Here I am, at my parents house. It’s currently 3:06 in the morning as I write this entry and my mind is somewhat cloudy. Boozin and karaoking with friends, some old and some new, what a blast. I can’t go to sleep because there’s something totally bothering me; where I am at in my life. You know how some people when they hit the big three o they reflect on their current standing and gripe about all the goals they have yet to reach?

I’m like that, except I’m 21.

The reason wy I am reflecting isn’t because I just turned 21, no that was a few months ago and couldn’t have mattered less, but it is the fact that I’m seeing all of these people around me who are achieving something significant in their lives. A girl I vaguely knew from high school has become a very popular musician in asia, another guy from high school has been recognized as an actor, a guy from college (who to my surprise is the best ssbm player in the world) is on a reality show. These guys despite being young has already achieved alot of things in life and I have yet to amount to much. I know some of you would say “look on the brighter side of things, you’re better off than some” or “you’re still young” or perhaps even “it doesn’t happen to many” but to me, that’s unforgivable. It’s extreme dissappointment in myself. This feeling has brewed since the age of 18, but hasn’t been evoked until now. What happened to my big dreams? What happened to the goals I set in highschool before I went into the world? I was going to be somebody and do big things to change the world. No, I was setting myself a deadline that was completely forgotten. If i had achieved my goals as I intended back then, I would be a reknowned artist, drawing stories they wanted and inspiring young and old readers alike.

But no, I’m a single, mediocre artist who doesn’t know what the hell he wants anymore. My drawing style doesn’t get accepted and i hate the crap they force us to dole out. So bland, so normal, so uninspiring. I don’t think I can take this system much longer. I don’t want to be just another product of narrow minded thinking. I want more, so much more out of my time here. Maybe that’s my problem. My dreams were never really conventional to begin with so probably the default method of achieving my goals won’t work. I don’t want to work for an illustration company or do story boarding, or even go to fucking lakeshore, I just want to work on something that will launch me towards my goal, which I have no idea since I’ve been beaten senselessly to think realistically. I need to get my act together, and I have a feeling college won’t be in the equation for much longer…

I guess this is what you would call being “jaded”.

Greetings and salutations. It’s been almost a year since I’ve written anything on this log. Truth be told, I forgot about it until that Lewis Black show, the root of all evil (I think), was debating whether web logging (or “blogging” as we know it) or Mixed Martial Arts was evil. MMA won and that’s all I can remember about that show.

It’s strange, over the past year, there hasn’t been any truly significant events in my life, but then again, 21 years have flown by and not much has happened.

In the duration of the year I’ve: realized that school is tedious and degrees are becoming meaningless, found an great place to work at, fully realized how tied to money we all are and nothing’s gonna change that unless you’re willing to sacrifice everything, started training in Krav Maga, found new friends while losing all contacts with old ones (save one or two), and understood that life in general isn’t all that bad.

On a car ride home I can’t recall when, I remember T.C. talking about how if you look back in life and looked at in the broader schemes of things, you’ll realize that God plays a big role and will guide you to where you are now. Safe, alive, and still you. I’m not a big God believing man myself, but I can see what she meant. The day to day things are rather trivial until they start linking up. I imagine it as a step a day to conquer and to look forward. One day when you look back, you’ll see how far you’ve gone even if you haven’t actually moved.

For now, my dreams will remain big and I’ll see how far that’ll get me. Hopefully, your will remain big as well.

-Steven T.

Recently I’ve become very restless. Reflecting on the events that i have encountered, i’ve grown a new aspect on life. Live in the now, why spend my life couped sitting at a desk. But you see, although I feel this to my core, my dreams will not allow me to recklessly pursue spontanteous desires. That is why I miust strike a balance where life is not just on the drawing board, but the dynamics of living. I am filled with eager and joy while i am active but i also feel accomplishment and satisfaction when rendering what is on my mind. Although both are different in nature, they are nearly one in the same. I only pray that by compromising both, I will have enough time to lay the foundations of my dreams. For that, I hope that the world will not crumble by then.

