I'm living in a fairy tale world. It takes another bombing, shooting, what have you, to wake me up from the dream. I complain of being tired, sick of commuting, being hungry. . .but I have never known real problems. I walk past the homeless people begging for help each day, I judge them and avert my eyes. I say I want meaning in my life, but don't do anything about it. So many dreams and aspirations- so little action. I give a few coins here and there to keep my guilt away, talk about wanting to do peace corp, go to mass on sundays- and then go back to my self serving life. Time for bed. . .I'm tired again.