An interview with an interesting fellow.

The first step - especially for young people with energy and drive and talent but not money- the first step to controlling your world is to control your culture to model and demonstrate the kind of world you demand to live in. To write the books. Make the Music
Shoot the films. Paint the art. - Chuck Palahniuk.
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So yesterday I found myself talking to a very interesting fellow, as you may have picked up from the title. A comrade that had me questioning, what the fuck am I doing with my life? I mean I ask myself that question every morning, but after our talk the question just resounded even louder in me.

Here's how the story goes. When I normally go through the motions of getting to know a person I usually go through their favorite movies, bands, hobbies, etc. y'know to start the basis of small talk and stuff. I mean who doesn't? But this fellow claimed to rarely watch movies, listen to bands, and responded with "just living out " as his hobby. And after this, I was left in an awkward lurch. I mean movies and music = life, or so my facebook profile would say if I took the time to fill it out. He asked me what I did, I responded with the norm; going to concerts, watching movies, playing video games, going to art galleries. He really couldn't relate. This conversation was looking like the titanic, post iceberg, pre-rose-taking-up-the-whole-door-leading-to-dicaprio's-death, just a big shit fest with no happy ending in sight. I pose the question I made before hand again, but in more consise terms: "so what the fuck do you do with your time if you can't relate?"

In the most polite and genuine of ways, like only a true douche can respond, he explained that he enjoyed making music, movies, writing, and just being in the act of creating. He went on further on and explained that his big goal in life is to change the world for the better. And there and then I knew, I hated him. I mean, who did he think he was? ShaQ? I left him pretty much in disgust and longed for a good movie, to wash away the the naive optimistic thoughts of a young lad. Got home, fell asleep, and woke up wondering, when did I become so cynical? When did a little optomism give me the urge to scratch my eyeballs out? When did I stop 'doing things' and become a spectator? Is anyone still going on our blog?

So all those question led me here, posting something that really belongs in a diary or something, but no self respecting piece of paper would go for it. It would be a total waste of a tree.

Excuse me as I veg out and forget about this revelation of sorts,
Steph