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Smith pulled into the dinner. It was a cold July night, and it seemed the night was only going to get colder. Smith had just gotten the news that he was no longer a member of the working class. He had nothing to lose and this was just the place for him, because it had nothing to offer.

Smith entered the dinner and took the closet seat to the door which happened to be a stool at the counter. The waitress asked what he would like to have. Smith ask what the specials where. The other people in the dinner consisted of three old men in a corner playing cards, a young couple who seemed to be lost in each others eyes, and lastly another man on the stool next to his. Smith was trying to get up the nerve to pull the gun, but couldn't seem to do it. His food came and he deiced to do it after the meal. Why not get something to eat first?

As he ate he watched the people around him and wondered how there lives differed from his. The old men playing cards where joking and laughing, drinking coffee and slipping in a little something when the waitress wasn't looking making it a little Irish. They seemed to be very at ease and even called the waitress by her name. Must live close by and be regulars. The couple was in love as all young people seem to be known days. He remembered those days, he had problems then too but he couldn't remember any of them now. What more could be said about the couple they noticed nothing but each other. The dinner could come crashing down around them and they would still be simply looking into each others eyes discovering wonders that only lovers know. The man, well the man was interesting. He seemed to be on edge. He was wearing the same tattered clothes as smith himself. He stared only at his food as he shoved it into his mouth, looking around from time to time to see if anyone was going to take it from him.

Things writen on my hands.

Be specific in our prayers
what I want to be, passionate, have stronger convictions, live strong,
pride is really just being stubborn
the Holy Ghost is drilling a hole in me.
We flip the trigger that refills our heart
write down prayers
how do we know if it is from us or from the lord.
Write wob (don't know what wob stand for)

I have read a book recently. This book was a true story about 47 ronin (samurai without a lord) that lost their lord and did want was needed to get revenge for him. It feed that fire within me, but was only a good start to a flame. I went to a fire side tonight that tossed gas upon it. There goes both good and bad with this. The good is that I get a glimpse of what I want to feel like all the time. I get new resolves and new goals. I notice what I am lacking in and figure out ways to fix them. The bad however is that I don't have enough wood to keep that kind of flame going, yet. So it burns strong and bright, but only for a little while. I must build up to that point where that feeling will never leave me. For the first time in a long time I want to change myself dramatically. I have fallen far back into my laziness and it is a hard pit to climb out of. As I read about the ronin in my book I thought about how much feelings and conviction they had. I have something greater then them and yet I am not even worthy to hold a light to them. There is no virtue, no commandment that I hold to as they did theirs. They would die rather then be dishonored and the things that would dishonor them are many, whether one was dishonored or not was mostly on a personal scale. The samurai that was truly noble could only seem to dishonor himself. Looking at myself, I have little to no honor, but I will get it. I am still young and have sometime left to regain my honor and do great things with it. As a member of the Caucasian race I was never really aloud a culture. I thought it unfitting to say that I am glad to be this or that cause people would turn it into "My Glad to be white, because I'm racist". Well I'm not racist, more so then most people. I am over joyed to be a Whetten and I want to bring honor to that name. People today don't really seem to feel this way, at least not Americans. They rather bring fame to their high school or club rather then to their family name. Well I come from great parents and great grandparents. I have strong Whetten blood that flows in my veins. I understand that now and wish to never do anything to bring shame to that name. No, I do more then wish I work for it.

Cotton Candy

I want some cotton candy and will reward handsomely anyone that can connect me with some.

Random Idealness

Thinking allot recently about many different things. I think I cling to the sad and depressing things because I find more emotion in them. Not just in myself but others. People seem to be more human, more vulnerable, more real, when the worst things happen to them. When people are lost and hurt looking for shelter or relief. It builds a common quality in man that can't really be found else where. Sure the happier moments are blissful and great, but they also breed laziness and greed. At least they seem to in me. I want to stay in that bliss and start to forget the rest of the world. I always lose those feelings that I seem I want to hold onto the most. Time erodes my emotions quicker than anything else. I read a book about the horrible things going on wanting to change the world, and the next moment I'm wondering what the white stuff is in my snickers. I wonder what will break this new one, but what I really want to know is how to keep it.

