It's just a crosswalk.

Merging is one of those things that takes care of itself 98% of the time. The 'main' stream is autonomous in its movement, and you have to slide in to become part of that stream. But damn, let's add some populace and bikers and cyclists and handicap carts and scooters and skateboarders and cane-walkers and stumblers and toddlers. They merge or cross the merge, letting a solid white silhouette man followed by a flashing red hand assist their ability to follow a boxed elongated rectangular path. There's always those nasty corners, where the yielding gets messy, with out-of-nowhere endings to bike routes and indiscriminately misplaced markings. Still, the yield leaves that 2% error for those mistakes you read about in the papers. It's that man who almost made it, but got smashed by an intoxicated BMW-wielding driver too involved in his bass heavy music to notice the blood on his windshield. It's kind of a shame that he causes all the problems, jamming traffic and causing those overdrawn rich vain women to flip open their pink cell phones to call their boyfriend the "oh my god" moment. Someone in that parking circle is still finishing his taco, while that 85 year old man with the broken down electric cart didn't even lift his chin. They sweep the streets, take care of that red blood cell mess and repaint the crosswalk. Merging mostly works, after all, 98% of the time experts say.

The humanity of automation...

Error! Robot! Overload. Operation complete is a daily subroutine, intended to be checked off and databased before wine hour with cheese. It's a contaminant of life's synchronicity, a block in normal operation. After all, when did you ever really abase yourself from the system? Cycling through predefined options, I take a repository of ideas with me on the road. I stop at local hotspots to get heated with spot-on commentary of a could-have-been moment, lucky enough to buy 25c sodas in subsidized vending machines. If I ever get that chance to dance around space with a gravity-filled vacuum, I'd sit down fireside with some physicists and spit in Zero G's. Enough to see suspended colloids roll back the top portion of my nose and submerge my face in vitrified water, I think I'd be ready to have a heart. I'd be ready to extend my hand and unplug myself from the wall. It's all that commentary that really got me the first time, so I might as well be talking by myself in the outer ether with earthy pride for the rest of my telomeric cellular life cycle.

Right at that moment you thought you broke through...

Upon passing by graduation ceremonies, I'm dosed with a rosey scene of future life. They've got the friends, they've got the enemies. Heck, they even have a bouquet of roses, real rosey. Their parents fawn over every little accomplishment, categorizing each in a nice spreadsheet format, ready for distribution to other family members or prestigious job-giving 'affiliates of the extended family' and smiling every second. In transit, I kind of feel like a fish swimming up stream for no real reason. No roses, No big hugs, No rosey sense of accomplishment. As all that sweat pours over the human you thought you were, you really notice you're just giving in to that happy feeling of being rewarded for something you didn't do. After all, they feel that way too, although not nearly as aware that they don't deserve all those high fives and placarded kisses on the cheek. Roses were not meant for such shallow experiences.

Pipe Down Mr. Pawn.

Check. Check Mate. Pipe down Mr. Pawn I proclaim with pivotal pragmatism. Protesting the transmutated form of the python is problematic you see. Pipe down Mr. Pawn before you fawn yourself with crowd-surfing pundits punishing the problematic you see. You see green richer than most, piped full of oil and gunned down in alleyways. Check. Check Mate.

It doesn't take much to achieve greatness...

You really don't need much talent in this world to achieve greatness. With a hand full of rocks and a slingshot, you can become the greatest slingshoter. With an Altoids box and some illegal substances, you could become the greatest hallucinogenic salesman with the lowest budget. With some metals and an iron hammer, you can become a blacksmith. With a body and some acrylics, I'm sure you could even walk the runway. Damn them all who told you that you couldn't be what you wanted. Ever since the time you pushed the launch button to send the Science class rocket into the sky, didn't you want to be great? It doesn't really take much to achieve greatness. Anybody can be a somebody, as long as you don't take no from anybody. There are so many who live in the prospective confines of their own little cozy life. Relative to their daily shopping, punitive behavior affirmations, tax paying, snob-nobbing, and gossiping, they really don't have time to become great. This is why they'll tell you every reason why you are bound to fail. After all, it doesn't really take much to be worthless either...

Note to Self: Most People are Not Worth the Time

How many times has there been a general lack of decent reciprocation from your fellow humans? We expect too much from people. We require a constant connectedness with the world around us, which is why we have all sorts of gizmos designed to keep us continuously hooked into the world. But, I believe we should put more faith in the abstract and substantial. Instead of devoting so many hours to gaining the approval of one individual, why not pool your eggs into multiple baskets? Make short term friends with many people, and see how the consequential variety of life leads to the prolongment of certain relationships? Invest in the itinerary of the unknown, as it may pay out the greatest. Lean back, lock onto a bird as it dips into the icy waters to retract a fish, and keep a distinct mood of clarity and universality. With the tools of concrete gifts, most notably the wealth of information available on the internet, your personal pursuits will be indeniably more satisfactory. Randomize your gestures, being a selfish worm only when necessary, but give delight to those who applaud the different. The sleep couldn't be more amazing when there is creative consults on the mind, and you could be snoring on a park bench under the moonlit stars without a hinderance of getting back to your roots. Leave the past behind, and embrace the 'I' in Life.

Another deviation from the norm...

I proclaim, with honest sincerity, that I have very little interest in the tedious self-proclamation of most. With this said, I begin a new era of discovery and independence.