I'm not a very political person, I'm not even very politically correct, but the other day I learned a little bit more about California's Proposition 8.
Here's el dealio, I couldn't understand, why would the church want us to vote for Prop 8 so badly? I understand that homosexuality is a sin and that we shouldn't condone it, but at the same time, don't people have their rights to believe whatever they want to believe? And then I read this.
Also, check this out
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Glomerular Apparatus
Tell me about your expenses, sing me a lullaby of taxes, stocks, and all your investments. I love listening to your money talk and hearing all of your thoughts on stock. Give me hope and give me love, wrap me up tight in your green dreams. I'll sit you in the corner and I'll spin you round and round and round.
Baby, business is my business and babies are my hobby-horse. So baby, let's go for a ride.
Baby, business is my business and babies are my hobby-horse. So baby, let's go for a ride.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Nostalgia
The feeling of my hair blown on my face, in my ears, and around my forehead is something unfamiliar, but this bench, the smell of exhaust, and the anticipation are not.
It has always been a journey, before I steppeed out my door I could feel it. It was the rush, the distant beeping, the only difference was the increase in gas prices. The store window displays are advertising the same things with new names or else have dissappeared with the window panes. The shady Mexican restaurant, the smell of grease, and fries and grass clippings.
The mountains? They're as constant as, as unmoving, as immovable as my Grandpa's constitution. Don't expect them to reflect the look of surprise I see on your face, they've seen it.
The screech of the wind through the windows has been there, but I just never realized before what it was screeching about. This time I want to join it.
But in the end, what really changes? Is it the people, the places, the weeds? Or is it only our opinions? The shoes we wear are a different brand, a different style, maybe a different color, but the same size, the same foot. And why does some change feel natural while other changes rip us apart?
It has always been a journey, before I steppeed out my door I could feel it. It was the rush, the distant beeping, the only difference was the increase in gas prices. The store window displays are advertising the same things with new names or else have dissappeared with the window panes. The shady Mexican restaurant, the smell of grease, and fries and grass clippings.
The mountains? They're as constant as, as unmoving, as immovable as my Grandpa's constitution. Don't expect them to reflect the look of surprise I see on your face, they've seen it.
The screech of the wind through the windows has been there, but I just never realized before what it was screeching about. This time I want to join it.
But in the end, what really changes? Is it the people, the places, the weeds? Or is it only our opinions? The shoes we wear are a different brand, a different style, maybe a different color, but the same size, the same foot. And why does some change feel natural while other changes rip us apart?
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