I Love You.

 It's been about a week since I posted. It's been about about a week since I've  felt anything. From sadness to anger -- nothing.
 I recently told someone I loved them. And they didn't respond. I've never in my life experienced that. Loving someone, I mean. I can't explain with words how much I loved, and still love, her. She was what I thought about constantly. She was in my dreams, in my reality. And I thought she felt the same way.
 I don't know where to go from here. I haven't seen her since that night, which is strange as we live in the same building. Part of me wants to see her. To see how she's doing, how she's getting along. But part of me is afraid to see her, because I don't know how I, or she, will react. Will I run up and talk with her? Or will I pretend not to notice her? I guess it's best I not think of it. Maybe I can just forget the past I had with her. Ha, impossible.
 I still don't know where we stand. After confessing my feelings to the only person I've ever loved, I got no response. No 'I love you, too'. I left the bed and strolled out of her apartment. She saw my eyes, my tears. Nothing else was said; the only sound being the door closing behind me. I stood outside of her room for at least 10 minutes. Tracing the number on the door, I realized that it was 2 in the morning and that I should go. I walked down the stairs, ignoring the 'Hello'  from a passing tenant, and opened my door.
 I haven't done much since. Work. Eat. Sleep (or lack there of). I haven't even picked up my school books. And since classes are suppose to start back next week -- that's not the best for my studies. Oh well.

Fuck it. I'm going to go sleep. Better than dealing with these feelings. Shit.

Let's Go Back To 1911

 Who needs running water? Electricity? Well, I guess those are privileges... What do we really need? Family. Friends. Love. Sanity. I bet there were tons of that in 1911, along with outlaws and sheriffs running the un-divided nation. Not so much peace, but we don't have that now, do we? Most of my close friends are either in Iraq, getting ready to deploy, or training at the moment. Iraq is a VERY controversial subject (I won't get into that) but I don't think Iraq is the SOLE reason America doesn't have peace. I think the guilt lies with law, government, media, and the people out there who are just geniunely horrible.
 I wish I lived in 1911 about now. Sure I'd have to trade in the Jeep for a horse, but I could manage. Me, my new cowboy boots, and a harmonica, would be fine. I guess I should take a trip to Target and then be on my way -- back in time. In my opinion, the good out-ways the bad here. I'd rather have the necessities, then a lack of.

Plus, I kinda like Westerns.

Candy Cigarette by Sally Mann

 I'm not in any way trying to make this a 'photography' blog, but I'm trying to put a visual with my words. And when I saw this photo, I of course thought of this next post. What does this photo show? What is the story behind it? When I look at this, I view the difference in kids today from kids in say the 60's. It sounds like a rather 'old' thing to say, but I believe its true. While I could still be viewed as a kid at 18 years old, I think this photo shows the obvious visual of a child. A child holding a cigarette, that is.
I remember my parents always referring to 'the old days', when kids would stay outside 9 hours of the day and just 'hoop and holler'. But now most children/kids are inside playing video games, while their teenage siblings are drinking, using drugs, and having sex at local parties. I guess my question is: Where is the innocence? I have a 11 year old niece and when I compare her to even my 11 year old memories, I'm intrigued by the difference. I drove her to school last week and when she started to get out of the car, I told her to have a good day. Her reply? "Oh, I will. Jimmy said we could kiss at lunch!" and she ran off. What? 11 years old and 'kissing at lunch'? 
The point of this post is to say that innocence is slowly leaving kids at the ages of 7-8 now. It was different in 1960, but why? I guess kids have evolved. Parents have evolved. And America has certainly evolved.

American - The Rich vs. The Poor

The picture below makes me emotional. Not in a 'Oh! Boo hoo hoo! That poor boy!' way. In a 'Wow. If astronauts can walk on the moon, if scientists can clone animals, if doctors can bring people back from the dead, Why can't America give this boy food, water, and wash cloth?' kind of way. I guess emotional can describe the feeling, appalled is another, and most fitting: humiliated. Humiliated in the fact that TV networks can spend MILLIONS of dollars on reality television, but can't lend people in Africa or Haiti, a bottled water and half a cracker. What about government? I don't see any Senators out there with a baby wipe.
This one photo makes me rethink America and all the glamour of being a citizen. But hey, I'm not out in any 3rd world country wiping feces off of children's bare feet either.
I guess my anger really goes nowhere. Except this blog.

What is a Blog?

What is a blog? When I ask this, I guess I should say ''What is MY blog?''. Well, I can't answer with anything original. I guess I'll go with a generic answer.
My blog will be about me. My life. My experiences. I don't expect one person to ever read this post. And I don't expect one person to ever read any of my posts. What I expect, and what I will get, is reassurence. Reassurence about my sanity. Reassurence about me NOT being completely alone in everything I do, everything I think.
I guess this whole blog will answer questions. And my first question isn't so easy. As I said above, this blog isn't meant for an audience. It isn't meant for a laugh track or even a lousy 'clap, clap'. What I'm trying to say is, this blog is for me.
I don't want criticism, nor do I need it. Do I want opinions? Yes, I welcome them with excitement. To discuss different views is a great thing, and I would love to join the debate, or even initiate it.
If you choose: Read my blogs, my opinions. Comment, express yourself. And follow my posts if you'd like. 
I welcome you, the unexpected reader, to my blog. :)