Whatever pt. 9

So I sit here in front of this computer, sitting in the dark, excluding the soft glow of the screen in front of. I hear Tom York speak of God and whatnot in the background. I never really thought I would do this, but I guess once you hit the ripe old age of 25 and realize that you are yet to have obtained a degree, gotten a “real” job, or really accepted any responsibility whatsoever . . . Things just kinda start to come out. So here it is . . . I’m 25. I’m half white, half Mexican. Well, I’m not really half and half. I’m actually approximately a third French, around a third Mexican, which is mostly Mestizo, (Spanish and Mexican Indian) about a fourth Irish and German, and I think there’s even some Scottish, Welsh, and Belgian in there . . . I don’t know, my Dad’s a mutt . . . But for all intents and purposes, I’m a half bred. You know, it’s incredibly interesting growing up in this state of consciousness, since I was raise in Northside until I was about 7, then I was whisked off like some damsel in distress, and placed promptly in the middle of the suburbs. So, essentially, while all my previous friends were playing with guns and joining gangs, I was learning the joy that is Super Target, and wondering why there were so many minivans all over the place. Needless to say, it was quite the intellectual alteration. My mindset was abruptly distorted, but it was okay, cause I was now going to “good schools.”

Have you ever tried so hard to find the intricacies in life that others seemingly avoid that you miss the obvious ones right in front of your face? I find myself always looking for the little things and taking pleasure in finding things about art and life and anything for that matter that other people miss . . . My only problem is that I lose sight of the big picture in hopes to perfect the small one. I wish I could just step out of my life an look at everything I am doing completely objectively . . . I think I’m a hell of a director, but as far as acting goes, I’m incredibly unsure. If I could only direct my life, and not have to star in it, I’d be set. It’s kinda like those infamous timeouts you would take as a kid. It never mattered what you were doing, you could take a timeout, and reevaluated the situation . . .I need a timeout so bad right now . . .

I’m scared to death of not leaving a legacy. For most people, it’s children. For others it wealth . . . . For me . . . It’s knowledge. I want to make people think about things they have never thought about before . . . I want people to see my work and not be able to sleep at night, or sleep better than they ever have in their lives, and they could both have seen the same thing.

Then you sit back and you read the shit that vomitted one day, and feel like the most egotistical fuck that you know. I want to make people think? What the fuck does that do? Thinking is over rated, and rarely accomplishies anything.