What to make of what we make?
I don't have much of an update to make. i finished my film analysis for my film class this morning. i keep checking on it but i know no matter how many changes i make i'll never be satisfied so i just decided to leave it alone. let the TAs give the grade i guess.
Right now, i am reading "Hey Nostradamus!" it is a really interesting book. i suggest looking for it at your local book store... its that big, boring looking place next to the starbucks you all frequent so much. lol.
For some people, getting older can be complex. dealing with change after you graduate is challenging. its hard for people to realize they may not meet again until reunion if at all. it's difficult to deal with distance. the way i see it, you will keep your world as close as you want it to be... you will contact who you really want to contact. does that make it right? no. i wish we could all keep in touch with everyone we know, imagien the peace we could make... imagine the connection and the closeness provided. but it is not so. the not so is what i touched on somewhat in my latest. give it a read. later:
Shameful
There is but the techno and the retro
Greenpeace from the get go
With just a splash of Bordeaux
To keep the even keel and heaven afloat
Above the vast mast
Of a sailing ship’s last cast
There is the voyage necessary
Not unlike life on the contrary
We unpack when we are at a distance
Providing what little resistance
To goals so easily received
To achievement that wasn’t achieved.
What becomes of what we become?
When we are undone
From ourselves we continually outrun
Eventually to just succumb
To become another father’s son
Accepting eventualities one by one
Feels like a storm again
Wishing we could break the chain
Why must each of our personalities
Be exactly the same
Just like every drop of rain
Different but exactly the same.
Friends fade and we hardly remember
What happened in September
After we become a member
And teach each other to misremember
Every detail every sign
Everything that was always mine
Certain things can only grow on a vine
All the rest are left behind the chalk line
Remembering a face without a name
A picture without a picture frame
Why have we lit such an ill flame?
Growing old can be such a con game.
Don’t you think?
Right now, i am reading "Hey Nostradamus!" it is a really interesting book. i suggest looking for it at your local book store... its that big, boring looking place next to the starbucks you all frequent so much. lol.
For some people, getting older can be complex. dealing with change after you graduate is challenging. its hard for people to realize they may not meet again until reunion if at all. it's difficult to deal with distance. the way i see it, you will keep your world as close as you want it to be... you will contact who you really want to contact. does that make it right? no. i wish we could all keep in touch with everyone we know, imagien the peace we could make... imagine the connection and the closeness provided. but it is not so. the not so is what i touched on somewhat in my latest. give it a read. later:
Shameful
There is but the techno and the retro
Greenpeace from the get go
With just a splash of Bordeaux
To keep the even keel and heaven afloat
Above the vast mast
Of a sailing ship’s last cast
There is the voyage necessary
Not unlike life on the contrary
We unpack when we are at a distance
Providing what little resistance
To goals so easily received
To achievement that wasn’t achieved.
What becomes of what we become?
When we are undone
From ourselves we continually outrun
Eventually to just succumb
To become another father’s son
Accepting eventualities one by one
Feels like a storm again
Wishing we could break the chain
Why must each of our personalities
Be exactly the same
Just like every drop of rain
Different but exactly the same.
Friends fade and we hardly remember
What happened in September
After we become a member
And teach each other to misremember
Every detail every sign
Everything that was always mine
Certain things can only grow on a vine
All the rest are left behind the chalk line
Remembering a face without a name
A picture without a picture frame
Why have we lit such an ill flame?
Growing old can be such a con game.
Don’t you think?