Published Sunday September 25th, 2005

Every passing day I seem to realise more and more that I will likely spend all my life searching for what to do with my life. Perhaps what I want to do with my life is figure out what to do with it. Both statements seem very true to me.. A few days ago I touched the keys of a piano for the first time in at least half a year, if not almost a full year. I sat down on the bench and my fingers fell into place, started gliding up and down the keys, and played the same fashion they did last time I have used them this way. I tried to play a song I used to frequently play. It was awful. Wrong notes, awkward pauses, but suddenly a connection was made in my brain and all the arrangement of notes flooded back into my head and the correct sounds followed in a great rush. It was refreshing. It was as if i had opened a locked vault filled with the past and let it spill into the present.

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Last night I saw Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride" in theatre at the Jans Mall with Chelsea, Matt, and Simon. I really liked the movie. When Victor played his duet on the grand piano in the giant empty hall my heart plunged into oblivion because the orgasmic sounds the little piano solo produced on said piano were just too much for me to take. I wanted (and still want) to hear it over and over.. and over and over, etcetera. Similar was the case when Victor and the corpse bride played the duet on the piano..

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I have three great interests which could lead to majors and/or careers: Photography/something artsy, music, and computers.. I can't pick. It's just not possible. It's not. Don't even bother insisting that it is, because, I am sorry, but you're wrong. It's just not possible. So what am I to do? I don't know.

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I've been programming a lot lately. My most major recent project is "foga" which will be my new gallery system for this site. I've invested about 25-30 hours into foga so far. Most of foga is already feature complete (with AJAX!), and the database has already been built with some 11,000 images that will be available for viewing. It is most likely that the next entry will mark the release of foga, so this is why I've mentioned it's existence. I'm very excited about it because it will let me publish my photography very rapidly and make it seamlessly easy for me to include images in my weblog entries. Give it some attention when I release it.

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Piano solos, programming of photo gallery, and inevitably the viewing of many photographs leave me at a cross road between music, photography, and programming. I stand here at this three way intersection and know not which direction to go. If i had a shovel I would go down. I've I had a ladder I would go up. In the reverse of an early-modern European sailor, I cannot easily move in a lateral way.

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Too many people cannot see beyond their own perspectives. I am no exception.

Too many people appologies too frequently for the wrong reasons, and too little for the right.

Happiness is difficult.

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Work at Kragen today was special. Special in the way a retard might behave and not so much in the way one might feel on one's birthday. The cashier went to lunch and I got stuck on register. Immediately a crowd, drawn by the aura of a not-so-thrilled, now-at-the-register Marco lines up for checkout. Patience slowly withered and irritation quickly grew. Annoyance at the relentless force of stupidity and arrogance committed by the average Weekend Shopper watered seeds of internal anger and frustration.

I began to shiver. In the greater distance, parents of the other party from a previous unfortunate affair emerged in the crowd. I began to tremble. Arrogance and ignorance continued to spew from now seemingly primitive and monsterous customers. Tunnel vision grew; my surroundings disappeared. Item, bar-code, beep sound, total amount on register screen are the only things I see. I can feel my hair turning grey. A quick glance up breaks the eternal routine. More customers. No end in sigh. Previously mentioned parents closer. Fatigue. Trembling turns to rather violent shaking. Scanning items becomes difficult. Providing change is tedious. Customers practise great impatience. Much hated opening-and-closing of the fingers wave becomes common. Irritation increases greatly. More customers.. I've lost count, even estimation is invalid. Realisation: what happened to previously mentioned parents? A glance outside seems them walking towards their car. An image flashes in my mind. Moving mouths. What were they saying? Did I process their warehouse order correctly? Whats the guy in front of me saying? What am I saying? My hands are moving. I'm looking at the register.

Customer. Items. Bar-code. Scan. Screen. Drawer open. Hands move. Customer. Item. Bar-code. Scan. Screen. The customer is saying something to me. Wave of emotions of Irritation. What is she saying? Why is she so ugly? I bet she's been a bitch all her life. Look at all those wrinkles, that baggy skin.. I bet its Karma for being such a bitch to every sales person she's ever met. I say something. I feel a tingle of amusement in my heart. What did I do? She looks impatient. I don't care. I open the drawer. I count her change. I count her change. I count her change. Suddenly I'm bending over and I start picking up coins from the ground. I stand back up, turn and see the woman fatigued with karma steaming out of Kragen. Emotions of rejoicement fill me. I drop the change in my hands into the small Red Cross donations bin.

Customer. Items. Bar-code. Scan. Screen. Drawer open. Hands move. Emotions of annoyance. Customer. Item. Bar-code. Scan. Screen. Irritation. Customer. Items. Customer says something. I suddenly feel as though time had been paused but my consciousness left un-paused. No thoughts. A great pause.CRASH. Tunnel vision vanishes. Aggravation, anger, annoyance, and irritation disappear. My "heart" is exhausted. I chuckle and say, "You have a nice day, too."

What did he say? .. I think it was a he.

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I went to lunch with Antonio. We had a lot of good laughs. Antonio and I closed. After we closed the store, we got onto the electrical scooters that customers had returned and started racing up and down the isles chucking things at each other. We spent around 20 minutes screwing around in the store with the scooters before we were absolutely exhausted and went home.

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I was slapped in the face by a realisation. I think it's disgusting when opinions come from blind love just how a child's politics will be a reflection of the politics of the child's parents. Even the most complex of people are seemingly basic and generally unsophisticated. Disgust.

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Why can't writing an essay for English be as easy as writing this entry?

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Bedtime.