I Have the Gasmask You Were Looking For

If you haven't noticed yet, I like to change the layout of my blog. It has seen a lot of different looks. I think I'm going to stick with this one for a while. I like the black and orange. Maybe it has to do with Halloween...but I doubt it. I think it has to do with the fact that I cannot get away from needing to change. I can't stay with one thing for too long. It drives me crazy. In anything. I can't get away. Art, movie, music, food, TV shows, and relationships. For whatever reason, I need to get away from where I am currently and move on to something that meets whatever fucked up standards I have at the time. Whatever they may be.
But I think this time off is going to do me some good. I need to get outside of my own head. I need to move beyond what this world has to give me. I have to make my own way in the world. At this point I can't afford to let any one else tread the path in front of me. I need to do it. I need to make this world my own. And why the hell not? It should be mine. Why the hell can't I have every little thing that I want in the world? Why can't I be as happy as I want to be?
There is absolutely no reason why I should just let this wash over me and determine the person I am going to be in the end. I have to choose the tide that envelopes me. I have to choose the end that I deserve and make it happen to the fullest extent of what ever that means. It has to happen.
There is no reason why it shouldn't. No one else is going to do it for me. It has to be me.

Here is some more insperational shit, but this time from the glorious Connor Oberst.

There's a voice on the phone
telling what had happened,
some kind of confusion
more like a disaster.
And it wondered how you were left unaffected,
but you had no knowledge.
No, the chemicals covered you.
So a jury was formed
as more liquor was poured.
No need for conviction,
they're not thirsting for justice.
But I slept with the lies I keep inside my head.
I found out I was guilty.
I found out I was guilty.
But I won't be around for the sentencing,
cause I'm leaving
on the next airplane.
And though I know that my actions are impossible to justify
they seem adequate to fill up my time.
But if I could talk to myself
like I was someone else,
well then maybe I could take your advice,
and I wouldn't act like such an asshole all the time.

There's a film on the wall,
makes the people look small
who are sitting beside it,
all consumed in the drama.
They must return to their lives once the hero has died.
They will drive to the office
stopping somewhere for coffee,
where the folk singers, poets and playwrights convene,
dispensing their wisdom,
Oh dear amateur orators.

They will detail their pain
In some standard refrain.
They will recite their sadness
Like it's some kind of contest.
Well, if it is, I think I am winning it,
All beaming with confidence
as I make my final lap.
The gold medal gleams
so hang it around my neck
cause I am deserving it:
the champion of idiots.

But a kid carries his walkman on that long bus ride to Omaha.
I know a girl who cries when she practices violin.
Cause each note sounds so pure, it just cuts into her,
and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes.
Now to me, everything else, it just sounds like a lie
-"Going for the Gold" Bright Eyes