To quote Tyler Durden, "I don't want to die without any scars." At the end of it all, I'd like to be one of these beached killer whales that the scientists find washed up on the beach with their skin festooned with thickened welts and wounds from a lifetime of battles with giant squids and octopusesesss... Yeah, the boy wonder seeks a life less ordinary but the mundane seems to be the norm. I'm not greedy, I don't want all the attention, I just want enough to make things more interesting. For example, I don't want to BE a famous celebrity who scores alot of chicks, I'd be content with just having a resemblance with a famous celebrity who scores alot of chicks. I envy the guy who looks juuusstt a lil' bit like Collin Farrell right now, 'cuz this bastard just about hit the lotto when that horndog got the spotlight. I'm patiently waiting for MY celebrity double, I'm hoping he appears in a big obnoxious Hollywood film and not a indy piece of crap that only girls who work at Tower Records would go see. Back to the scars, I need to take more risks with my heart and stop babysitting my wallet. I want to make a statement without having to push ink into my bicep or my back to say it for me. As you can see, I've got all kinds of colorful aspirations but I've no idea how to accomplish them. Now that I'm older its plain to see that we only know half of what's coming. The half that we can control is guided by the decisions we make, the other half is decided by luck of the draw, by whatever mysterious forces are at work to make us get audited by the IRS or win an all-expense paid to the Bahamas. I find that uncertainty strangely comforting. It allows me to let go. And so before I'm done, Im trying to leave a big freaking mess of a scarred up, ran through, welted, bullet riddled, freezer-burned mosaic of a lifetime. And if I don't, and you're still around...be sure to tell your kids how much I kicked ass anyway.