nihilist theories, transcendentalist thoughts, and a bit of lack of emotion

hello, hello, world. I have decided that I will break the convention of today’s society and not capitalize anything—anything except for those god-forsaken I’s that autocorrect themselves on this audaciously austere computer. (how dare you, computer. no.)

I have returned from my quest against life and happiness and I have neither, I assure you, and I am somewhat well and alive. somewhat.

nevertheless I have enough strength to write a few words (few, hah) on my blog after the longest hiatus on the face of hiatus-universe.

I’ve gone through a lot, I’m still going through a lot, and I will continue to go through a lot (is the gist of what I’m getting from life right now). it’s not really going to get any better, it seems, but hey, that’s life, and I’ve got to take it in—somehow.

 

well. here I am.

 

okay, for nihilist theories and transcendentalist thoughts.

first of all I’ve been thinking (though then again, when have I not been thinking) about life and society and things like that. I’ve been, to say the least, feeling very lost lately. lost in life, lost in society, lost in myself. I’ve been creating an abyss for myself (which I fondly call my own grave) by drowning in my own analyzations (I don’t care if that’s not a word) of myself and people around me. I’m a bit of an idealist and an analyst when it comes to things. so reality doesn’t really work out well for me.

anyhow. that’s not the point. the point is that I’ve come across a very, very important point about life.

it’s that there is none.

(gasp.)

there is no meaning to life, god forbid.

there is. no. meaning. to. life.

call me negative, call me a nihilist, an anarchist, a communist, whatever you want. but there really is no meaning to life. there is no one goal in life. there is no one answer that we will all someday come across and gasp and reach for our foreheads and say, “oooooooh” like it was an answer you had known all along anyways.

no.

(this was my search to un-lost myself. because I was feeling terribly lost, you know? so I tried to un-lost myself. (there is a difference between un-lost and un-lose so deal with it.))

(to me there is.)

the reason so many people feel “lost” in life; so many people feel like there needs to be an answer; like there is something waiting for them out there—a destination, a place. a finish line--

the reason so many people feel lost is because they are searching for an answer that doesn’t exist. they are searching for the finish line that they’ll never reach. they’re searching for a destination that is neither near nor real. they are searching for nothing, and in consequence, they feel an utter sense of loss and confusion in this blind search for nothingness.

let me put it clearly:

people sometimes say that life is a race. some people say that life is a journey. no, no, nonononono. life is a field. it’s a plain old freaking field (I’m sorry, I rarely use such lowly words as “freaking” to describe things, but I felt it very necessary to describe the utter vulgarness and repulsiveness of the reality) with nothing in it. you’re standing in it. or maybe you’re sitting. but it doesn’t matter. because it’s a. freaking. field.

you can get up and go somewhere if you want. you can choose your own destination and get there. you can sit down and do nothing the rest of your life. you can make something out of it or you can not make something out of it. but that’s your choice. it’s not some journey. it’s not some race. it’s a field. it’s a freaking field.

and you’re standing in it, searching for a light switch that isn’t there. sorry, bud, there’s no light switch to turn the lights on. you’re in the dark forever.

(as you can see I am not in the healthiest of mental states.)

 

…now, if that was a bit overwhelming. now for the lack of emotion.

well, I’ve been thinking (again, when am I not)—or rather, analyzing (again, when am I not) myself. and I’ve noticed that I have quite noticeably lost a lot of emotion over the past few months. whatever it is that instigated this I have no idea, but I definitely have a sudden decrease in sympathy and an increase in apathy when it comes to reading literature or watching movies. sad ones, I mean.

I mean, I was watching that one episode of BBC’s Sherlock where—fine, I won’t say. but it was sad, heartbreaking, and moving, and all I did was say “oh, well that happened. okay.” and you know what? not a single tear.

my friend apparently cried for hours after watching this.

I felt a little weird.

then comes the fault in our stars, the modern tear-inducing tragedy of our internet-obsessive, narcissistic generation.

nothing!

nothing at all.

not a single tear.

I swear to you, I was trying to cry. god forbid—I was trying to cry!

but you know what, I just observed the losses, took note of the tragedy, and shed no tear.

(to be honest I wasn’t even sure when I was supposed to be crying.)

is this bad?

 

I have no idea.

I think I’m losing my sense of sympathy.

