march6

March 6, 2003
I can't help but doubt that I'll end up writing something new for this page on a daily basis.
Only time will tell. I think that, when it comes to "journaling," discipline si important yet a tad toxic to the quality of ones writing. I mean, if you look at writing your thoughts down as a job the writing is ultimately going to suffer, right? Sometimes you just have nothing to say.
Although I have been left speechless few times in my life, as many can atest.
Man it is hot here in the tropics. 90 degrees and it is still Winter.
I often wonder if I am an optimist. I like to think so, and in many ways I am, but when it comes to the grand scheme of things, such as the existence of God or the meaning of life I am purely practical.
What is the meaning?
42!42?
42 is the answer to the question. Do you even know what the right question is?
Perhaps "what is the meaning of life" is the wrong question, and that is really what matters in the end. Asking the right question.
Man its hot..
Bush is going on prime time this evening to make some huge announcement, evidently not to declare war. Wouldn't it be heroic of him to back out of this foolish war of his? Wouldn't his "ratings" go up? I wonder if he is capable of actually doing something smart. Doubtful.
What was I saying about optimism?
I had an interesting dream last night. While writing this I have been toying with the idea of discussing my dream. Part of me said, "no, don't do it Laura. You just made the point of saying how boring it was to hear other peoples dreams yesterday when you wrote.." But you know what? I am not going to write this with the thought in the back of my mind if people finding displeasure in what I write. The entire foundation of this would be undermined, and I won't stand for that.
The dream was interesting. Not because of the content, but because of the beautiful visuals, the sprawling landscapes. It was a sci-fi techno-punk type dream. You know the kind. I was somewhere in the U.S. on my way to Portland, (Oregon of course) and I had thousands of miles to walk. The catch was I had to place my feet on broken children's swings..the kind that generally have holes for the feet to allow the kids to sit and swing securely. Well, the swings I encountered were like semi-circles, they were only half there and my feet were in no way ensured to stay put. A second catch was the fact that the swings wers suspended thousands of feet above the ground, if you fell it would no doubt be to your death. Overpasses with speading, futuristic cars surrounded me..very chaotic and frightful. It took concentration and patience to step from swing to swing, and I was one of about six people who were embarking on this journey to Portland. What an adventure. Anywho, (that word is so...annoying) anywho there were ways to avoid the terrible swingset path..you could, at various stops, get off onto tall ladders and join a challenge of sorts. The challenge I joined was one where you sat down at a dinner table with many different people and each were served the same dish. Something on the dish was not what it was presented to be. On my dish there was horse meat, sod (yes actual grass with dirt and roots) and some vegetable which I cannot recall. I didn't eat the meat since, well, I don't eat meat but the other items seemed legit. I decided to declare that the horse meat was in fact an imposter. I was told I was wrong and then corrected by some girl sitting at the head of the table. "You see Laura, you have to look at it like a puzzle.." she went on to say that the horse meat was in fact the utter of an ox, in which case I should have advanced to the next challenge since I would have been right in saying the meat was the trick. Anyway dreams, like life, aren't always fair.
I suppose the dream was partly inspired by the book I was reading yesterday. Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The title would suggest a strong link to the dream but really the book was nothing like my dream..the only similarity between the two is the fact that I was trying to get somewhere and the surroundings were incredibly futuristic. Hope they don't eat ox utters in the future though.
I've been trying to get some pictures I've taken onto my site. Not having any luck. I love when people post pictures of themselves and anything they deem worthy of a photograph. I would like to show my troll collection, my dog, maybe even my family if it didn't creep them out. Of course I'd have to take some pictures of the town, too. I just can't seem to figure out how to load them onto the site. I'll figure it out though.
Typing on typewriters must have been very tedious and nerve-racking. Which seems like an oxymoron in a way since tedious things tend to be boring and sedating whereas nerve-racking things commonly bring on anxiety and delirium. Then again, it is like anything else where before peoples standards where raised they didn't mind. So before people experienced computers type-writers were perfectly fine in their eyes, I'm sure. As they should be.
Speaking of the advancedment of life and the future and everything, what are we going to do about this pesky little over-population problem? Anything? China seems to be "handling" it. Kill baby girls. Uh, thats a bit harsh. Bush seems to have an idea up his sleeve, too. Bomb Iraq! Kill thousands of innocence in Iraq and the U.S. military! Woohoo! Saddam, Kim Jong Il and others are also tackling the problem with a little technique called starvation. Starve your people and help the world function.
Oy. Life is so complex. 88 year olds are able to live for years longer because of heart transplants, the weak can survive in this society we've created..nature hasn't taken its course with that one..yet now we squawk about overpopulation. Stop saving the elderly? Stop saving anyone? Continue starving innocent children born to Ethiopian children? What?
People are so busy watching "Are You Hot?" and "Married By America" that they can't be bothered with these questions. Um, Bush will take care of it. Right.
Sorrry America, I'm bumming you out. Maybe I'll talk about something a bit more lighthearted, eh?
.........I don't want to grow up. I've come to that conclusion. Okay so maybe this isn't the most lighhearted subject, but its far from starvation and the destruction of the world as we know it.
Growing up means seeing the truths that your parents tried so hard to hide from you. Learning that people make mistakes, terrible ones, every day. Things aren't what they seem. Santa doesn't exist. Tooth Fairy? Uh uh, no way. Sorry kid, that was a LIE! Oh, by the way, that priest you know and love is going to sit in prison for awhile for, uh, getting a little too friendly with his Sunday school class.
Okay so I'm going overboard. I am really not this negative. Many wonderful things come with growing up and learing. But I can't help but, every once in awhile, reminisce about how drastic the change from childhood to whatever the hell I am right now. I remember when imagination dominated. The world was endless possibilities, a mystery. Now I feel, even at seventeen, like the doors are closing left and right. I used to want to be a writer. An artist. A marine biologist. Truth is I can't write, draw, or retain the knowledge of ANY organisms anatomy for the life of me. Umm...maybe I'll look into teaching like the ten million other people who don't know what to do.
I need to access that ambition I used to feel, that drive..it was always readily available, my mind was saturated with giddy little plans. Maybe I'm too practical. Practicaly is over-rated I think. I've ran out of room. G'day.
Back