What are these anyways?  Words.  Words on a page.  Certainly they indicate that something is going on somwhere else to cause their appearance.  Thoughts.  And then volition streams them into the form of words.  But they are not real.  They are flat, soundless, and unlively shadows, or even more, corpses of the things that really are.  Words are not alive.  They do not feel, cry, touch, act, or be.  Motionless.  Silent.  Dead.  Life is to be preferred.

EDIT: Using words, I will now apologize to words, because that did sound a bit harsh.  Words are not entirely bad, and do represent a whole world of potential beauty in themselves.  But I imagine and fear a world of people obsessed with them; always reading books, or on their computers, or being Emily Dickinsons, who didn't leave her house for seven years or something.  In my mind, words are a limited but uniquely awesome medium of communication, but must always be emphasized as inferior to living life as it is perceived through your own two eyes.  But take my word for it, I love words. 

"The words printed here are concepts.  You must go through the experiences."

Isn't it weird that there are people alive today that lived in the 1800s?  Mention of the 1800s suggests the mood of an ancient realm, one that has long been dead.  But there's still eyewitness testimony of it around, figuring that the oldest person alive today is around 112 to 114 years old. 

That means that the oldest person alive today has lived in three separate centuries.  Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have a new life goal: living in three different centuries.  Now I'm at something of a disadvantage because while they were born around five years before the start of the 20th century, I was born eleven years before the start of the 21st century.  So I'll have to live a little under 111 years to see the next century, although I'm not sure I'll really want to be around for those gas prices.  But then again, I probably won't be able to drive. 

My, only being alive 18 of 111 years makes it seem like I've barely got my feet wet! 

How does one live to ancestrally old age?  I'll have to make a hobby of living, I suppose.  Really, it's a rewarding hobby, because it's the only hobby that sustains itself.

I'm glad I get to see the next chapter in history.  The 20th century was the top rung of a ladder to somewhere, but no one really knows where.  It saw the advent of automobiles, the radio, TV, computers, suburbs, major world military crises, and a long list of other things that could go on and on and on.  All I have really seen in my lifetime is all the technological devices get smaller.  What happens next is subject to global anticipation.

Let's just hope blogging isn't soon proven to shorten life expectancy.

*Sits up straight* (Posture improves life expectancy)

Ironically, I think the everyday stress from making sure I do things to live a long life might in the end hasten my death.

Farethewell, and have a good night!

I haven't done these in awhile, at least not this year.  It's about time for another round.

Wonder wakens worlds within.  

Freeing fostered frustration feels fabulous. 

Daydreamers dream despite dreary days.

Persevering pain produces patient people.

Inspirational ideas instigate internal imagery.

Amateur, but good enough!  Try to make your own, it's quite enjoyable!