In the Backyard

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life...

for me

I've got wild staring eyes
I've got a strong urge to fly
But I've got nowhere to fly to 

nowhere to fly to...

The urge to do something with your life before is wastes away, degenerate, yet not knowing anything that you can do leaves you with a pent-up fire inside that demands greatness before you fade away in splendid mediocrity with the rest of the human race. In the end, you fall back into routine, work, school, whatever, and never venture to step out. The real way to fly, to doing the impossible, is to step off the ledge and dare defy gravity

War

...and on past 19

It was my birthday...I didn't do anything. I didn't even go out to dinner. Not like I could though, it's not like I choose to stay at the academy and have good ol' military food for dinner. Whatever, it's not like any of that really matters, or does it?

In either case what matters is that I am now 19. One year away from two decades of life. 20 years, equivalent of 1970-1990. That just seems like a long time when you look at what happened between those years, moreso from 1919-1939. We study history in clusters of time, clusters that do not represent anything meaningful until you compare your lifespan to the events you studied. I am now 1/4th through with my life and I desperately want to-or rather need to expedite everything I do in order to get the most out of what I have.

I have always thought of time as something one shouldn't squander, and just looking at how finite it really is, is a scary thought.

Two decades...Oh what I can write about of my near two decades of experience. And that's just it, write them down, memories that is, because when you find an old notebook filled with insightful musings and expectations of what I want to get out of the world and just sit down and read the very thoughts you had years ago, you go back to that very instant when you wrote them down and vividly re-experience everything that you held close to yourself.

 Every man has some reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, but only to his friends. He has others which he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But finally there are still others which a man is even afraid to tell himself, and every decent man has a considerable number of such things stored away. That is, one can even say that the more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in his mind.

Those are the things I write down. I write them down, 3rd person if need be, and those thoughts stay as they are, undisturbed,  bound to paper the very moment ink hits the page. As with this, for the times I find myself at a keyboard with a sudden burst inspiration, and I just let that drive my words.

Just reflect, it's good for the soul