why write?

Ha. Anonymous notes are funny. Writing on here is funny. Blaring an iPod your entire life is funny.

I want desperately to find meaning. Do I want to spend my life trying to convince people learning history is important? Do you get to a point where it becomes automatic? Do you end up on a familiar autopilot expecting failure and immune to “success”?

Hunter S. Thompson blew his brains out before he could wallow in his own shit. What exactly are we living for?

Why am I writing any of this?

I’m not happy with sitting in traffic to teach computers anymore. Teaching them was fun tonight. But something feels wrong. I haven’t broken away yet and it gnaws away at me.

Yet I got the “Summer School” sign up sheet and I’m considering it! My one time to explore!