You better watch out, y’all. I’m hunting vampires today. My own, others’, it doesn’t matter. I am on a quest.

sometimes
when you feel too much
you don’t want to feel
at all

sometimes
when your heart runs deep
you can understand
too much

sometimes
when you sing a song
you can help your heart
to heal

sometimes
when you say not now
you will say goodbye
for good

sometimes
when a hope seems far
you must meet it
part way there

sometimes

…he’d be a man. Here’s the only proof I need:

Let’s just assume for this argument that god has a will and created mankind. Take a look at a man, then take a look at a fine woman and tell me she ain’t the greatest thing on Earth.

I rest my case.

Someone should tell those TV networks that those little video animation promos that they stick on the lower third of the screen to announce new episodes of shows are REALLY ANNOYING—especially the ones that come with sound effects.

So KNOCK IT OFF already!

…I’d have a bottle of glue.

We all make our own realities. What we perceive is real to us. And we believe what we perceive. So how can we find the truth if our senses are so subjective? Does that mean there is no truth? Or does that mean that we should live in a constant state of disbelief? Hope is a powerful thing and wishes can transform reality, but it is not enough to merely want a thing and thus it is willed into existence. Perhaps our creative energies should be directed towards building a better future rather than fulfilling our own fantasies. But without dreams how can we imagine ourselves a better tomorrow? There are those of us who dream for the better good. But too frequently those dreams are subverted by those closer to home: a friend, a family, a lover. The world is personal. The macrosocm to the entire planet.

What I lack in knowledge I make up for in wisdom.

Well, technically, I could die any day. But those of you who know me know that I am not prone to hyperbole. When I went downstairs in the morning after my mom had left, I smelled something burning or something that had burned. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but I just figured that she had burned some toast. It was not until later in the day that I found what had caused the smell: there was a burn mark across the wood trim next to the kitchen window. My mom had left a makeup-type magnifying mirror pointing skyward in the windowsill and it had focused the sun’s rays and burned a line across the wood as the sun moved. Had the mirror been in a slightly different place it could have ignited a drape, setting the whole thing off and burning down the house. That’s one for CSI!