(but then again, I sympathize literally everyone around me. or rather, pity. these days I’ve been noticing the struggles of everybody around me, which has gotten me deeper into myself and instigated my never-ending thoughts about life and how “beautifully flawed” it is.)

(sighs.)

 

good bye, and I hope you have a mental state saner than mine.

Lunchables

I used to envy the kids in my school who brought Lunchables to lunch.

 

In case you don’t know what Lunchables are, here’s a nice picture:

 

 

They’re pre-made, fake lunches that they sell cheap at stores like Shop Rite or Target (our local Target has a mini-grocery store inside of it). It’s basically the epitome of unhealthy lunching, and when you’re young, unhealthy=awesome.

I envied my friends and the other kids who would bring Lunchables to lunch. It was just so—cool! That you could bring your lunch in that pre-made, bought, cardboard box, and show the entire world that you have a piece of candy for an aftersnack. Oh, how I envied them. It was first or second grade.

I remember asking my mom if she could buy it for me, whenever we passed that aisle at the market. She’d shoo it away like it was some inferior piece of artificial food. (Which it was, but at the time, I was not aware of it. It was a piece of unattainable heaven to me.)

 

 

Now that I’m older, you know, at least five years older, I look back and I think about those kids who brought Lunchables to the lunch tables and had to eat them every day (or at least, nearly every day) for lunch. And I realize how sad it is.

Not sad as in the sarcastic, mean sort of ‘sad.’ I mean sad in the original way. Sad as in, it makes me teary. (Fine. Not teary. But you know what I mean. That kind of sad.)

 

To have your mother buy lunch for you—not just any lunch, but the cheap sort, I realize, wasn’t exactly the ‘unattainable heaven’ I once thought it was. I’m not trying to offend anybody with Lunchables—they’re still cool and everything, but it kind of signifies that you either can’t afford a healthy lunch every day (because, unfortunately, let’s face it—it’s not exactly recommended by the United States Department of Nutrition, you know) or that your mother doesn’t have the time/attention to make your lunch for you. I’m talking about first graders. Second graders.

At the time, I idolized those kids, having no idea what it really meant to bring a Lunchable to lunch and seeing your friends bring out foil-wrapped, ham and turkey sandwich with the homemade applesauce. I wasn’t living in the richest town when I saw my friends and peers (some of them) with Lunchables. And thinking back on it, it kind of signifies a lot of things in life. Some things we take for granted, some things we think too good of, and some things we don’t think of at all. Sometimes, we really do need to sit back and appreciate the things we have. Like parents who care for you. Or a somewhat stable financial position.

And this is regardless of the Lunchables thing. It might sound cliché (in fact, it does, I admit it), but we need a time to give thanks other than Thanksgiving. Because Thanksgiving is, like, Costco’s party day or something. Thanksgiving where we don’t scramble and stress and complain about getting turkeys and making millions of dollars worth of food that some kids at the other side of the world are dying because of the lack of it. I’m talking about a sort of thanksgiving when we sit down, we eat a normal dinner, and then we think about why we’re here, how blessed we are to be here in the first place (and not the other sperm of your father or a different egg of your mother—that’s some intense competition, you know. We’re the chosen ones), and just let it all sink in. The food in front of you. Bam. Gone.

 

The roof above you.

Bam. Gone.

 

The nice, warm, thick clothes you have.

Bam. Gone. (Except for rags. Let’s keep you clothed.)

 

Your smiling parents. (or ranting. But either way they love you deep inside.)

Bam. Gone. (Or on drugs or something.)

 

Your loving brother who pulls your hair out.

Bam. Gone.

 

The nice weather.

Bam. Gone.

 

There you are, sitting in a hot, dry, arid place with no food, no family, and a few pieces of cloth as garments. There are people like that still living on the same Earth that we’re standing on, stomping on, complaining about the slowness of our computers or the suckiness of our school. And while it might be too much to ask everybody to stop (because, let’s face it, I complain, too), we should at least acknowledge and appreciate the things that are always there for us.

 

Like that street light that stays red and won’t turn green on that street in our town.

 

Because there are always people who are worse off than us. (The fact that you’re reading this means that you have a computer, so this is probably mostly true.)

And if not, then think about the other sperm cell that could have fertilized your mother’s egg. Think about how close that was. You almost died before you were born.

(Sorry I was studying Biology.)

(Sorry not sorry.)

