"The road goes on forever and the party never ends"

First, a warning. It's 3:18A and I've been listening to Bright Eyes all night.


I told myself I wasn't going to write tonight. I came home from practice, accidentally fell asleep for 30 minutes and was late to rehearsal. I stayed and watched other DRC bits and then talked to Tim for awhile. I'm sure it was with good purpose that I did all this, but I wanted to go to bed at 7... so I am not sure why I stayed up. It's 3A now. I haven't even started my play for lighting design, but Bright Eyes will get you to a point that you can't help but write something. I am listening to this called I Must Belong Somewhere and it makes me want to fall in love and run away and try something new all at one time. It's this feeling of all the rights in the world. I begin to believe I belong somewhere else, but I try to let my if-you-need-to-be-somewhere-you'll-get-there belief take care of this worry. I just know there is something and I do not want to wait. I have no reason to wait. I could die tomorrow. It's unlikely, but possible all the same.

I have a tired headache and an aching for the truth.

I've been lied to and loved.

I want to be new, but do not know how to shake the old. Is it even possible to leave that much behind? I'd change my name and leave all my selves behind, but like the child who was afraid the thief would steal it all, I hid bits here and there so you could never take ALL of it too quickly. It'd take searching and trying and a deep determination. And if your determination is that high than you can have my 6 ones. Although I was going to buy Christmas bells for my family with them. They were 50 cents at Pier 1. Didn't you know that? I'll write a messy poem on an index card and tape a penny on. Perhaps they could all read the poem together. Wouldn't that be lovely?

I was a mighty creative child.




Someday I will have a giant white wall that no one will care about. And I will paint it and pencil on it and try again and again to make something of worth. No one will tear it down, but it will change like me. And I will breathe into it and the paints will be scattered on the floor.
That's okay.
Everything must belong somewhere.




If your life was a movie, would you watch it?
(Someone else would edit out the unnecessary day-to-day procedures that did not add to the film)
Would you recommend it to your friends?