Simple Plan - Untitled

Click on the video untitled. I really like it but I give a word warning. It is not up beat, but I find these things the oddly inspiring.
http://launch.yahoo.com/ar-290865---Simple-Plan

A movie script life

I have for the better part of my life I have lived it like a movie. Most of my jokes are for the viewing audience not so much for first or second parties. I walk and react the way I think the hero in my own movie should. I have recently discovered a major issue with this. A movie is only two hours most of the time. The characters in it really only have time for one major conflict, and yet there are movies that this one issue spans most of their life. I was recently thinking while watching one such movie. Why did it take you so long to lean this one thing? Like 5 people had to die for him to get this one answer. Also most have this one driving force that pushes them further then all the rest, a goal, a girl, a dream, a moral, duty, ethics, honor, or a million other things. I don't have one thing like that which drives me. I have tried to get one to be stronger then the rest but that only made the others weaker. I have many people and beliefs that are close to me and only the combination of these things makes me who I am, I strife for a better tomorrow for these people and values. I will still live my life like a movie for now, but much different then the trivial movie.

The second Sin

Recently I have come to realize some of the true darkness of the world around me. While talking with friends and family I was shock to hear some terrible things. People I know and love have had some horrible, horrible things done to them, things that brought me to tears and anger to my fists. I am a pacifist, but this is the only thing that I still consider ok to be violent on. I felt so lost, not knowing what to do to help these wonderful girls. I have had such an easy, good life, and what am I doing with all my blessings, but getting fat of the land. To make matters worst I recently made a new friend in one of the worst possible ways. I don't even know this girl and she has confined in me things that no one else knows. What has happened to the men of our society? I feel like the only sane good one. I always liked to be different, but not at this, not at this. Why must such evil be aloud to go unnoticed? Sure people say that it's a sign of the times, or they put themselves in the wrong situation, when really I seem to only here these things from men. I have such hatred for males now that it's blinding, so much pain in so many areas, so many broken hearts and souls in need of mending. I need help on this one. This is way over my head. I must save them all and I well do everything I can for them, everything.

"Say Tom..."

tom sat at his desk writing (if you could call it that.) He could have writing better poetry by tossing ink at the wall. tom sat there everyday at noon and wrote for 3 hours. When someone would ask him what he was doing he would reply "dying...but on paper". Someone would always come along to ask him this, most of the time it was smith, tom's really only friend. Smith for all anyone could tell had no first name. Everyone called him smith because it was a common last name and seemed to suit him, and by everyone I mean tom. Smith never corrected anyone, by anyone I mean tom. Just went with it. Smith was an avid drinker and smoker. This came about mostly cause he was always running about setting things on fire, it was his favorite past time. AS one would think being around all those fires can make one thirsty, he only drank water if any. The smoking came about mostly because he didn't have steady hands. He would find something he liked (or someone he didn't like, by someone I mean tom) and he would get so excited that he would always take to long with the match and it would burn him. Thus causing him to drop it and set his cloths a blaze.

This day was a special day but no one really knew why, and by no one I mean tom. Smith had just walked into the room with a box of matches and tom still sitting at his desk.
"hey tom whatcha doing?" said smith as he lit a match and started to walk over to tom.
"Dying...but on paper."
Smith had burned himself again but managed to doge the falling flame.
"Oh not done with that yet hun...what about...now." smiths pauses where mostly cause he was trying hard to figure what end to light again.
"dying....but on paper."
"oh I get it red fire, you think I would have gotten that earlier." smith said excitingly, overly excitedly to see if tom would join in. Tom paused for a moments thought and responded.
"Smith I really have no idea what you’re talking about."
"you know tom I don't think I do either." Said smith as he lit another and ran towards tom.
"That's never going to work smith. The running puts out the match and walking takes to long so you end up lighting yourself on fire."
Because you see, smith had to light matches in a door way. It was the only place he really felt was safe to start fires. For the most part this had never been a problem for smith, except when he wanted to light anybody on fire, and by anybody I mean tom.
"say tom can you come over to the door? I really can't reach you over there."
"hold on"
"say tom... what you doing?" smith had given up for the moment and was looking over tom's should.
"dying ...but on paper."
"you almost done with that yet, I mean I've never been able to set fire to you. You really should try it tom. It's something you can't image."
"I think I can smith. I see you do it plenty of times. first you walk around thinking everything’s fine-"
"That's the hard part."
"then you look shocked and bewildered-"
"That's...I don't remember that part really."
"then you run about as the flames chase after you, but you can't out run them cause it's your cloths that are really on fire-
"That's the fun part really."
"Then you roll around on the floor screaming, wishing for any thing to stop the pain even death, and I wishing to fulfill that wish."
"....ok well that part sucks, but really it's not as bad as I make it sound, and by "I" I mean you...unless by sound I mean look. In which cause the I should be an I, but that's just because I'm not very good at it yet."
Tom stood up and closed the book. He walked over and tossed it on a pile of burring curtains that smith had already set on fire.
"what did you do that for tom, I thought everyone was going to read your book, and by everyone I mean you tom."
"I finished it; I wasn't sure what next to do with it."
"well, well, what shall we do now.”?
"I think I going to-"
"Say Tom...