 

So yeah. Through that reminiscent memory of Lunchables, I have just given you a rant, a lecture, about thankfulness.

Chew on that.

Bug Season: Get Prepared.

Brace yourselves. It's the all-famous, well known, infamous Bug Season slowly approaching us.

Scratch that.

Slowly crawling towards us. Slowly using-their-hundred-legs-to-scramble towards us.

Summer is the season of bugs. It is the Season of Bugs. I am serious right now. I hope a lot of people think the same (because if not, that means there's something seriously wrong with our house and me).

In the summer, bugs dominate. They grow three inches. They find their armies. They gather their artillery and men bugs. They go to the armory to stock up on new ammo. They train hardcore for a few weeks. Then they're ready. They're armed.

First, it's the flies.
The flies attack first. They're the front-line soldiers. They buzz into the homes, slowly but quickly (I know. Just go with the flow.), secretly slipping into your home beyond your knowledge until you hear that weird buzzing near your window and see one of them (finally cracked under the military pressure) spazzing out at the window, hopelessly reaching for the sun.

They land everywhere, rubbing their hands and pleading for mercy while you (shaking) threateningly hold a newspaper up to think: to slap or not to slap?


Then, it's the mosquitoes.
They're the night-shifts. They're more powerful at night, when people are unsuspecting, vulnerable, and fleshy. They silently lurk nearby and then dive right into your skin. They might carry Plasmodium, which are their special biological weapons that they have genetically engineered to make us malaric. (Did you forget? With the flow.)
They make sure that they leave you injured in at least three places. They leave you sore, itching, and irritated. Their little signature is that familiar red bump that whispers: "Scratch me. Scratch me."


The worst are the ants.
The ants are the invaders. They're the tiny little invaders that you don't realize they're there until it's too late. With their massive number and invisible vessels, you'll never know where they're docking at or, for that matter, where they came from. They're there, and they dominate. They're not even that strong, either. It's just that there's too many of them.
They outnumber us.
(Hah. By a lot. Four versus practically five hundred)
Once one of them gets into your house, it's the end of the world. (Please don't take this seriously.)

You need to evacuate the house and immediately contact the FBI. They might be planting bugs into your house to listen in on top secret conversations (like what you did at school today. That's code red intrusion--nobody should know what you did at school today.). Or even worse, they might be getting ready to put in a bomb.

And then, the real bombs of their army--the centipedes. The centipedes are their last resort, the solitary soldier that has a massive amount of power, strength, and fear-inducing looks. Their numerous limbs makes them nimble and quick in their ruthless trampling of the house. One centipede passing by is an equivalent to a level 5 hurricane. They leave houses annihilated, trees dismantled, and lives lost. The name itself gives shudders and shoots fear into the hearts of even the best of us, and they do not stop at any point. Their roar is fiercer than a lion, mightier than a bear. It is so loud that it may permanently damage our hearing. Thee deep voiced grumble that rolls into a loud and barbaric roar is perhaps the only warning before they begin their mission. Their only motive is trample. TRAMPLE AND ROAR! Anything that dares to get in its way, under its humongous, heavy feet are doomed to die the most terrible death.
(Don't even get me started on the millipedes.)


So here is my inspirational speech to my fellow Homo sapiens:

We, humans, are an indestructible race. We are one tight knit people (who throw bombs at each other) and love each other ever so dearly (so dearly that we throw bombs at each other). We are united as one people (that is cut up into hundreds of countries constantly bickering) and we can. We can. Defeat these puny bugs! (Don't forget the puny millipedes, guys.) They invade? We do not hinder. Fear does not stop us. It strengthens us. Together, humans. Together. We shall defeat the merciless bugs. We shall live! We shall prosper! We shall taste victory!


P.S. I think I have formed a theory as to why we are often afraid of bugs. (Not all of us, but a great bunch.)
It's because of their blatant invasiveness. Their obvliousness of our power. We are at the top of the food chain, and anything that is above us scares us (naturally). But what scares us even more is when we cannot control those under us. Bugs are one instance. They are under us in the food chain, but we cannot control them from entering our houses, invading our homes, and buzzing around in our house. They are ubiquitous. Everywhere. And we can't do anything about it, which drives us crazy. It scares the wits out of us, because we thought we were 'better' than them, that we could kill them (as predators) and naturally 'control' them. But we can't.
I dunno. A guess.

