So close to the finish line and I don’t even care anymore. Oh well, at least I’ll be close to the top of the standings.

So every other day or so I’ll remind myself that I’m a terrible person, a bad Buddhist, and a lazy piece of shit. It’s kinda like morning wood, or having it rain on your day off- clockwork. NO big deal. Most of the time I’ll have a mini argument with myself in my head; speaking of which- I always wondered what my face looked like during these spats. The thing I dwell on the most is the wanting. I always want more, not really a greed thing, but maybe the same. For some reason I feel like I am deserving, and that I must take so the world is balanced and some shit like that. I know that’s not how it works though, even needs can be restricted and slimmed down. Make any and every excuse you want, it wont change the way things really work out there. Blame and shame aren’t real, but diversions. It’s not always as easy as just growing up, and taking responsibility. Sometime it’s just about going without and dealing with it- without having to tell the world, or your mom or whatever. About now is where I realize I’m always going to be a student and it’s ok to make mistakes or be less then top of the class. Hard as it may be, nothings going to change except for change. Now, I can finally take a piss and brush  my teeth.

So looking at how long it has been, not to mention the demeanor of my last post, it’s been a weird season. That’s ok with me. Can’t really say much has changed- I keep pushing and pushing for what often feels like nothing. MAybe I’m juts bit too lazy, or a bit to hard on myself. Oh well….there is always 2008…er well…fuck.

What’s the fucking point. Not to get all teenage angst and all, but I really just feel like not doing anything for a while. Not being a painter, not struggling, not pushing for something that’s not there. So here goes….a big tuesday morning “fuck it”.

Doubt has infected me. There is no direct treatment, no known cure. Key elements are missing from my body and mind, a chemical unbalance. The disease has spread throughout my world, contaminating more and more of my everyday life. I have begun to doubt the very truth of myself- I feel like a lie. I have no problem with being a liar, but being a lie s a bit different. What do I really see?

The last year of my life as I know it has started. If all goes as planned this coming May I will be finished with school, walking away with my masters degree in fine art. What a glorious title, yet the rest of my life will remain unchanged; I will still be broke ( even more so then now), probably have the same job, and engage in the same tedious activities. However, I will have the athority to request anyone I communicate with to address me as master. Seven years of school, thousands of dollars, long sleepless nights….a document with proof of my prestige, my title…. I think it’s worth it. So in nine months all that know me be prepared, prepare to call me master.

Lately I have been trying to figure out what it is I exactly do. I say I’m a painter, yet I haven’t painted for months. I say I hang out at coffee houses, but I really only come and go; not really hanging out if you get your shit then take off when you’re done. I have nothing really. I go to work, eat, sleep, lounge around. I do nothing. I determined that I am really more of the type of person who needs to be found. I used to spent every last moment searching for the parties, seeing a million friends, and always having someone or something to do. Now I sit and wait for them to find me, and when they do I try to dissapear. I am no wingman. I am no center of anyones party. I am not the scene. It’s not that I am not full of flavor, I’m just devoid of life. Maybe it’s time to get back out in the world and remind myself of who I could be.

Really, it is no problem at all to hash out your plans in the middle of my store. In fact, why don’t you speak as loud as possible so that everyone around you knows how cool you are and all the “kick ass” restaurants you’ve been to. Take forty-five minutes if you need, hell take an hour if you want. Being in the way always comes second to being hip. There is nothing like working a friday night and being grumpy; and on that rant, I say goodnight.

Every once in a while I become overwhelmed with a strange little choke from the shadows, a cloud of expectation smothers me with its unanswered quests and adventures. Instantlly I am ready to escape the evil clutches of depression, my mind fills with excuses and strategy. No matter which way around it I go, I always end up with the same remedy- pick up and move away. Pack my shit, drive until I run out of mountain dew and gas and shack up; never to tell a soul when, where, and why. New begginings, new names, new stories. I can rewrite my total origin story. I can’t help it, this idea excites me down to the bone. I’ve never done this, or have I? Maybe the last time I hauled off I forgot to tell myself who I am and where I’ve been. Fuck, now I can’t even trust myself…

I’m not really sure if it safe to say that everyone dreams while they sleep. I would like to think that everyone does, but maybe some just can’t remember their dreams. It seems that I have never had a hard time recalling every detail of my dreams, which lately has been a burden. I have been having dream after dream where I have ended up crying, only to wake up and check my eyes to see if I was crying in my sleep( which most of the time I have been). In the dreams I am practically howling, hopefully in real life it’s a quit whimper, for my neighbors sake. Not that I am embarassed or anything, it just seems rather odd that this keeps happening. I’m guessing that these dreams have become my way of mourning, while in my time awake I simply wait for nothing. Any dream experts have anything to say?