They told me to write everyday. The advice is: you should write down every feeling, every inkling, every thought. Put it on paper. Type it on compute. Put it somewhere so hopefully someone will come around and think your awesome.

Sad thing is, most of my thoughts don't mean a damn. Most of mine mean even less than the lessors and the lessees that I read about in "Real Estate Finance", and what's up with those names anyway? Maybe if I sat here everyday and quit school, quit finance, quit the bullshit, quit life, quit supporting..I'd have a voice of reason. I don't think I can.

Maybe my voice would be the loudest. Maybe my voice is one that would love to live forever because I love everything. At work I am the cynic, everyone thinks so. They think I am a pessimist. I am. I am everything in between. I see only the reality. The bug crawled into a fan and got chopped up...I am not a cynic. I am only pointing out the event happened and is now gone, taking a life along with it.

I love rain. I love it most of all when the sun first pops up. It tries to seep through but instead creates a cloud. The rain is all I can hear when I step outside with my cup of coffee. Everyone stays inside when it rains. They forgot the days when muddy children rode their bikes until they crashed, the blood and dirt was something exclusive. A club really. It happens only once in life and then it's gone. No one is a member anymore. Everything is safe.

Children now play wii. They will never know the feeling of chasing their friend through a grassy wet field, crashing as their mouth grates against the dirt. Their chin is bleeding but they insist they are ok. It is terrible when mom and dad find out you were being a dumb kid. No one wants to sit on a couch for hours and listen to "when I was your age...".

They told me to write everyday. Everyone tells you to write everyday, but I know they don't hold themselves up to the same standards. I love counselors and bullshitters. I love psychologists who have spent their life creating conditions, when the only condition that ever existed was humanity.

They told me to write every day so I will. So I am. What is there to write about? I could write about the world, but it makes no difference. We are small ants upon an impossibly large mound.