Who are we? We are what society wants us to be. We blame it on our childhood or we say that we pulled our shit together and made something of our lives. Everyone does it, even silver spoon babies will say they had it hard. Everyone has it hard, not enough money, no love, no structure, single parent, and orphan, whatever. All people have had hardships. Stop fucking crying, no one cares. No one is special. We are all products of lust, love, rape, anything we are a product of it. Call it what you want, its all bullshit. Why should I give a shit about someone who claims their life was fucked up because their mommy didn’t tit feed them. Or boo fucking hoo daddy play grab ass with you. It sucks, life its shit, but pick up the fucking cards your were dealt and play them. Don’t bitch out, don’t fucking fold, raise the stakes, push what you’re worth all fucking in.

“Our lives are trading cards. We start young as rookies and schools bid for us. We send out mini résumés about ourselves. Trying to get schools interested in us. It’s like the draft we put our best foot forward and then the schools decide who is best for their program. So the school picks and holds your card until its time to trade. Its starts young and never stops. High school, college, companies, and the list grows the older you get.” By. Me.

It’s strange isn’t it? Our whole lives we strive to be perfect, don’t we? But what is perfection, can anyone really define it? Is it a tone body, a six figure income, or a house with a white picket fence? No, that’s not it me. Perfection is different from person to person. Each life is a blank page its up to you what your page contains. Is your life, your page, fiction a string of lies? Is it drama, stories of jealousy and envy? What makes you tick? What defines you? Who are we? Is the person you see in the mirror really who you are? Or, is that face just an empty shell? Is that face what everyone wants to see? Are you acting, are you being what everyone wants? Have you lost who you really are? Think about that, next time you look in the mirror. Look at yourself and ask yourself one question, “Am I who I am”?

Dear Journal & Audience:

I can feel my impending end nearing. I am short of breath, tired, and unable to use my hind legs. Further, I am being constantly tossed into the air by humanoids.

I thought I would share some recent memories with you.

Here is me crawling. My hair is disappearing fast and I am afraid I am becoming unattractive.

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ingratiate – v. to try to win somebody’s favor by pleasing him or her, especially in order to gain an advantage

Wow, a lot to be thankful for this season; the interstates are clogged the and the shopping center parking lots are more dangerous than most full contact sports. Bad enough that most of these people are in a hurry, on a cellphone, eating, inserting dvds, or all of the above for that matter; some of them are probably also too old to be driving.
Due to the imminent onslaught that is going to come full swing with the aging baby boomer generation, I am particularly thankful that most old people still drive buicks and crown vic’s. I think it should stay that way. As big as of a weapon that these vehicles can be, and as many times as i mistake them for a cop, they are oftentimes the innocent driver’s only indication that danger lurks in front of you.

I think defensive driving is a skill which we will need to take to a new level if we are going to survive as a species into the near future.

Seeing as I’m a nearby resident of the wonderful city of Washington DC, I thought I would do a nice informal edition dedicated to America’s capital. Though a wonderful city from bars and clubs to museums and sight-seeing, the city has been in run into the ground by local officials for decades. As a fathers friend once said to me (who had been involved all over the world with the State Department and USAID — including numerous Middle East and African governments), “the District has the most corrupt government I have ever seen.” And with that intro, I bring you a special edition to my city.

No bid contracts, favoritism passed down from government officials. All pretty routine in DC, and now a few years later, everyone acknowledges the problem after the fact. If you pay taxes in DC, you may as well dump off a large bag of money on Marion Barry’s front yard.