Another Sudden Realization

Whatever I don’t post often, so maybe three posts in on day will make up for the six months I will spend agonizing in school.

But anyhow.

(Is it six months?)

(Whatever.)

 

Anyhow, I had another sudden realization.

(I’m having lots of sudden realizations today.)

 

Everyone here is alive. Let’s assume that. (Because there are some theories ahemahemahem that the “I” is the only one alive, and that everyone else is just actually a part of my imagination, or rather, life, that doesn’t really think for it/he/herself, but actually is acting on accord of making my life spin in a better way than it would if I were alone in the middle of a desert ahemahemAKAtheproptheoryahemahem.

Everyone you see has their own story. (Obviously, I’ve ‘Suddenly Realized’ this a while ago, when I was in the middle of a crowd and wondered what caused the person next to me to get here, and stuff, and then I was all like OMGOMGOMG SUDDEN REALIZATION but that’s not the point.) Whether it’s you in New York, trying to squish your way across the street, or you in school, everyone has a life outside of the perspective in which you perceive them in. Their life is much more than class. In fact, to them, class may be merely a minimal part of their life. Everyone has a living story, with a living heart, that is beating, all in sync to create, what is called a community.

(lol I’m making this up as I go along)

(That just ruined the whole ‘feeling of the moment,’ didn’t it.)

(If there was a ‘feeling of the moment,’ that is.)

Well,

DARMITILOSTIT.

DANGIT.

DANGIT.

Wait.

Lemme

Um.

ummmm

(this happens a lot)

Okay whatever, I’ll just force myself to continue (it might come back that way)

Yeah. So this community, is sort of where everyone’s story interconnects with each other, like pieces in a puzzle, or even more complicated than that. Because everyone’s story also exists, they also think like you do, you know—I think right now, and I have my own thoughts and opinions and history, I have my own story, and memories, and so does the person next to me, they also have their own thoughts and history and memory.

DANGITILOSTITAGAIN.

Um.

What?

Well, Everyone exists. Together.

That’s what makes life, I think.

I think that was what I was thinking—I kind of forget.

NO IT’S SLIPPING.

I think it’s because I’m typing my thoughts.

I’ll stop now.

(Five minutes later~)

Okay it’s not working I was staring off into the trees for five minutes and realized I was creating a metaphor/simile/comparison relating the lengths of people’s lives to a mosaic/Piet-Mondrian painting. On a simpler note, not trying to remember what I forgot six minutes ago.

Darn it.

Well anyhow I was trying to say that because we each have our own thoughts, and we all have a life and a past and a future, it’s that that brings us together and creates a meaning in our life—if one person was all alone on an island, them being born and dying would create no impact, no importance, and no what-anything. But it’s because other people are around us that people have a meaning in life, and a goal, and that seed of hope, it’s because there are other people with their own stories, who are around us. If there is a famous person who died for a noble deed—if they died along with the rest of the people he tried to save, there would be no meaning to his life—his life, his name, and his honour would die right along with his body. Nobody would be there to notice him, or notice his deeds. But because we have our own stories, we life in our past, our present, and our future, it’s because of that that life has a meaning—that we hope to give an impact on others, not just ourselves. Because what’s the point, if you’re alone, what’s the point of living? Really? What is there to do but live, eat, and die? It’s because there are other people who are and aren’t like you, who do and don’t like you, that a true meaning is brought to life within your existence.

 

WHEW I GOT THAT OUT. After a sentence the original thought came back. Whew~ Thank Goodness.

Well, now that I wrote it down somewhere (typed, in this case), I’ll be able to get back to it and make it sound much more fluent and make some sense. It’s actually a premature thought. I have to think more about it. Whew.

 

I’m kind of tired from all that thinking. I’ll do some thoughtless, mind-not-requiring things. :D Bye.

Kind of Sad

Well, I haven’t posted in a while.

(A while=two minutes)

SO I shall now.

Because I just thought of something while updating my bucket list.

(Added two more.)

(o.o I just forgot what I added. Must check.)

(Okay I did.)

