Conscious slumber holds death's hand,
A waste of being lacking expectancy,
Not to attain matters planned
Nor to ever wholly breathe again.

Slightest verve could pierce the layer
That smothers elusive faith,
For which infinity would bargain,
and strive to never fail.

Unworthy of precious solace,
I strain through splinters of existence,
Violently inviting decency
to bring a world not so remiss.

I'm not feeling as bad as I did. Nathan was here one day, and we played video games in my room and I told him about it. It helped a little to talk to him for some reason.

I've been walking a lot to try to get into shape and allow my mind to clear. When I'm out on the road walking early in the morning when no one else is around, and the grass is wet and things are gray and not so clear, I get this great feeling. I feel like the only person in the world. Am I an individualist? Ha. It's fun to use/make up isms/ists. I wish I were in Mrs. McElheny's 8th grade algebra class right now. Why was Eric in there? He's a good ol' boy. He and Jeremy. You can't mention one without the other. Great guys. Anyway, boy I can tangent. That probalby can't be used as a verb. Oh well.

So many people look down on those with "menial" jobs—trash collectors, janitors, gas station employees, and so on. The truth is, if we didn't have these people, the world would be a much worse place (until we have fancy robots doing everything). We need the icky stuff to be cleaned, boxes to be shipped, and buses to be driven. Please don't look down on people with these types of jobs; many of them are very intelligent and nice (and deserving of better pay and benefits). Make eye contact, say hello. Acknowledge.

I should probably change majors again.