"Honestly, I can say that I never have made a big mistake in my life."

What a way to go. Not that I am into these dreadful pageants, but Miss Philippines??? You've never had a regret. You've never committed to an act and considered it a mistake. Well I'm sure that's not the case anymore considering that was her self induced wrist slit in the competition.
It just brings me to other thoughts, instead of talking about a pageant for 300 words or less, wondering what if I took the blue pill, or was it the red pill? Either way my life is on a different course because I was given the option to choose it's destiny. (A destiny unforeseen) I have chosen red pill, blue pill, and multicolored vitamin and it has brought me here. A here which encompasses thoughts of "there" and where, but who cares? If we wallow in our mistakes, or our fruitless decisions, has a positive outcome ever resulted?

*Damn country was taken to hellish numbers and horrible policies and yet whining about Bush didn't make him go away, wondering about wasted vote and what I could have done to help change, won't make the change...so take some proactive steps. (but what happened?? He was voted back into office oops)*

I've got some good friends, not many on the dark end of the tube. They know life is full of trials, mistrials, and tribulations, yet they have a positive bearing. They right their wrongs and move to a self loving beat. I'll be like that one day, when I grow up.

What do I have to give

I'm finding out that you don't learn about your true self until you start giving that away to someone else. Being the way that I was, I found that I kept many things to myself, more than your usual secrets and personal belongings. So now that I've transitioned to a position where "giving" is the quality of the relationship I feel almost immature in this aspect.

{Yes stingy by nature may have something to do with it}

Baltimore the City that...wait what's the slogan?

It's so good to writing again.

Initially I presumed my rambling was going to be centered around my mindless destruction of my fair city (ode to Baltimore.) Yet her "attitude" has been so cavalier I hardly can connect this to my childhood disliking. Baltimore has charmed me. She has stroked her soft hand on my shoulder and slid gently down to my elbow. Not turned on yet, but I'm intrigued. From first sight she was not all that attractive, in fact it's one of those if I were drunk you would look better to me situations, but just like an unattractive woman with a nice personality she too has fallen victim to my love. One moment I'm repulsed and the moment next I'm strolling her long legs down to her many appealing features.

Art is sexy. Dancers, singers, poets, artists, ...art is sexy.

Baltimore is drenched with art culture and I find her sexiness surrounding me. This small city, where her proclaimed skyscrapers equal the same size at New York City's parking garages, has a dense art beauty and I for one have become won-over by her sexiness.

Thanks for the warning

Good luck.

That's all I heard in a silent room, full of staring furniture wishing me goodbye with their decaying smiles. It''s unfortunate that as I enter this new realm of living, living sanely that is, there was no surgeon generals warning, no prescribed method, no wiki answers. Just good luck. As if luck had anything to do cohabitation, premarital bonding or just plain grown up stuff. The quandary of the circumstance benefits those who not really master this ordeal, but find a way to tolerate the unforeseen.

Rest assure, if there was some "guide" to getting to be with your future spouse it wouldn't be very good. Many would find it's traditional measures to be quite mindless considering how everyone's desires are different. I just find it quite amazing how living closer can somehow push people further away. Instead of phone conversations there are text, instead of dinners together there are dinners to go, sex...uh no porn. The acts seem to dwindle down to rooming with a friend versus living with a lover.

They say money doesn't bring you happiness but after how broke we've been I believe our morale is a bit low. It's time for a pep rally (vacation) or some sort of jump start (a night on the town.) Reluctantly I've turned to a bottle more so for salvation then sweet recreational drinking, feel as if I'm just a drew hundred sips before becoming "that guy" and diminishing my purpose of loving another person.

It's just so silent that the comfortableness has dissolved. Silence, which once was enjoyable, was reading time, writing time, thinking time, but now I think too much. Think about what she's thinking or if she's upset, or what did I do to tick her off. Shouldn't there be a "honeymoon" stage first? One with fucking up walls and headboards, laughter and silly spoofs that derrange our perception of one another just for a brief moment. I hear the rain fall so much I wonder if the clouds have more to say to me than anyone else. I used to talk to God, now I'm wondering he's taking this silence to talk back.

The return

Point-set-match

So I have returned, skipping down this cobblestone road of life, glad that I have been given a moment to write, even if it is the condescending sour notes you only expect to see in small-time carnival clowns. The air doesn't smell much sweeter, the sun does seem to be a bit hotter and the rain has yet to sing a melody this summer. Therefore, I'm glad to see her derriere and welcome the cool season back... and in that comes the school year. Why not bring back the thing I have been so reluctant to do. Write.

What kept me away? Maybe, I feared that I may actually enjoy and seemingly create somewhat of an occupation out of this hobby of mine. Maybe I really was "busy" like I said.

All the talk is about marriage, all the action is about children and life as a bachelor seems to look delicious. (Until tasted) Yet, no one actually has a prescription. Can't we satisfy our curiosity by just saying "to each is own?" Vividly living chasing other peoples' dreams searching for a purpose when the purpose has nothing to do with searching for anything. I long to see a day when a complaint is never uttered by me or in my presence. Only then will I believe in the mind's capacity to indulge itself on its surroundings.

Five Minutes

As I watch hefty dance disproportionately on my television

I take a gander into my deep thoughts and internally I sit and cry for those who lost their way at age, whatever teen number it could be.

Not that sitting around on a Friday night drinking happy juice is the cure all,

I have no halo, in fact my horns have halos around them, so I scowl in the sunlight and cringe in the dark.

I just wish that everyone could smile like my dog does, then again she looks depressed the rest of the time no one walks through the door.

Swirling my liquor, creating an enthusiastic tornado funnel, which serves as a vacuum for my conscious.

Then I think…

How vapid I have been by allowing materials to tattoo my life when I could merely disperse the connection within the click of a button

How satisfying my dissatisfaction has been by new forms of technology when I ultimately feel the terminator will occur and we’ll look at James Cameron like some sort of prodigy.

Then again, he did write avatar and maybe blue jungle cats do exists but his imagination may be a bit too vast for my own gunslinger demeanor.

Well, drink, live, lust, love and smoke things that make you happy in between the boring moments in life. And if all else fails, go to sleep because a wasted dream is like blue balls.