 

So anyhow, have you ever thought about space? You know, out there, besides this nice and cozy earth? Earth. Where we live, where we create endless, intricate complications on our own somehow, and manage to create big-enough problems so it destroys ourselves, and then somehow scapegoat the problem onto something/one else and manage to get away with it by trying to fix the problem that initially, it was us, our species, who created it? How, if there was no intelligent life here, intelligent as in world-destructing sort of intelligence, our earth would be so peaceful and harmonious within the balances of nature, where nobody is throwing soda cans into the ocean? (Then again, there has to be one intelligent life that evolves—Imean, there will always be a ‘smartest’ animal, no matter what, because “smartest” is a comparative adjective, meaning, as soon as there is more than one of a subject, the comparative adjective is immediately usable, meaning the smartest species of animal will eventually evolve—it just so happened that we are the ‘smartest.’) Well, on any point (I think I’m getting off track), there’s a lot more out there than us, we’re just a puny little dot-of-a-planet that has its own major problems and advantages (which we’ve all sucked the goodness out of…), wars and arguments, thoughts and temptations.

Yes, I forgot what I was going to say, and I realize it’s going in the complete opposite direction from where I initially intended to go.

Soanyhow what I was going to say was, we only read about outer space in books, only read about that feeling of zero-gravity in books, only stare laser holes through the adjectives and verbs and nouns printed neatly onto pieces of paper bound together with a cardboard cover reading “Insert Title About Astronomy and Astronauts Here.” We can never, ever, feel that sensation for ourselves, experience the wonder and excitement in finding a new world, a new place to be, a place that is different than what we call normal. We will always be stuck to the ground, unwittingly being pulled closer to ground-level, never able to float or feel free, because, unfortunately, the Great Being who supposedly created All That Exists did not supply us with wings or any sort of aerodynamic body-part. (The closest to that is the brain, because at least it MAKES things, like airplanes.)

It’s kind of sad, don’t you think? That we’ll always have to live in one world. One life. One chance. And the closest to another world, at the moment, is outer space—to feel, like Ender did in Ender’s Game (by O.S.Card), or like the Great Neil Armstrong, who was one of the first to truly experience that free-floating feeling, or like the unnamed intelligent life species out there, umpteen thousand, million, trillion miles away. (Or maybe aliens have their own gravity, too.)

Sometimes, I get sudden urges to wish for things. I’m, whacha say, easily inspired? I mean, I don’t even know what inspired me at the moment, but at one point, I kind of wished I had the personality and future of an astronaut (of course, as a weak, physically inept introvert, the chances of me being an astronaut is as close as my brother over there (going piew piew with his Legos) will sprout wings and fly off into the sunset). Really, it kind of makes me sad that I’ll die never knowing that exciting, exhilarating feeling you get when you don’t have to stick to the ground anymore. When water droplets expand and keep its round, perfect shape, instead of falling down into a line of water, where crying makes you grow tear-bubbles instead of streaming down your face, and walking is given a whole new concept. It’s kind of sad that we’re only limited to earth.

 

Then again, it’s a lot to have, Earth is—(I’m not trying to sound like Yoda. .-.), especially us, because we have created diversity within our species, in a different way than variations do in animals—we have culture and heritage, and so, the closest I can get to ‘another world’ is either in another country/culture, or another book to stick my nose in.

Kind of sad that we have this whole thing with money that prevents us from truly enjoying, hey, I’m not trying to sound cliché, but, the fruits of life. Because really, who wants to die and tell God, or whoever is the Great Being, if there is Great Being for you, but anyhow—who wants to die, and tell whoever-it-is, that you died as you were born—born poor, died poor, not able to experience anything from outer space to Paris—just because of this thing we call money, that supposedly evolved into the center of our lifestyle.

But hey, if this is Rome, we act like Romans. Honestly, I don’t like that, because I’d like to trample the place screaming KOREA, but if I do, I’ll just be shunned into the corner and die anyway, so it’s rather I follow that idiom/phrase, because, whatever wisdom is, you’ve gotta follow it if you’re human and you want to survive.

Sad, isn’t it?

Good Times

Hey I just noticed that if you take out the ‘s’ then it becomes the song “Good Time” by Owl City and C. R. Jespen.

Anyhow, that’s not the point. Just yesterday, my cousins left America to go back to (insert country here). Let’s call it ‘X.’

They were here for three weeks, and it was the most fun three weeks of the summer. They are awesome people with funny personality and I really do miss them. I wonder why our family had to move to America and not stay in X. I wonder why it’s me whose family was in America, in a foreign land, rather than someone else. All of my other cousins and aunts and uncles (nine aunts) live in X. It kind of makes you feel lonely and isolated, don’t you think?

