OKAY, last entry in this Xanga.  Leave an AIM name on here if you want to know my new one and I'll IM you.  Or else if you catch me online "curious stars" IM me.  BUT it's doubtful I'll be using that AIM name much anymore.  So yesh.  For most of the people I subscribe to now, more likely than not I'll be subscribing to you from my new site too.  So if there's a person subbing to you from a strange site whose writing seems like mine, it's me. 

Au revoir.

I wrote this at almost three in the morning last night after I wandered around Urbana for a while.

It used to be that midnight was the "witching hour," the time when everything magic came out to play.  Now, midnight is simply another hour.

2am.  Truth.  A time when your dreams are realities and your realities appear as misty dreams.  The air is brisk and cold and rarely do gales of winds cross your path when walking alone at this hour.  Light breezes whisper to my soul that time is passing and so is life.  Stars taunt and tease human mortality though lofty as they seem, they may have been dead for centuries.  All that remains is the light we see with our imperfect eyes, our unfocused vision.  The lights we take for granted at night may well be the last any will ever see.

And then it's gone.

Stars have no afterlife; they are then they aren't.  And humans?  Somewhere, is someone looking at each of us as a tiny, unassuming dot of light making our way across the galaxy of time?  And when that one day comes when we too cease to exist, will no one take notice but to say, look at the beautiful stars...but that one--that one is not so beautiful.  Its light is dim, we do not like unpretty things.  We like the bright and shiny.

Ours is a world of newer is better.  Circumstances constantly change, people never will.  Always wanting more and more in terms of gratuitous material wealth...but it's how you have to be to survive in this new evolution.  Nevermind the survival of the fastest or strongest or even smartest, it's whoever has the most, whoever has the most deadly weapon, whoever is the most conniving.  The stars sing but no one listens to their song.  The winds whisper life's truths into a waiting ear at two in the morning but no one sits still long enough to listen to their wisdom.

Ashen rain begins to fall
Like the words flow from your lips
Silvery, sparkling, cleansing me
Through the blood of my spirit
Running black from my soul.

Walking through life you learn valuable lessons.  After a period to time, friendship's fair facade falls away revealing the creature beneath.  At times the creature is more beautiful than you could have ever imagined while at other times the creature is a hideous beast, cruel-hearted and ice-cold.  Empty gestures and half-hearted attempts at trying to look like they care replace the earlier semblances of caring and compassion.

There's a fine line between being driven by your passions and letting them overrun you.

I do, then I think.  Passionate, tempermental, driven, overrun...yes.

Cold black rain falls on my soul
Bloody from your beating words
Blackened, glistening in the night's bare light
Driven by passions
Haunted by emotion
Shutting out feeling
Trying to regain a long-lost dignity.

The stars are out, the moon is new, and all that can be heard is the soft lapping of the waves against the sandy shore. [Bass keeps the beat]

The first ray yawns into the sky, unfurling its painted lace and making the skies blush.  [A flute makes its debut with a single pure note]

The world, once dark, lightens gray, then an invisible hand paints the scene. [Violins join in, pianissimo]

The emerald Koolaus sparkle in the rising light and their majesty reverberates over the glimmering bay. [Cellos sing tenor, echos resound, the winds and brass and strings all dance in the symphony of a crystal morning]

ME...
i love music...but not just one genre.  i do like reggae sometimes, i love the beatles, i don't think i'm a bad person for it and i certainly don't think i have bad taste in music.  i like rock music, more now that i'm listening to it more.  i hear music in almost everything everyday. i like nimrod better than dookie.

i like the smell of mornings and evenings, i love the feeling of the air at 2 in the morning when the ocean's surf is crashing thirty feet away and the stars are dancing in the infinite universe.

i believe in random, strange coincidences, i believe in reasons, i choose night over day, i admire wit and sarcasm, i love shakespeare.

CONTRARY to what some believe, i do not let others dictate my beliefs.  i may act a certain way to avoid unecessary conflict, but i have my own opinions.

i don't have a religion.  the concept of allowing something like that to dictate your life is something that i don't choose for myself.

i love the feeling of lying in utter darkness and letting it wash over me and just kind of cleanse me.  on the same thread, i don't like gray-black light...the in-between when i can't stand to close my eyes...

i have paranoias i can't control and i hate the feeling of helpless inadequecy.  i resent myself for being afraid and i often overcompensate for it by being reckless in life, not thinking when i should.

ironically, i sometimes think too much about things and complicate simple issues.

i'm playful, but i go from puppy to bitch if i get pissed off, i'm tempermental to a fault.  stubborn as hell, i can be a jackass about things i believe in if you don't agree with me, i get worked up about things i feel strongly about.  i despise hypocrisy, although sometimes i feel as if my feelings conflict with one another.  i don't talk shit about people in the sense that i don't say anything i wouldn't say to the person's face.