Fortune Cookie

So, to keep with Irish tradition, I got Chinese food on St. Patrick's Day (wait a minute....). The best part of ordering Chinese food is always the fortune cookie (maybe not the cookie itself-I tend to think it tastes like Church communion). I always wait until I finish eating my Chow Lo Mein, and save my future for last, and today was no exception. I cracked the shell, and pulled out the treasure waiting for me inside:

"Beautiful things await you."

Wait. What? (Read it again.)

As it turns out, this little nugget of inspiration couldn't be more dead-on. I just can't help but wonder what the definition of "beautiful" is in this context. Is it beautiful in my eyes, or someone elses? Or, is it some kind of supernatural phenomena that is going to transform my life into one of purpose and service? Maybe I'm reading waaayyy to into this...maybe it just simply means I'm going to buy a new outfit, or some sexy shoes.

Regardless of the intended meaning, I'm going to live the shit out of this fortune cookie because ya know what? Beautiful things DO await me.

That's what Friends are for...

I had that dream again last night...you know, the one where I'm me, and you're you, but everything else is completely different. We were at my house, but it didn't look like my house. And your girlfriend was there, only it wasn't really her. You told me a secret, a seven-word sentence that you had been hiding in your heart for the past ten years.

Your secret changed me; I could instantly see it in my face, and feel it deep within my soul. It was like being trapped in a dungeon for thousands of years, only to discover that the key was in your pocket the whole time. It was like being deaf your entire life, and then, in your final moments, being able to hear an angel whisper.

I have played the moment over and over in my head like a Michael Jackson record. I fast forward through the boring stuff, and pause it for the good part. It's what I always wanted to hear, and the way it always should have turned out.

"Why are you acting so wierd?"
"Do you want to know? Do you really want to know?"
"Yes. Tell me. I'm dying to know why you've turned into such a jerk!"
"Because I'm still in love with you!"

A tear escaped from your eye, and a gasp was released from my breath...

"But...but for how long, or have you never stoppe..."

My alarm clock jolts me back into reality.
I guess there are some questions I'll never know the answer to, some dreams that will only ever take life in my heart...

Fame

In some capacity, I believe we've all desired to acheieve some sort of fame. Who hasn't dreamed of becomming a musician or an actor, an artist or a dancer, or even become famous by being the absolute complete opposite? I believe our culture and society breeds us this way- to constantly be in search of the next crazy invention like Velcro or a mindlessly brilliant story line like The Hangover. The real bitch of it? We can't achieve it by ourselves. No matter how fantastic we all are inside our own heads, we technically are worthless unless someone else realizes it.

So, we all go around trying to prove ourselves. I can draw better than anyone else! I can sculpture the hell out of this piece of clay! I am the best harmonica player this side of the Mason-Dixie! Do we practice to be great? Of course. Do we practice to be great for our own personal satisfaction? Not until we have acheived the fame we've dreamt of our whole lives.

The unfortunate part is that very few people actually live the way they want. There are all these rules and guidelines that we are supposed to follow: Go to college, earn a job, make money, raise a family, complain about your job every day until retirement, retire, finally get to do things you never had time for before. Do it in order- you must do it in order. Do you know what I say about that? Fuck order.

I want to live my life so ass-backwards that people have to stand on their heads just to see things from my perspective. I've never been one for conforming to rules; I feel like they were only created to seperate the spineless from the rebels. I've never been one to do what is socially acceptable or expected of me. Life's no fun that way.

So, do I want to be famous? Probably not in the same way as most people. I don't want a fancy house with a view of Hollywood Hills. I don't want a chauffeur or a chef or even a clothing line that kids in sweatshops slave over 20 hours a day.

I want to write a book.
I want to own a bookstore.
And, I want to constantly live my life red-lined.

And if that makes me famous, then hell yeah; sign me up.

I am...

I stand with my feet on the ground, but my head in the sky. My mind is constantly turning, trying to think of ways to become better, faster, stronger. I have fantastic ideas to change simplistic things, and have developed complicated paths to bulldoze fundamental roads. I'm a dreamer.
There are things in my life that I have always loved: sunsets, fireplaces, the color black, dreaming, and I must not forget about books. Oh, how I love books. Their ability to transport you to any place and time, to arouse your inner gladiator, to whimsically challenge your every thought...
I don't know how to follow rules; I never have. I do things my way, or no way at all. I'd love to stick it to The Man, to tear down the platforms that politicians and robots stand upon to preach their squabbles and squeaks. I am my own person; I live inside my head with me, myself and I. I am unconventional.
I don't believe in chance or coincidence. I think those are common words to describe a fantastical twist of absolute fate. I go to sleep each night knowing that I have been afforded my life because the universe conspired to give it to me. The stars and galaxies got together and decided that right now, in this very moment, I will exist. I'm blessed and thankful, and a true representation of an abundent universe.
For all these reasons and more, I simply am. I breathe and move, write and read, teach and learn my own self. The only way out is through, the only way up is down, and the only way to live is on a whim...

Ain't that a bitch...

Just me and the open road...

When I'm on the back of my bike, nothing else matters. My problems, worries, incompetencies...they just simply do not exist. My autonomy is my only companion, and my heart is my only instinct. There are no distractions or detours, not when you don't have a planned route. The pavement passes under my feet and retreats behind me, into where I've just come from, to where I'll never return. Time has no meaning when no one's paying attention. I'm out for the ride, for the rush, for the greatest pleasure I have ever known- life.