Today is an easy day. School supplies are a must. It's funny how our list of 'things to get' changes when you get older. Before it went as follows: Pencils. Stickers. Folders (funny ones). Paper. Pen. Markers. Crayons. Colored Paper. Big binder (maybe garfield). Now: Pens. High liters. Post its. Depression medication. Loose paper. Planner. Liquor. Parking decal. Sweat pants. Fruit roll-ups. Tylenol. No-dos. Caffeine pills. The list goes on. Things were simpler when I was younger. Now everything adds up to money and how to make money. Maybe I'm not concerned about money. Maybe I'm just concerned about happiness. Happiness to me: Desserted island. Open beach. Warm weather. Tropical fruit. The ocean. And always the ocean. I've come to wonder about things. About the things I want. Why do I love the ocean so much? I've never seen the real ocean. On television it looks nice. Deep down inside I know what it is like. Deep down inside I know it better than anyone. I know the ocean like I know myself. Some sweet desperate knowledge that I have. Why? How? I don't know. It's there though, every time my mind wanders. It wanders to the ocean. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ silent streets darkness meets shadows pass their time playing useless games raining down from heaven mistakes and anthems fall onto our heads wishing there was more time wishing there was more to say shadows dance along the streets hearing the whispers of the night calling for all those who care calling for all those who don't ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What a poet. Some day they'll all see my gift. Even if it takes until I die. Most people gain more fame after they are dead then while they are living. That's my positive outlook. Some day my work will be worth millions. Presently my work is worth more when it's burned. Oh well. My heart's not broken. It takes more than failure to keep me down. I'll be fine as long as a really big safe doesn't fall on my head. I should get off of the computer and do my work. Or at least go get the things I need for tomorrow. I am avoiding all responsibility again. I am good at procrastination. There should be a course in college called 'Slacker 101.' I would be happy to teach it. I am hoping that I don't screw this semester up like I have regretfully done all the others. All I can do is hope. Hope is a lovely word. And an even better excuse. Maybe I won't. Maybe I will screw up. There's nothing I can do. Well yes, I could do my work, go to classes, and stop putting things off, but where will that really get me? No where, but unhappiness. Where would I be without my last minute papers? Or my incomplete homework? These are the things that keep me moving. All the last second details I need to finish. I feel as though this was meant to be either way. If I quit, something else will come along. If I stay, something else will make me stay. It's a cycle with no ending. Or an endless cycle with no beginning. Or a beginning that has no middle and lacks an ending. Or it's just the middle with nothing ahead or behind. Than again, maybe it's all just bullshit and we're fooling ourselves. Work your entire life for retirement. Die before you see the Grand Canyon. It makes no sense. But in this world, nothing makes much sense. Time to quit.