end serenading

Album - Fireworks - All I Have To Offer Is My Own Confusion

I've been having the strangest dreams. Ones that shake me to the core. Some that just flat out don't make any sense. Most, I know, are my subconscious, pushing out my fears, concerns and real feelings on certain situations and areas of my life that I am utterly unhappy with.

Laziness and backward tendencies are finally a thing of the past. At least for now, until another stutter step forces me back to what I know best: non-productivity.

I have been exercising way more, which I actually put off to make an entry here. Regardless, my rotund body will be on the Nordic Track within an half hour. I've been listening to more pop-punk than I would ever like to admit. It makes me feel younger again. It's funny how I always come back to music and feelings going hand in hand. It makes me smile to think of how little I had to worry about 10 years ago, but in the same respect, those little things seemed like the world at the time. Those little things that were so important, and now where are they? It is so intriguing how easily the human brain can adjust to any situation, given no other option.

A friend quoted The Shawshank Redemption to me today. "You either get busy living, or get busy dying." Truer words could never be spoken. Who would've thought Morgan Freeman and his moles would be the one to say it. Off subject, I'm convinced you could drive a Cadillac through one of that man's nostrils with ease. He probably keeps books in them. That's what makes him so wise. Enough about Mr. Freeman. Good quote. Backed hard.

I'm straggling off of what I want to discuss with myself. Does that make sense? Sure it does. I've had quite a bit on my mental plate this afternoon. Beginning the day drenched in sweat on 4 hours of sleep and hungover wasn't the raddest thing I've ever been privy to, but what can I do? Anyway, back to the things that are important to a 15 year old boy. When a girl cheats on you, or breaks up with you, and it hurts so bad at that time, you feel like that pain is never going to go away. You feel dead inside and the situation consumes your every thought. It alters your day to day life. How you get dressed, what CD you put in your walkman, and most importantly, for me at least, what you write your songs about. Look back at it now. How or why did you even give a shit? I wasted paper, creativity, and many smashed personal belongings...for what? A distant memory that just now in hindsight seems like a bad dream or an episode of one of the 500,000 mid 90's sitcoms about teen angst.

Consider me Zack Morris. Insert Kelly Kapowski here.

More Later,

xoxo
Danny