Although not absolutely irrelevant, I believe that the future now belongs to us, our generation and the generations to come. It has been proven that old way of thinking has become corrupt with power and money and has failed to do what it is supposed to do. Don’t wait on the world to change, make a difference. We can no longer continue with the old mentality so we must come up with new alternative and bold ways to shape our future. Have courage to take matters into your own hand, live life the way it’s supposed to be, and most importantly let’s create a better future for all everyone.

-Regards to your well being

The nameless voice inside us all.

There once was a boy who decided to leave on his own.

Embarking on his journey, he left everyone he’d known

For days and days, the boy traveled to find the nearest of towns

As fate would have it

He met a sullen man with the biggest of frowns

The boy asked this man, who seemed on a trek

For what reason he was looking like a total wreck?

The man took his time to weigh his answer

and the man finally delivered.

He said, “My boy, i have lost my horse

She left when i showed no remorse

for all the time we traveled without rest.

Oh how i regret that we take things for granted

But in the end become disenchanted

By the rights that were wrong.

So I ask you boy, if you could find it in your heart

To accompany this old man to the nearest city port?”

Happy with glee for he met his first friend

he quickly obliged and together they went.

The second day after they met,

they decided to make camp outside the city limits

They called it a day and turned off the lamp.

The boy dreamt little dreams of adventures and friends

But it obviously would have to come to an end.

The boy woke his tiresome little head

a week of journeying will do that, especially without his bed.

To his surprise the old man was gone

everything was missing, even the boy’s possessions.

Left with nothing besides the cloths on his back

To anyone else this was a major set-back

But the boy did not mind

He hoped the man had found his steed

instead of seeing that it was the man’s greed

Now stuck with little and alone once again.

The boy traveled whistling with nothing to complain.

Chapter 1 -end-

Alone at the peak, the eagle gazed through the clouds. Years have passed as he saw nothing but the sky and clouds; just up he recalled. He had missed the lives of those that were down below; scurrying to and fro their lives, living each day as it were there last. Peaceful they were, living joyfully amongst each other. They toiled the earth and sowed seeds of fruition, in hopes of a brighter day. Though they perspired, panted, and groaned, they all still wore a smile at the end of the day. The eagle had forgotten the days like these, perched on a tree, curious of these beings. Through the branches, silent and keen, he observed these people. But the ground was not for him. He wanted to go higher, higher than these beings below. To see the world from above, close to the sun; to feel the sharp air under his wings; to fly  to a place where few have managed to reach; all something a angst bird would do.

Now he sits atop the world. He devoted years of his life to reach this place but still sits alone. No one to see him here in majesty, no one to notice his feats. This wizened eagle now perches at the peak, where only he himself could once see.

The night air is fucking cold today. Fucking california weather; one day it’s hot, another it’s blisteringly cold. The meteorologist doesn’t know shit about the weather. They should just bring some farmer on the news show and predict the weather, because I know he’ll do a fucking better job. The lights streak on by as the car speeds down the 605. Just like all of us, they are standing alone in a world where there millions of other just like them. Mini-vans filled with people whose destination probably has nothing to do with me. They all live their own lives, own agendas, own minds, own futures; just like me. My two fucking suitemates talk about something along the lines of starwards, and I begin to tune out. It happens often. I’m frankly too fucking tired to care about their bullshit stories and experiences. The highway is empty tonight, it’s barely ten yet there’s only a handleful in sight. Most of them are those behemoth gas guzzlers that dumbass fuckers get to compensate for something that they don’t want the public to know about. I hate those fuckers; you ain’t macho, you’re stupid. I tune back in to check what’s happening in the car, and now they’re talking about Lord of the Rings. They’re not those fat sci-fi fuckers who work at comic book stores, but they’re kind of bad at times; but who isn’t. I’ve found myself talking about old shows or something “uncool” once in a while, but one of them is an asshole. I won’t delve into it, but he just is. And finally, we pull up into the parking lot and proceed to walk to our goal.

I should’ve brought my hoodie.

