That sentence was incredibly long.

It is a danger that people of my age face. And that danger continues to face those older than me all the way to their deaths. Mediocrity. Never getting anything all that spectacular done. I might have it a little worse though because I dont have a job or anything like that. Totally dependent on my parents and my brother. That's a little too deadly for comfort.

I keep telling myself that well, I'll get out of this situation in a few months and move on to bigger and better things. The thing is, that's what I was telling myself two years ago and have I really come that far? I know, I know, now I am on the verge of having my associates so that has to count for something, that means I've accomplished something, right? And the movie is more than halfway filmed, right? And the other day I just got an email from a potential (POTENTIAL) costumer...but things are going way too slow for comfort. Meanwhile other stuff is going way too fast...

I've always been a person stuck in the middle...and sometimes i think its a good thing (I seem to be able to make sense of things that people on either extreme can't seem to get) but sometimes its a bad thing (am I the lukewarm water Christ will spit out?). I don't think I am...I have a passion for THAT atleast, and other things, my life just remains lukewarm...

But I am trying, right? I know I'm trying...but I need to try harder apparrently...

You're writing a book, right? You're working on your writing everyday, right?

That's not getting me anywhere right now, though...and I often wonder if I didn't write better in the past than I do now...In the past I was desperately in love with women I couldn't have, now I've got someone and I'm happy but there's that lack of passionate desperation that seemed to let words loose from my pen. Now I know why Knights couldn't marry until they were old, and why they pledged thier service to an unattainable woman. It made them want to fight more...the thrill of it all...

I miss the days when I could just write and write and write something, have it pour out of me like a river of ink...