hmmmm....hmmmmm.hmmmm

I love to write. I love to make a bang and follow it up with a swoosh. I love transmitting my thoughts on to a website for all to read, or none to follow. Sometimes my blogs make review boards and sometimes they make the trash. My best work has already been finished, I am just waiting to hit the bottom. I used to write poetry, while in the slumps of Iraq and look where that got me. I'm fucked up in America, or as Bushy would say Amer'ca. Wow, what to write.....It seems as if I am hitting a wall of potential as the night slips away. I am supposed to be sleeping but instead I am wide awake waiting for my 5 a.m. buzzer to go off. Then I am off to Arapahoe Basin for the day where I will enjoy absolutley nothing. I am so excited to kick this year off, yet I am so worried that my time snowboarding has come to and end. What if it has? What if I am past my peak? What worries will I bring my children when I cannot do anything besides write. My skin will be old and saggy, yet I will still have this message board. I wonder if what I write will ever make money. Maybe I will be fortunate enough to have my work plagerized while I am alive to see it in someone else's name. I will take full credit for that, even though someone else already received it.
Ahhhh.....Shit.....I should really be getting back to bed,

keystone-

tick,tick,tick..bzzzzzt!!!!!

When did this tick start? When was the clock initiated? When did I start a timeline that would end with a provisional failure? I guess that all started the summer term of 2008. I was beginning a very hard term of school that would not only prove hard, but disasterous. I began with Trigonometry, Introduction to web design and my final english class. As the term worked on, I became numb to the outside world. Work began to take it's toll while I attempted to make the best out of school. Soon exams, quizzes and lengthy study sessions where in order and I was out enjoying the summer. I had just bought a new motorcycle, found out my wife was pregnant, and had a friend come home from Iraq. How does a normal person balance that kind of schedule and take on school full time? Hell, my answer is "I don't know", but people do it every year. Actually most students have the summer off which is why they might get a needed break now and then. Anyways, back to my subject of this tick,tick, tick.......I noticed something spiraling out of control when I found myself peering into an advisors notebook which logged all of the drop outs from this math class. Before she wrote my information on the drop slip, she recorded another failure in her notebook. Slightly suggesting that this class may need some reform, or the classes before it were not covering the correct material. Either way, I dropped the course and became a statistic. I dropped the course and there I was, all alone in the math world wondering what was next. I know what my calling is, but I am not facing it head on. There is only one logical reason why I am not studying journalism.....it is because I feel many people I know have started on my road, only to end up realizing they were meant for something else. I've never felt this before,when I was in Iraq I was meant to fight. I loved the front lines and I never shyed away from a single mission that brought the bullets to my chest. Yet now I am having an inner conflict trying to figure out what I am meant for. Maybe this is all to premature since my test score has not even been revealed, but I know it's not good. I studied all weekend and most of the week to attain all of the information for this test. I was only shallow on two parts of the chapter, two parts that ended up costing me 18 points on this exam. You are probably wondering what the worst part is, well it's those 18 points, the 18 points that were felt over two questions. So....yeah....I fucked it all up. Maybe I should stop trying to lead a life that I think will secure me and lead a life by my heart. That would require a change, a change that I have never endorsed, since everything I've done has been secure.

Keystone, out.

Trust

Trust is not given, by some means it is not even earned. It is action, or lack of words all at once. Maybe trust can be defined as someone's inner being, the image they call themselves. How about my so called "friends". Almost everyone of them has betrayed me at some time and I feel the pinch. First my friends who I will call A and E lie tandomly to cover for a mistake left by one of their images. For instance, supposedly a bridge is one lower man's responsibility and yet he has no degree that would implicate relevance towards that work.
The hardest part is when you find friends who only end up betraying you. The light they shed brings out the good in you yet the light they shed makes you want to analyze them more. I want to analyze everyone and help them, yet I find myself seeking the evil in them only to find they are going to betray me. I see it before they do, I see the evil and I strike upon it. Why can I not find the courage to kill off the hurt they will bring to me eventually.
How about some close friends leaving my wife and I for dead. Might as well have. Fuckers, I've got better ways to waste my time.
Peace.
Keystone