I don't write as much as I used to.

I don't write as much as I want to.

I don't do a lot of things I wish I had time to do. I have some good books, but don't have the time to read them. I have aspirations and good ideas, things that I could do that would make would make me happier and my life more enjoyable, but have no mean with which to pursue them.

I have a camera, but I hardly ever take pictures.

It's a very nice camera too. I often think about going outside on a nice day and taking pictures. I think I would like to take up photography as a hobbby. I've actually thought of that for a long time, but haven't done a thing about it. And then, every now and then, I look at some photo galleries of people's work, and I think to myself again, I want to do that. It would be fun, it would be something that could satisfy my creative side. I hardly ever do that anymore. It sometimes makes me feel automatic and less human that I should or could be.

I can hardly remember the last time I felt really alive and grateful. I'm not excited about graduating or getting a job. I think I already hate what I do and I haven't even given it a chance. Why didn't I get into something fun? Why didn't I see this coming? IT, MIS, IS ... how am I going to have fun doing that? how will I manage to enjoy whatever success comes my way? Travel and Tourism is a nice afterthought. I often think about how interesting that industry would be. Or what about those people who just live to wake up everyday and do their job. Scuba Instructors, for instance. They get up everyday to go out on a boat full of happy people on vacation and get paid to teach them how to scuba dive and swim around coral reefs. How do people end up in jobs like that?

I think I made a decision very early on in my life to rule out anything that didn't involve corporate america. My vision of success and achievement was skewed and perverted. 'I need to be successful' I though to myself. 'I need to make something of myself, make lots of money, make my family proud, maybe even make a name for them' I thought to myself. 'Computers, Technology, that's where it's at, that's how I can do it' I thought to myself. And that was it. A simple decision made around my sophomore year in high school, and I never even allowed myself to consider the possibility of it being any other way.

Now I fully believe that someone can be happy and successful in doing whatever they do, as long as they love it, and as long as they have the drive and determination to make it work. That's what I have. That's almost all I have. That's what got me here today. No gift, no talent; just an iron sense of purpose. It doesn't feel that strong anymore.

I've been rejected by a couple of places I've applied to, and I didn't care as much as I think I would. 'Sorry, you're not what we are looking for', 'We have decided to pursue other candidates', 'We'll keep your resume in our databases for future openings'. It's ok. I really don't want to work for you that badly. I have no passion for you or your industry, it's just what I can do, my degree says so. And if you pay me enough, it might be worth it.

A friend back home always tells me I'm wasting my talent. Says I should've taken up Writing or English or something to that effect. I thought I was a pretty good writer once, maybe back in high school. So did my peers and teachers, actually. And being at this school makes me feel even better than I really am. Nevertheless, I can't think of that as a valid profession on it's own. Maybe someday down the road I can write about what I do, be a columnist or something, but a straight Writer? Life's hard enough without having to search for someone who wants you to work.

I used to think I was good at a lot of things, even what I'm studying.

My birthday is Thursday. I hate getting gift certificates, especially from those who really know you. Is it wrong to expect those whom you love to expect to know you well enough to produce something of thought and value to you? They're a great gift to give to your friends cousin whom you never met, but not your friend or your brother. They are ok if they are part of a gift, but never stand well alone. It says volumes about ones inability to really care and think. Money is worse. The first thing I think when I open a card with 20 bucks in it is 'Hey, gas money'. I'd rather receive the card alone. It means so much more without being stuffed with an excuse. My brothers didn't even give me a card this year. They almost forgot to care all together until I was walking out and one of them wished me a happy birthday as an afterthought.

The other day, I got my roomate to sign up as the last person for my free iPod. Now I have something to look forward to.