We're verified by the accomplishments of our families and fathers. Always in such shallow transit, continually searching for our own words to validate ourselves. A gentle boasting hurts no one but bodies build up in the empty floors of our deepest wells.

Mostly ourselves. It's too late. It's too late. It's too late.

You've been reinvented. You are the new beginning. A fresh and clean slate from which to build anew. This poorly laid foundation has crumbled and come crashing. Please believe me, why would I ever lie to you? We have such history together, it wouldn't make any kinds of sense for me to lie.

My finite timeline

I just realized that it is almost mid-April, which means it's almost mid-year, which means it's almost halfway through 2007. The paper days seem to be falling off the calendar like one of those cartoon montage sequences used to transition between years. It's scary the way it happens and I'm having mixed feelings about it.

This whole concept of time makes me feel really small. Like I'm just the tiniest cell coursing through the veins of this huge moving body of humanity. I feel insignificantly out of control and because I'm flying so quickly, I feel the definite end approaching. I hate the resounding cliche of "life is short" but it really, truly is.

It's short, and it's fast.

Life, in all it's myriad events is shorter than we'll ever know. I just hope that at the end of it, I can say truthfully that I have few regrets.

List of wants

I want to have a realization. ANY realization about anything. I'll take one brief moment of clarity, just a quick peek at daylight through the heavy-curtained clouds.

I want to know someone, and I want to be known. I suppose I want to know myself.

A dry spell

I'm not sure if it's the dreariness of the weather or my current season of life, but I find myself detrimentally introspective today. Compound this with the total of 3 hours of tooth-sore sleep and understandably, I'm in a weird mood. I'm starting to hate the uncertainty of my age bracket. I feel like I'm seeing everything through a tinted telescope, where the image through the lens is so much sadder and further away than it appears.

I feel like my ship is running aground, crashing into the harbor still sea-bound and water-tight, not yet ready to be docked. An uncomfortable place for any ship.

I hate admitting weakness; I'm noticing that I only admit the faults that I'm either: A. Comfortable with or, B. Pretending to have in vain attempts at humility. I know I come across as a pretentious ass some of the time and for that I'm truly sorry and very embarrassed. Truth is: I'm an empty vessel. The face of uncertainty blanketed in a cold and condescending stare. I don't mean to stare, honest.

Right now I hear the faint Beethoven symphony of the ice cream carrying van orbiting the neighborhood outside my office. The wind blows every few minutes and reminds my warm skin that lethargy has no place in the work place. No place at all. My tooth hurts and my lack of dental insurance provides no small obstacle in the way of rapid repair, so the realization that only time or money (or both) is going to make my tooth feel better is also a little depressing. I am shirking my test-taking responsibilities for blogging, which is probably not on my list of "things that make you feel better". I feel like writing is more of a responsibility than the healing catharsis I wish it were. I fancy myself talented, but the reality is that I'm painfully mediocre.