[click click bang]

When the Y2K scare was all over the news, I feared for my life. I thought a giant robot would come out of the sky and doom us all to an analogue grave. My clock wouldn't work, my computer would eat my hand. Essentially, y2k meant that technology would break my life into little meaningless pieces. Thus, forcing me to pull out the colorful little abacus that my mom bought me way back when I was born probably. Worse case scenario? Long division. Long division and you could just forget about whatever future I thought I had.

Excuse me while I go roll my homie's mouse-y ball.

Now, in 2007, I sit here babysitting computers for my friends in the tech center so they won't log off after 15 minutes of inactivity.
15 minutes and if you haven't saved your work, that shit is gone. I know first hand, I had a whole study guide demolished yesterday after stopping for a brief chat.

BRBMMBRL

That stands for, be right back more mouse ball rolling.

Some people don't really believe that technology runs our lives. But how many times have I been assed out without cash? Technology and it's cute little magnetic strip has got me covered. I need a card for everything these days: transportation, money, logging into this soul-sucking tech center. You want to make a copy of something? Your ass better have a copy card.

So as I sit tuned into the melodic drone of the hundreds of machines around me, the glow of 0's and 1's illuminating my face, watching this guy directly parallel from me probably receive porn on his cell phone (defamation of character- I said it first), checking a new tab to see if gmail has updated from the 3 seconds I checked it before, and running in-between computers to make sure my friend's work is saved, I wonder: who's really in control?

TTYL.
-M.

There's a little bubble all of us are in.
It's only as wide and deep as we want it to be. The longer we stay inside, the more we dissect what we allow in. The more walls we build up.
The more fortification, the more comfort. But it's not real comfort. It's that I can't Believe It's Not Butter shit.
Well guess what
It's not butter. So what kind of idiot would believe it was?

I'm talking shit. It's the peach cosmo.

The day was unexpected. Now, at 3am, I can admit that it was unexpected because I've been caught up in the aforementioned butter bubble.
Feeling sorry for myself, wondering what my deal was. Holding myself up to other folks' microscopes and unfufilled with the findings.

I've been pysching myself into believing that I'm no good lately- no Amy Winehouse-o.

How can one keep goodness in? Keep goodness surrounding them? What is the secret to everyone elses smiles, and how come I see differently?
How come I always gotta be on some real shit. Do I not know how to like anything? Do I not know how to be happy? Am I setting myself up for self-sabatoge?

Most likely.

In the move to end such thinking, I've begun a search for goodness. All the goodness in the world. Colors, people, laughter.
Struggle isn't new to me anymore. It's something I must cope with. But if I want to do it right, I have to learn how to balance it with the beauty of life. Or else, I'll turn into a....turtle. Although I love turtles, and mine especially, I'd rather be a gazelle or giraffe, or flamingo.

Anyway,
Earlier in the day I did a show @ a block party. I need more feel good music. It has been decided. There are people in the world who appreciate my ability to be didactic. But if you were at a resturant and someone offeted you a choice in-between think and feel good....he average person is thinking of feeling good. Decision made.

Also, I'm scared to move. I don't know what my problem is. I used to perform plays in front of hundereds of people, on stage, by myself. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it.

At any rate,
An unexpected adventure landed me @ step show w. Fonsworth Bentley. Because I am a conspiracy theorist, I do not believe that it was really Fonsworth Bentley on stage. My old best friend and I had a great conspiracy about Fonsworth Bentley in which we accused him of murdering Big to have a chance to get in good w. Diddy and steal the shine. I thought I told you that we don't stop.

So after that, and some other things, I realized that between the block party & the ice cream social, and the meal I had ingested at Chilli's my stomach was mad at me. There is a price to pay for eating your way to popularity.

Okay I'll finish this later because now I want to write a song. :-D