Following Your Dreams

People will often tell you to follow your dreams. This is terrible advice. You will never achieve your dreams. Setting your mind on something is not going to make it happen. You can do anything if you set your mind to it? This is one of the biggest lies since, "No, I won't cum in your mouth”, "I have that other kind of AIDS", or "I was just standing here stroking my dick, minding my own business but your sister wouldn't stop backing into it".

If you try to follow your fantasies you're going to waste a lot of time. I suggest that instead you do something every day that makes you happy, or at least distracts you from your miserable existence. Find a hobby. Mine is crushing the dreams of others. Have a great day!

"I Am"

...another excerpt of my writing from a while back. This was about my best friend Gabe. He was shot and killed a few years after we graduated high school, reminding us all that you can never be too young. His birthday is on May 9th and I miss him terribly...

The youthful owner of a single pair of pale brown eyes stared out-of-focus through the car window at a familiar approaching outline.

Two sweaty, reddened, inexperienced palms cupped the stock of a tarnished metal monster. The grip of the lever shook unsteady and wavering. Only one nail-bitten finger moved smooth, deftly caressing the deathly predecessor while the finality of the simple innocent sound of a ‘click’ broke the calm of the still night; a night that only seconds ago was free of anything impending that you see in a horror movie.

No ominous music bellowed to a crescendo to warn you. The comforting scent of buttered popcorn and a cool refreshing oversized bucket of Coca-Cola clearly was absent from this picture. No nervous giggles or loud offerings of opinion from a boisterous theater-going crowd shattered the peaceful night, but the sense of tranquil terror remained.

Piercing and with total disregard, a projectile was forcefully expelled from the velvety steel canal. It cut sharply through the fleshy line where the owner of the handsome brown eyes had taken so much pride in perfecting his military buzz cut; precisely where the dark brown hairline met the side of his fair, unblemished, furrowed brow. The metal slug perforated a small, clean cylindrical opening and began its short one-way journey; ricocheting in a zigzag formation, scrambling his thoughts and words faster then he could blink; mixing mental matter quicker than he could think, before angry tears could scatter down his cheeks, and much faster than those passive pale brown eyes could shake that incredulous questioning stare out of them.

I opened my mouth to speak or scream in that instant eternity, but my reaction turned out to be neither choice. Instead, my tongue filled my mouth and slammed against the backside of my clenched teeth with anticipatory guttural grunts and I suddenly became aware of my slightly parted lips that were cracked with dryness from my quickened shallow breaths.

I heard the spent metal casing fall and tinkle delicately onto the car’s side view mirror like a single fat raindrop on a tin roof. His medium-sized frame shook with one final violent heave, then leaned and wavered unevenly, coming to a final slump against the door panel. The seatbelt strained tight against his deflated chest and kept this passenger safely in place even as the all-together unfamiliar powdery scent of hot metallic smoke filled the front compartment.

Motionless, I remained in the driver’s seat clenching the stationary steering wheel of the four-wheeled tomb. A narrow, warm crimson river immediately flowed down his temple, eyebrow, cheek, neck, shoulder and chest, coming to form a puddle in the L-shaped crook of his arm at the point where his forearm and thick bicep met while those vacant pale brown eyes that had once held future and promise, now gazed in no particular direction at all.

What was only a moment ago two sets of lungs exhaling warmness into the crisp night air slowly and excruciatingly faded until only one remained.

"Declaration of Independence Essay"

I wrote the following essay a few years back, as an effort to win cash moolah from a contest sponsored by a mattress company for students who were too damn old to be living at home. I didn't win, but I thought it was decent, and sadly, accurate.


"Declaration of Independence"

I love school and am considered a career student; not by choice but because of my indecisive mind and free thinking spirit, I could never decide on a major or a main educational path to take.

I need to move out of my parents house for several reasons, among them are: my baby pictures are slowly being replaced by pictures of the grand-children. Mom and I are starting to share the same hair coloring to hide our grays. Dad is beginning to mix up his AARP mail with mine. I still fight with my nieces over my old Barbie dolls and toys. The ‘sit down talk’ my Dad used to have with my dates has changed from, “What are your intentions with my daughter?” to, “So how many kids/warrants/baby mommas do you have?”

Considering that I will be FINALLY graduate college with my Bachelor’s degree in June this year, I think that I am ready and willing to make the leap into adult independence. I’ve actually run out of excuses to stay at home. I have a stable job and a decent social life, but being comfortable for so long in the same house that I was born and raised in for all of my life can get, well, too comfortable.

When I finally am able to move out, I think there will be major adjustments to get used to, but I will no longer have to call home if I’m going to be late or have my Mom fold creases into my thongs with the clean laundry and comment, “Doesn’t that hurt when you wear it?”

The freedom to walk around your own private abode naked, but with socks on (Mom says, so you won’t catch cold), should be the right of every American citizen.