July 2, 2005

"Looking? You mean catching. No, I haven't caught anything yet."

I didn't belong on that pier. I don't like the slime of fish, nor the taste of salt. I can't stomach hours tying tedious knots, lit by sodium lights, my hands numb and bleeding from the wire traps and raw ropes. I'm not one to spend half a chicken to catch a few crabs. So, I put my face to the breeze and inhaled the adventures collected by the centuries, carried by the wind. And I wondered: if not here, then where? Where do I belong?

Who am I?
Who will I be?
What will I do?
What are my talents?
Where will I go?
Where am I needed? Wanted?
Why will I at all?
Who will I know?
What way will I dress?
Why will I care?
What if aliens invaded?
What would I do?
Would I survive?
Would I be devestated? Or excited?
What if I won Lotto?
Would I be the same?
Would I use the money to stay in school?
Or would $11M be an excuse to drop out?


What will I dream of in twenty years? Will my dreams be the same as I dream tonight? Is that a travesty -- or is that humanity?

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