I mean, of course, being in America is really fun, and it has its advantages and stuff, especially if you want to succeed in life, blah blah. And yes, I have lots of friends and good memories here.

But most of my family is halfway across the world, in X. (Except for my aunt, who is a nun, and she lives in San Francisco, but she moves a lot, so I can’t really pinpoint the exact distance I live from my closest-living relative.) And most definitely, all of my cousins are in X. To what I hear, they see each other so often, (as my cousin Steve teases, “I’ve seen them so much, I’m almost sick of them~ XP”) and they can always go to their house within thirty to forty minutes.

Sometimes I wish my cousins, my first cousins, would move to America. (By first cousins I mean the children of my mom’s older sister. She has six sisters, so… yeah.)

It’s so much fun being with your family, even your cousins, because for some reason, whether it’s the second time meeting them or the first, you feel closer to them than you feel with friends at school, who you meet nearly every day. You feel like you’ve met those cousins yesterday, and the day before that, and that this isn’t a meeting once a year.

At least, that’s how I feel.

Looking around my house, I can remember just like yesterday when I was doing Algebra II problems, looking at the clock every five seconds, (meaning, technically, with the whole distraction, one could say I was looking at Algebra II problems), anxiously wondering what my cousins would say when they came to our house for the first time and took a look at America. I remember just like yesterday when they barged into the house, full with smiles and excitement, with their rolly bags and jackets, coming into the house to make sure they made lots of noise and memories. When they came into my room, and I still couldn’t believe they were inside my house, and that they were sitting on my bed, and asking me where the bathroom was, and that America’s so big, and why we can’t walk by ourselves to the park, and why we couldn’t go somewhere far by ourselves…

Just like yesterday when my cousins were sulking around the house, saying that the first day was going by way too slow, how is three weeks going to go by, and them unpacking the thousands of food from X, with yummy X crackers and candy as well as a pencil set for me. Just like yesterday when I felt kind of awkward with them.

And it was just like yesterday that I was freaking out that there was three days left, and H would glare at me (jokingly) and Andrew would flick my head and say “Let’s play a game” just like yesterday we were running in the grass trying to catch the frisbee in Frisbee Football, a game Alex played at his school, and was really fun—Just like yesterday I was telling them a fun card game and how we played it until two in the morning…

Just like yesterday.

And just like tomorrow, the time always comes, when we have to comment on how fast time flies, and how we’ll miss each other, and wave to each other until the other is out of sight, disappearing into the line of people holding their passports to go to another land…

 

And like tomorrow, the day will come when they’ll come again, and we’ll go to X too, and we’ll meet each other at least once a year, I hope. I hope that we won’t have to say that we’ve met our cousins only twice, that we know who they are and what their favorite food is, and what game they play 24/7, and what brand of clothing they like the most.

Looking around the house, they’ve left no trace that they were here, no trace at all, just like they weren’t here, almost. Except for the Nike tag they forgot to throw away, and the game that shows on the screen when I turn on my iPod, and a warmth in our hearts, hope that we’ll see them in just 365 days..

Mirror

There is no mirror in life. That is what makes me so sad.

People cannot see their own mistakes, like a mirror. They can only see others. There is no mirror in life.

It’s sad. Because there is a mirror for appearance, we find ourselves interested in appearance as well as our outerwear. What I wear, what I look like.

But do we often look at our personalities in the mirror? Maybe it is because there is no such mirror, that we do not do this often.

So often do people criticize others while, if they had looked in the mirror, they would probably realize that they are criticizing themselves as well.

Sometimes I think this.

Do I like myself?

And this is not that kind of question, where it is to measure your self esteem or that kind of crab.

I mean, if I was someone else, would I like me? So there were two of me, only I didn’t know the other me was me, would I like me? Would I?

I don’t know.

I don’t think so.

 

Well, if you wouldn’t, that probably means that (1) you need to start fixing yourself, and (2) you are a hypocrite.

I’d just like to drop in and say that.

Thoughtful

Life is a race. But it is not a race to where, but in fact, to what. It is that what that determines whether you are a winner, or you are not.
It does not matter where in the race you start, because it is not to where you go, but to what. So think about that what and remember. It is not to where. No rush. Time is. Time will never disappear.

Is this true?

 

Maybe.
Maybe.

 

{Look familiar? Was in this post: http://sugarsweetlemons.blogspot.com/2012/02/to-do.html}