"The core of man's spirit comes from new experiences"

"It should not be denied that being footloose has always exhilarated us.  It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations.  Absolute freedom.  And the road has always led west."

                                                   -Christopher Johnson McCandless

Halloween 2009.

Third post of the day.

I hate being politically correct.  Trust me, I'm not racist at all. I don't mean it like that. I mean that I hate when people get offended by the word "gay" and insist on using the word "homosexual".  Like, you know you're gay. I know you're gay. Own up to it.  I feel like the word "homosexual" is a coverup for someone who is ashamed.  It just sounds scientific and artificial.

Be proud of who you are.

I want to live

"I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt."

                                                                -John Krakauer

A truer sentiment there never was.  It is honestly the most amazing feeling to me when I walk through the boarding terminal at the airport.  No looking back, no strings attached.  Just me, my destination, and endless possibilities.  Albeit the only time I've ever flown alone was on my way to Ghana, but leaving my dad at the security gate and wandering by myself around the terminal was exhilarating.  The adrenaline rush was intense and fueled a flame in me that I hope never goes out.

I sincerely hope that I never get tired of not looking back.

On a semi-related note, I also wish I had the guts to do what I want.  One day, I want to leave and just drive for months without looking back.  I want to become an Invisible Children Roadie. I want to join the Peace Corps.  I want to start a club at school. I want to go visit my friends in Ghana. I want to be like the characters in the books I read, like Christopher J. McCandless or Henry David Thoreau.  I want to be brave enough to be me and express what I'm feeling.

Stories live.

When I read a book, I love knowing that my heroes and so many other people throughout history have read the same exact sentences, pondered the same words, scanned the same pages as I have. 

I become enthralled by wondering what they thought when they read this. Did they agree with Henry David Thoreau? Did they get angry at his simplistic thinking? Are we having the same thoughts? 

Let the wild rumpus start!

GO SEE WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE.

Ignore all the sketchy reviews.  They all say that it was too scary for kids and boring, but it was amazing!!! I honestly loved it so much. I cried in it, and I never cry during movies.  I went with my brother, sister, mother, and step-dad, and my brother, who's five, was only scared for about thirty seconds towards the end. The little boy, Max Records, who plays Max is legit the love of my life. The indie soundtrack by Karen O and the Kids was just the cherry on top.  Mad props to Spike Jonze.

Can I keep him, mommy?

For the record...

Im proud of how regularly I update this little bugger.  Having a blog or some sort of place to vent your thoughts is healthy. 

Samm-1 Life- ∞

I've been lacking.

Since I got my copy of The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown I've returned to my obsessive love of reading. I can't read as fast as I used to (about 2 pages a minute) but I'm still pretty fast. A few years ago I would come home from school, start a book, and finish it by dinner. I miss those days without Facebook or Myspace or Twitter. They let me experience real life in real time.

My new goal is to read twenty books that I haven't read yet before January 1st, 2010.

So far:

1. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown- 10/13/09 - 10/14/09

2. God-Shaped Hole by Tiffanie Debartolo- 10/15/09 - 10/16/09

3. Into The Wild by John Krakauer- 10/17/09 - 10/18/09

4. Kathy Griffin: Official Book Club Selection by Kathy Griffin- 10/24/09 - 10/26/09

Edit: I stopped reading again. :X Oops. New goal: 10 books by 1/1/10

Edit Take 2: I stopped reading. Goal officially un-met.

On the Bus

Today on the bus home from school I was thinking about random things and I realized that people who don't do things because they are "impossible" piss me off. And then I realized that I do it to.

I just ordered a collection of works by Henry David Thoreau and The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown off of Borders.  [:

PS- It's really windy and I'm listening to The Control. Look them up.

A lonely thought?

I don't need friends to survive.  I don't depend on them.  I depend on myself and my music and my books.  I don't go to them when I'm upset.  I've never had to be the shoulder for my best friend to cry on.  Instead, she went to someone else.  I don't miss my best friend.  I try to maintain a friendship because I know it's what I should want and I know I should miss how it USED to be. 

So now I'm going to bed with this thought.  Not lonely as I should be, but instead with a strange sense of independence and sorrow. 

A Supermarket In California by Allen Ginsberg

         What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for

 I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache

 self-conscious looking at the full moon. 

          In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went 

into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! 

          What peaches and what penumbras!  Whole families 

shopping at night!  Aisles full of husbands!  Wives in the 

avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what 

were you doing down by the watermelons?     

       

           I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, 

poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery 

boys.

           I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the 

pork chops?  What price bananas?  Are you my Angel?

           I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans 

following you, and followed in my imagination by the store 

detective.

           We strode down the open corridors together in our 

solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen 

delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

            Where are we going, Walt Whitman?  The doors close in 

an hour.  Which way does your beard point tonight?

           (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the 

supermarket and feel absurd.)

           Will we walk all night through solitary streets?  The 

trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be 

lonely.

            Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love 

past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?

           Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, 

what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and 

you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat 

disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

Ouchie.

My thumb, which I sprained back in July while playing a game of soccer with my friends in Ghana, has been KILLING me lately.  I know why, though. I never got it checked out or wrapped or anything and now I'm paying the price.  I still can't bend it all the way and the little stretch of skin between my index finger and thumb is still swollen a bit.

]:

Listening to: Beware the Moors! by PK