| �If we�re old enough to understand, are we old enough to take action? Sex, for example, are we too young to accept the consequences, therefore we cannot? Can we isolate sex to love, strictly? Sex is ultimately, pleasure. If pleasure is reserved for love, is that all love is about? If that�s the case, love is very shallow. We�d like to intensify everything. Everything must have meaning, depth, and dimension. Why can�t well enough be left alone without tearing it apart? Although, love and emotions grow from analysis. We couldn�t love, if we didn�t think to do so. Sex is reserved for those who analyze.� �The influence of youth upon your adult self. By the time you turn forty, your youth accounts for a small portion of your life. It�s an insignificant minority, yet a highly influential one. Personality is about three parts youth and one part adult experience. If you think about it, the first time you do or try something, is usually the most memorable. So the first time you made friends, got embarrassed, won an award, all of these such things will bring you back to your youth; As youth is the breeding ground for beginnings. Since experience makes your personality, and personality comes from your experience, which is dominated by your youth. Hence, personality is born from your youth. If that�s true, then I guess people saying that to some extent we always remain children is right. We�re inexorably the same person. �Children don�t live, they just exist�. We have so much trouble accepting that�s how desire to be. As adults, we fight the urge to be untroubled every now and again. We restrain ourselves to our schedules. Not because we want to, but because we are forced to. If doing this is a mistake then why do we keep repeating it? Because we�re taught to repeat, as your parents were trained to replicate the belief to you. After awhile of resisting your youthful urge, because we�re told to do so, it would be concluded we forget how to be young, but personality comes from your youth. Therefore, no matter how hard you battle it, you will always remain a child, as your experience tells you so.� �Maybe Rufus had it all right. �I don�t want somebody to love me, just give me sex whenever I want it�, that sounds like a good plan. Love is for romantics. I was a hopeless romantic once. The ideal was more appealing than a feasible plan. Romance is, for the most part dead. Or at least it�s on the ground twitching, with a sneaker shadowing its fate. Find me someone whose not at least moderately afraid of love and I�ll admit defeat.� �A sex-based society could thrive, if society started distributing condoms and birth control, like prayers to sinners in a confessional. That is until sex becomes something we take for granted. Sex as habitual as brushing your teeth, it does nothing for you. Or you�ll think it doesn�t, but you�ll still need it.� �Under your own steam in those hallways clogged with busy persons, I could sense the presence. It�s his familiar scent of warm sleep. That comforting aroma you sense upon waking on warm summer mornings. It lasts for but seconds, dare you doubt its existence? As familiar as I could taste his presence, I could feel channeling through those hopeless bodies that same silent distress. It penetrates me, undulating, like his sleepy dreams that frolic through his subconscious like a giant question mark. They stealth fully dominate the busy hallways. Even the seemingly insensate clocks dull faces soar downward in sympathy. Even cyclic they can sense what he was determined never to let go of. Those impersonal people are to blame (without pointing fingers). The embodiment of everything he is not, yet everything his seclusion inspired to be. But sleep was more familiar.� |
| These are some random thoughts from my journal I liked. |
| CRAZY? I was crazy once. . . |