ramblings and a picture...

How am I supposed to do this?
I have realized that I can not work in your factories and offices.
I can not act as though it all isn't too much.
I grow weary of the pressure.
Am I weak?
I must be.
When I think of all those people and their hearts and pride that came before me I realize how pitiful I am.
Money doesn't drive me.
Satisfaction does.
Where is the happiness in what I do?
I don't feel as though what I do makes that much of a difference. And even if it did I don't think that I would notice because I am too busy thinking about what it is that I haven't accomplished and haven't yet done.
Then when I think about how it is that I am going to do these things...These things that I feel drive me so much, my attention quickly vanishes and I again accept, neigh look forward to, the life that I find myself wanting to escape.
What's it going to be?
There are two columns, two choices, two futures. To me the first looks like a shopping cart, with a kid at the front, a basket full of food, and a wife leading the way picking and choosing turning only to scowl at my requests or to put something else in the little space that's left.
The other choice is just me. Alone sitting in a nondescript room wishing for the first vision but happy to be by myself.
I want to make my own way and create the reality as I go. But there are too many times when I just don't believe in myself...see, even right now I just realized that this post is really a waste of time. I started off thinking that it would be great, but in the end I've lost interest...I blame DNA.

A humorous anecdote:
I met a girl out at a bar the other night who told me that she had the ghost of a dead soldier following her around. Intrigued I asked how she knew this. She replied that a Buddhist nun who owned the snack bar around the corner told her it was so.
Interesting.
"Do you know why he's there?"
Her answer had something to do with the fact that her soul was damned or something like that. I didn't get it all, I was too busy trying to get the barman's attention.
I just picked up the beginning and end. I guess she is destined to kill herself. Or at least that was my interpretation.
It really was kind of sad. So sad that I had to move away.
As I bent over to pick up my bag I realized why it was that he was following her; her legs didn't even touch the ground.
She must of made him feel taller.
Damn soldiers, you can bury them, but the pride just won't die.

This here is Captain Ditto, a man of below average height, and a regular Japanese soldier. Too bad for the girl, if only she had drank that extra glass of milk when she was younger...but instead her soul shall suffer.
Lifes a bitch. Drink your milk. Or just don't visit Buddhist bar owning Nun's. They've got nothing nice to say about anyone.