I try to remember details of events to prove to my memory that the moment really happened. I mean honestly, what's the point of solely going through the motions and just surviving. I try to live on purpose, and for a purpose. Although, some days are harder than other to find that purpose, as it may be buried beneath layers of distraction and deception. Sometimes it seems that finding my purpose is my purpose, always searching through my passions, trying to uncover my real self. I hate when all the attention is on me, I hate being a guest to things I'm not familiar with, I hate talking to people, even ones I know. I never have anything new or interesting to say and I just don't say anything if I've nothing intelligent or meaningful to say. I hate it when people just ramble because they just enjoy the sound of their own voice. I hate bad drivers. You know, those really impatient ones that are always in a hurry, don't use their turn signals and are never looking where they are going (while drinking their mocha-ccino latte and talking on their cell phone). Yellow is my favorite color. I have no conscious reasoning for this one, however I've come to identify a few hit-or-miss theories. The color of my house growing up was yellow-- a possible subconscious connection to all things safe and normal. My blankie as a child was yellow - a potential sign of comfort and security. Also, yellow is the universal color of caution. I thrive on uncertainty, and try to live my life on whims whenever possible. Oh, and I love photography .
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