More words

Heath has informed me that I must not over edit myself or I will never get any blogging done. Fair enough... hereafter is my stream o' consciousness, lacking in any form, function, or complete lists of things that it is lacking...

I am listening to some old rock-opera of War of the Worlds. I am looking forward to the new War of the Worlds movie but not really holding out any hope that I will enjoy watching it more than once. That's kinda sad. I am at work, working on sketches for a poster which is very cool, but I feel a little sad, and I don't know why.

I think about the baby, and I wonder if I'm worried about being a good father, but I think I will enjoy it. I wonder what role I will play in the baby's life. Maybe I'm afraid that I'll be like my father, a dreamer and mystic, pointing the way to a celestial ideal but snatched away and gone, and then there is only the long cold road of shaken faith between the golden glow on the horizon and the grim gray wasteland of loss.

I don't want to depress anyone. Liz doesn't like it when I talk like that. I want to... I want to do so many things.

I feel like I should have some grand goal that I am working toward, but I can't really braid all the little strings of my life together and make them go in one direction. I know they'll all come together evetnually, so does it really do any good to try to figure out how?

Oh well, I should get back to work. Hope you enjoyed the words.