row boats, throw frisbees, catch footballs, toss cards, make jokes, cook food, rake leaves, build stuff, ponder people, ask why, be amazed, interpret art, write carefully, watch curiously, act justly, touch tenderly, sit quietly, think deeply, walk purposefully, bike quickly, listen intently, reason philosophically, reflect spiritually, feel great, drink casually, live daily, buy locally, eat healthy, laugh outwardly, empathize inwardly, speak knowingly, befriend constantly, exist naturally, express freely, react instantly, and then eat vinegar bbq with everything on it because only carolinians can do it right Thursday, November 10 Let's see... Everyone goes through a time when they are young when they realize that there is an end to life. It is a pretty hard topic to understand. I remember walking around some patch of woods while my parents were off socializing with some people when I found a dead baby bird being eaten by an army of ants. I couldn't comprehend why the bird wasn't chirping and flying and flapping and having a grand old time. I couldn't comprehend why the ants were marching all around the inside taking little bits of the bird away. I sat there watching them for awhile and started crying. My father and I buried the bird. How do people come to terms with such a traumatic experience? Everyone has memory similiar to this one. It is impossible to be conclusive with the unknown. All we can know is that death is an inevitability. That's why people feel the need to relate their day to day activities to another person, whether it be a friend, relative, roommate or lover. As cliched as it may be, the act of telling is comforting. If I pass on someone will know who I was. Why do you think people flock so easily to telling their life stories on their AIM profiles or on facebook? It is because every single person alive has the dream that at their funeral at least once person could come up and say, "Here he lies. Buried here with his body are his successes, his wants, his needs, and his shortcomings. Before him are those he cared for and those that cared for him. For this one day, at least, let us stand here in silence and remember." i am the crazy filipino who will follow you and steal your rice. and money. but rice first. Beware. “A warrior chooses a path with heart, any path with heart, and follows it; and then he rejoices and laughs. He knows because he sees that his life will be over altogether too soon. He sees that nothing is more important than anything else.” -- Carlos Castaneda Translation: I like to laugh. I don't give a fuck. "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace things, but burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes "AWWW!"" Translation: I like crazy people. Crazy people are my friends. Therefore I am INSANE. Ba-ZING! "I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling. Ecstacy, even, I felt, with flashes of sudden remembrance, and feeling sweaty and drowsy I felt like sleeping and dreaming in the grass." --Jack Kerouac Translation: Woods are cool.