To-"Night"

He took the broom in hand and walked to the front of the store. Slowly he stared to clean the mess that was created during the day. Back and forth he moved the broom humming a little tune to him self; His thoughts where upon almost everything other then the movement of the broom. At this moment he was thinking back to the time when he was twelve. He had snuck out of the house to go play in the snow. It never snowed where he was from. He never got to the snow however. A tree and fallen over and landed on a truck. He just stood in his door way watching the little flecks pile up on everything. He stared at the odd scene of that truck crush by a tree. It was beautiful he thought. He looked around him now, about half way done. He tried hard now to think about what happen next, where he went from that snowy door way. What was his next step? Was it outside? Was it inside? Now even the memories he did have started to fade. He couldn't remember now if he was cold or not. Anything that would give him information to what his next course of action was. This thought carried him till he was finished sweeping the store, which broke way to a new thought. Would this moment cause the same confusion in the future as he looks back on it? No, this moment was not beautiful.

Hearsay of fools

Do not listen to people expounding on thing you wish not to hear.
If you are not sure of your emotions do not let others tell you what your emotions are.
This path leads no where you would want to go.

Awaking from a slumber

I wake from my dream slowly, reentering the maelstrom that is reality. As I step away from the dream I lean towards resenting it cause of the chaos that happened while I slept pleasantly. So much lost, so much gained. Painful lessons of a pleasant past. I can see how the world can slip away as one is in a nation of two, but I never want that to happen. I need to be there for people, I need to work and sweat for that better tomorrow, that is the only way I find happiness. It is very greedy I know, cause I work for myself by means of others. Men suck and I have lost most if not all respect for them. Being a pacifist is hard when you wish to snap necks like a twig. My father always told me to love the sinner but hate the sin. It's hard to do when you know that the sin affects others then the sinner. I think being God would suck a lot at some points. Having to watch all the things people do, knowing how to help and not always being able to. To know one is going to fall and be able to do nothing but watch. At least in my position I can believe in them till the end and hope that they do the right thing. I know not how to go about what needs to be done. this is new ground for me. a horse, a horse my kingdom for a horse. I feel the same about a simple phrase and those I care about.

Another day another dollor, another year another yearning

So according to a little piece of paper, that the state requires for almost everything, I have been around the sun some 22 times. The world seems to have changed form what I remember, but really I think it's just cause I'm taller and more prone to see things from a distance. I am coming out of the coma I placed my self in these past few moths. Or at least I awake form one dream state to another. My B-day was as much as I thought it would be. Nothing great nothing bad, just another day really. I hate feeling out resumes and writing letters about myself, cause I feel you have to boost about yourself, and while I boost about myself a lot I can't seem to due it where other people require it. I may be prideful, but can't seem to be prideful on command. I have come to realize how little the people know me around here, what am ice berg I have come to be. I suck in conversations and never know how to bring up topics of my interest. I want to talk about the world, I want to change things make a difference. Talk about how I may be a socialist, but to afraid to look...or to lazy. I don't think I am cause I believe people should be free to govern themselves, but I like allot of the ideas that I have heard that seem to also be connected to socialist people. I crave intellectual outlets. I crave a job where I make a difference, instead I get paid to sit and do homework and feel nothing but like a leech for my efforts. What happen to earning my keep, getting my bread by the sweat of my brow. I am a best of burden not much to thinking and never found much joy in doing it on my own. The seeker of knowledge is the seeker of sorrow. Maybe I'm a Marxist cause I believe I find my greatest joy in my labors, I may just be alienated from my product. No, Marxism is not for me.... I can't be a republican or demarcate cause they both believe things that I am highly against. I think I will start to call myself a consencatist. Don't ask me to many questions about cause I don't really know what it is and making it up may cause me to be in trouble with the lord. But I strive to follow Christ and his rule. Pooh upon everything else. aahhh that feels better, well good day to you all.