In my dreams, Lawrence Ferlinghetti tells me I have the same fire in my eyes that he once saw in Jack's, before he drowned it out with booze.

I doubt I'd recognize Larry and, besides, I'm pretty sure I peaked in the eighth grade. Maybe the twelfth, but by then, I wasn't as good at fooling everyone. I'm sick of marking my success with black scratches and stars in my planner, but I'm scared to stop. I'm not sure how to mark it otherwise.

I'm not sure I miss fooling everyone.

I wish every day could feel like this:

We sat in the booth, recounting the events of the night before. He sat behind us, quietly eating his dinner by himself. The coffee was hot and our laughter loud. He seemed amused.

The waitress cleared his picked-through plate, and asked if he wanted any dessert. "One of these days ..." he responded with a little chuckle, and hobbled, bent, toward the door.

It made me immeasurably sad.

How many days do you get really? "One of these days" is always the wrong answer, no matter the question.

Why is it that in our society we so often let ourselves be defined by what we do to make money, rather than who we are? I love journalism, but I'd hope that who I am -- why my friends like me, why I make the decisions I do and what my favorite things are -- has a lot more to do with my self-definition than what I do for a living.

Think this isn't a true statement? What's the first thing people ask when you first meet them?

So, what do you do?

Sure, it's an icebreaker, but people use it to judge one another. I'm a reporter -- People assume I'm liberal and uber-hip to anything news and politics. I may be liberal, and I love to read the news, but ask me about my favorite newscaster and I'm going to look at you dumbfounded. I'm not in the business for the technology and jargon. I'm in it because I'm a dreamer and I still think I can change the world by writing about the wrongs in it and by pointing out the good.

How often do we misjudge each other, missing out on opportunities for good friends and interesting conversation, based on our occupations?

The next time you meet someone, ask them about their favorite author. The place they most want to visit. The last thing that really made them laugh.

They might give you a funny look at first, but you'll learn so much more about who they are, not how they pay their bills.

So basically, this is one of the darkest days in history.

This day in history:
Jan. 30, 1933: Adolf Hitler was named Chancellor of
Germany.
Jan. 30, 1948: Gandhi was assassinated.

Salary is no object; I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.

-- Dorothy Parker

I like that.

In other news, I've been doing a bad job of keeping this updated. My poor brain was just too overworked and fried to explode about anything. I think it's healing now, and I am able to express dismay again. Fellow cynics/dreamers, rejoice (if that seems like an oxymoron, you don't know me).

Check this out: Artemis Speaks. You know you want to sign up.

Normally, Marie Clarie seems to be a step above its fellow guilty-pleasure women's magazines. It might be filled with the prerequisite fashion spreads and sex tips, but it's also sprinkled with real articles addressing world issues.

Until this month.

Marie Claire's column by David Kamp, "The Un-Sexiest Generation Ever!" is nothing but a waste of paper, filled with cliches, contradictions and general whining. A frustrated man of the '90s complains about missing out on the free love of the '60s and the promiscuous sex of now, while simultaneously condemning both cultures for not being as discerning as his "boring" generation: "We had honor and self-respect, yes, but maybe not . . . fun? To quote a 39-year-old friend of mine who is married to an intelligent, beautiful, successful working woman of the same age: 'Damn! Why didn't we have girls dressed like that and 'friends with benefits' when we were in college?'"

I am so sorry, sir, that AIDS and self respect put such a damper on your meaningless romps. And your friend should consider himself lucky that his "intelligent, beautiful, successful" wife puts up with his mindless comments. No one's asking for a return to the judgmental '40s and '50s, but choosing one's sexual partners carefully and using protection was a positive move in the sexual revolution.

Please tell me I just don't see the satire here.

I love when Google reads my mind:

Without work, all life goes rotten. But when work is soulless, life stifles and dies.

— Albert Camus

Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.

— Jack Kerouac

I'm trying something new and attempting to write a little every day.

If I come up with anything decent, I'll post it on here and let you tell me what you think.

Stay tuned.

To clarify the last post:

The thought that one needs to lose their mind in the eyes of others in order to be true to oneself and, thus, save their soul shouldn't be a depressing one. What is depressing is the day-to-day normalcy so many of us resign ourselves to.

We brag about how little sleep we got the night before, how we're surviving on cheap coffee and stale crackers from the vending machine. We follow plans assigned by those who went before us, checking off each step to success. We work endlessly when we're young and healthy and vital so that we can retire when we're old and used-up. We plan our lives before we've even had the chance to begin them.

And for what?

Money? Bragging rights? A buffer against the disapproving look that is given when the answer to "And what will you do when you graduate?" is "Who the hell knows?"

Love, truth and beauty are all that truly matter in this world: Love of self, love of family and friends, love of fellow man; truth in interactions and the universal truths of mankind; and the inherent beauty that is born from love and truth.

Children follow these tenets; adults, often, do not.

Children don't worry what other people think of them. When they're sleepy, they sleep. When they want to dance, they dance. They seek answers for any question that comes to mind. They create art and music regardless of "talent." They're not afraid of looking silly or being unpopular or unsuccessful — If it makes them happy, it's good enough for them.

Why let that spirit of innocence go? Because as an adult, it is seen as eccentric at best and insane at worst.

Forget about what the world may think. In all actuality, everyone is doing the same thing; the person they are most concerned with is themself. In that light, caring so very much about appearances is obviously foolish.

The only way to be happy is to figure out what you stand for: What you would fight for and what you would die for. The rest is irrelevant. Don't be frivolous with your love but be generous with your affection. Don't let other's opinions influence your decisions; make your own path. You're the one who has to live with the outcome.

"In the U.S., you have to be a deviant or die of boredom." William S. Burroughs