Dreams you have set

The dreams you have set,
far, far away…
The dreams you have set…
They could all come true today.

The dreams you have set,
They’re simply goals you have set, and these goals,
can be scored.
But like all goals, there is a goalie
and a defense.
And it is their job to make your desires harder to obtain.

This is a wall that you must break through.
And it is a mountain you must climb.
All the courage in the world is required to complete this task,
but all the rewards you could ever want,
lie just beyond your reach in the palms of your hands.

Clear your head,
Cast aside the depression, anger, angst, and guild.
It’s there behind all the fears, doubts, and setbacks.
It’s behind that which you cannot see.
It is behind you.

It is behind you 100%,
There is nothing you can do about them now,
But you can choose how you respond.
Respond by letting them all drive you to not sit idly by and let your dreams slip away?

No, these are the dreams you have set.
And they are the dreams that you can reach.

They are the dreams that require you to wake up,
In order to live them.


Moment, memories

One day you look back
And you see yourself much younger

One day you look back and remember
Riding a bicycle, throwing a ball, catching a frizbee.
Next moment you look back,
Tears, sadness, and loss.
Next moment back,
First year of college>
And as it all comes back,
So too the reality.
That cold and harsh


Life is good

That look in people’s eyes.
The look that says “empty”,
and “lonely”.

That look in people’s eyes
Is not a look at all–It is simply a reflection.

reflection, projection, attention, and retention.
reflection projection laugh and retention

When you see that look,
That look in people’s eyes,
Think again.
Smile for no reason and bid them “Good day”.

Good day? who’s to say
There could be another Katrina happenin’ today.
But you never know what to say,
And who’s to say it won’t.

Beautiful and sad

It’s that feeling you get
As an ambulance with it’s lights on passes you.

It’s that feeling you get
When you see the flag half-mast.

It’s that feeling you get
When you turn on the news at 6.

It’s that feeling,
Where for a brief moment,
You experience a myriad of emotions.
It’s that fear, that hope, and that memory,
And they all hit you at the same moment.

And that moment passes;
It passes as fast as the ambulance,
The flutter of the wind,
And the change of a channel.

It’s that single moment,
That is so gloriously sad and the passing of something beautiful.


I enjoy writing. I find the whole process to be therapeutic. However, I feel that I do not write enough. The truth is that I do not write much at all, and sadly, I’ve noticed that while I often fell like sitting down and writing, I never do. And whenever the inspiration strikes, and I have an idea for something—anything really—it always seems to happen when I am exhausted and feel like doing nothing else but sleeping.

Right now, for example, I feel like writing. I am tired.

Late night
Dark room
Loud neighbors
No sleep

Toss and turn
As soon as I reposition myself, I feel uncomfortable
I glance at my clock, it reads close to 4 AM
I contemplate asking my neighbors to keep it down,
But I throw that idea out.

What could it be?
Why can’t I sleep?
Is it the heat? The sound? The stress?
What could it be?

I decide to take a walk.
The destination does not matter,
The beginning does not matter,
The trip does not matter,
The clarity of mind that comes, now that is what matters.

I put on my slippers,
Grab my wallet and phone,
I groggily walk towards my door,
The sound of a television from down the hall now even more clear

I step out into the hallway,
Surprised, I see that the hallway is adorned with confetti.
I venture a few steps further and I see a trashcan knocked over,
The contents of which have spilled out onto the floor.

I step over the trash, and navigate through the confetti,
I open the heavy suite door and walk out into the common area,
Again, surprised at what I see.
Chairs, knocked over. Lamps, on the floor.

I shake my head and continue down the stairs,
I can feel the draft from the front door now,
The cold air trying to breach the bulwark of this simple dorm.
I purchase a water from the machine, and step outside.

There is something magical about the air at 4 in the morning.
It is fresh, clean, and feels as if each breath is new.
It is as if the air that you are breathing has never touched another soul.
It is almost as if the air is telling you, “Forget it, just breath.”

Well, that’s what I did, that night.
I took a break from worrying,
I took a break from caring,
I took a break from my life,
I walked around at 4 in the morning
Wearing only pajamas and slippers
And it was the most calming experience of my life.


In the words of Chaplan, we think to much and feel to little. See, there is a whole amazing, fabulous world out there. And there are so many amazing and truly unique people out there. There’s been much ado about the meaning to life, and the meaning to lots of things, but screw that. Life has a meaning because we give it a meaning. A joke is funny because we give it a laugh. A cake is tasty because we take a bite. This world is meant to be seen, heard, touched, smelled, and tasted.

Take a drive down to the shore. Walk on the beach at night. Stop, stare up at the moon and the stars. Listen to the sea breeze, smell the sea air, hear the waves crashing upon the shore. Think, that for this moment, nothing really matters. The world will keep spinning, people will continue doing what it is that they have always done, and none of this can be reasonably changed. What can be changed, is our perspective.

Drop the bias, drop the negativity, drop prior conceptions of certain ideals, hear everything as if for the first time. Smile, be happy, be spontaneous, live for the moment because the moment lives for you.


This is the kind of shit that I like to write when I feel tired. I do not think it important, and I do not think it worth sharing, but what I do think is that it helps me work out what’s going on in my head. The stream of consciousness is like a gurgling brook, sometimes outside forces interfere and make this brook diverge from it’s normal pathway. Sometimes heavy rain falls and make this brook overflow and rush like an avalanche rolling down a mountainside. Sometimes the cold air cuts and chills the brook until it has lost some of it’s will to move.

Sometimes, others come and see the brook, and sometimes, these others are thirsty and they drink up the brook.