” I can show you the world
Shining, shimmering, splendid
Tell me, princess, now when did-”

A young man abesently slurs his sing along as he plays with his wood. Working with a knife and sand paper is never a good thing if one isn’t focused.  It is a dimy lit room and he sits at his IKEA supplied desktop, trying to cut the perfect shape. He continues to do this for quite sometime until he looks at his computerscreen. Five messages are desperately trying to get his attention but he knows what it is. “How you doing?” says one. “Hey I got a question-” “You bust tonight? You mind giving me a r-” “Dude, check this video-” all of which he quickly ignores save one.

“Unbelievable sights
Indescribable feeling-”

He pushes away the scrap wood and frantically tries to find the keyboard under all the mess. He taps the keyboard upside down to rid of the saw dust and types in the message.  It’s been sometime since he last saw this screenname, not to mention the greeting. Somewhere, thousands of miles away from where he is, he knows the person behind the eerie glow is hurt again. The banal questions that poses as faux concerns are of coursed asked. It’s polite, one can’t suddenly look for a shoulder to cry on without going through this process. Of course he sits and listens to all that person has to say, ocassionally answering with a yes, or no, or something simple.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes
A hundred thousand things to see
Hold your breath – it gets better”

Along the sands of time, lost in the memories of new, he had once began to feel something for her, but that has long since passed. Time will do that. Strangers, but not quite strangers, things could never happen. Memories of good conversations fade off as reality sets in. It’s late and that person leaves and he returns to work, not daring to wonder how many years it will be from now that he see that screen again. He knows both have their own lives to live and things to face, and for now he must face his wood. Hopefully he can finish in due time.

” I can’t go back to where I used to be-”

Outside in the crisp gale, smoke exhalted from the breath of the young man. These were the nights where worries salvaged his mind. Lost in his thoughts and barely aware of his surroundings, face and greetings went by and were forgotten. They weren’t important, there was too many things to do and there was too little time to do it in.

There are times when one needs a breather from the world.

Concentrate and you’ll hear the sounds around you

The sigh of the breathing wind

The crackling of the winter fire

The caws of heavenly birds

The sways of wise trees

The ebb of gentle water

The footsteps of the littlest ant

The fall of lofting snow

But Concentrate

For then you will hear the beating of your heart

Because after all

That is the sound of life.

Sitting there at his desk, the young man checks his life online. “With one click of a button, We can predict your lifeline! (results will vary). Like a fortune cookie, it reads, “The path that you have chosen is one that is filled with many bumps.” How vague can it be? It’s back to work as the guy returns to his canvas sketching away his thoughts, but still it’s not quite right. Chirstmas day and he’s alone, sitting there, pondering what’s wrong with the picture and not even realizing the date. He decides to walk it off and hopefully unclogging the artist’s block with the crisp cold air; the one you can see and draw. For an hour, he aimlessy walks about the quite neighborhood, not noticing the carollers or the seemingly perfect joyous stereotypical families eating a delightful meal. He eventually doubles back and returns to his work space, giving it another chance, but something taps his brain; he forgot to get the mail. Junk mail, credit card offers, seemingly useless mails that corporate hacks try to bombard people with, hoping they would fall into their scam. As he throws it away, the last mail he didn’t catch that was stuck between a credit card offer was his letter for a previous project. Rejected. Standing there, expressionless for about a full 5 minutes, he just tosses it away, saying better luck tomorrow. Deep down, he imagined it was accepted, he can fool whoever nonexistantly heard what he just said, but he can’t fool himself despite how hard he tries. He imagined himself in a different environment, reading the letter with a plethora of people he knew and realizing that he was commissioned, but that’s just an imagination. Too tired, lazy, didn’t feel right, those are all just excuses fabricated to make himself feel better, but the truth of the matter is he knows that someone out there was just better than he was. Checking his computer once again and stumbling to that fortune cookie crap website; it reads “Luck is the winning factor of life.” Fuck that he thought, and resumed to work on his endlessly white blatantly screaming canvas; hopefully tackling it this time around.