Went paintballing today for the first time; man, I have a new-found appreciation for the troops we have deployed in the Middle East. Or just the military in general, not that I didn't appreciate them to begin with. O M G. Within 30 seconds on the field, I got one giant orange glob right between the eyes; I thought I was hiding pretty well too. In fact, out of maybe the 20 times I was hit in a 3 hour time span, 15 times were in the head or my face. Thank God for paintball masks. It's all fun and games until you realize that if this were REAL war, I'd be really dead 15 times already. Within 3 hours.

I had started wearing like 4 layers of sweaters upon jackets and 3 pairs of pants to cushion myself from the bullets, but as the day went on, it got way too hot to stand. Plus, I was barely getting grazed on my limbs; I was getting pummeled in the face and head. In fact, the only notable bruise on my body other than my head is on my left leg, which is changing colors like some sort of tropical animal. There was one bullet that missed the mask and slammed into the side of my forehead; what had started out as a welt is now a pretty painful greenish bump.

I think I did pretty well for a first-timer; I'll say this though, those paintballs really don't fly straight and very far. It would take me like 10 shots shooting at a stationary target before one would actually LAND on them. Also my mask kept fogging up; when there are paintballs flying around you every which-way, and you can't see anything except your own raspy breath condensing in your goggles, survival takes on a whole new meaning. It didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would when I was shot. I thought it would be excruciating, but I guess as long as you're not being shot point-blank, the pain is tolerable. Between paintball and snowboarding, I'd pick paintball any day.

The gun gets pretty friggin heavy after lugging it around for a while, and there some how never seems to be enough ammo. When regrouping, there were all these girls with canisters of full ammo, and I couldn't figure out what they were doing if they weren't firing at the enemy. I guess if you're hiding the entire time, you're not going to be shooting much. Also, if you're going to be hiding the whole time and not shooting, chances are you're not going to be hit either, which would explain why I was covered in paint and all these other girls were unscathed. I was a sweaty, oily mess by the end of the ordeal. I was covered in yellow and orange goop, my hair like it had been drenched in neon hairwax with pieces of purple and blue bullet shards, but I was loving every minute of it. I even joined in the last hurrah, which was where everyone who wasn't tired out scavenged all the ammo they had left and went head to head. It was AWESOME, even if I did get a few shots to the back of my head [ouch]....

Summer. Have been waiting for 9 months for this; its the only time when I'm not tired, when I'm excited for life, and I get to wear all the clothes that look good on me. Camping at Assateague Island with the boy with weekend, relaxation the weekend after, Wildwood for 4th of July, then off to San Antonio for a conference. The night after I come back, the band, sans male-singer, will be performing at Willie's company event. We're doing Save Tonight by Eagle Eye Cherry and 7 Nation Army by the White Stripes. This time, I get to sing [HURRAY!!]. We'll have like 3 days to practice because Sid doesn't come back til late June, and I'll be gone almost every single weekend. Then I'm off to Lake Anna for Camping with friends, and then I'm off to Waz's wedding at the end of July. August seems pretty empty so far, although I'm pretty sure a trip to Ocean City or 2 is in the works. This summer will officially be the most jam-packed summer to date for me so far, and I just can't wait to enjoy every second of it.

There's a restlessness that stirs
sapping away the energy that already isn't there
but somehow I resist my aching shoulders
my tired eyes
my shallow breathing
resist sinking into cushioned foam
a sea of blanket and pillows and sleep.
It's as if I continue to stay awake
force myself to abstain from the rest I truly deserve
I can drag my day longer
and I then myself live longer
in this moment
so I can feel like I've truly accomplished something
remarkable
that I've fought the mundane
the everyday life
so in the extra minutes I steal from myself
I can pretend that they're going to something
truly worth it.

I'm exaggerating. But here's one of the performances that I worked extra extra hard on:



And yeah, that's me singing and guitaring it up. And we don't sound nearly as bad as I keep saying we do. But yeah. DONE.

And they just released their new video for "My Heart, Your Hands"

My Heart, Your Hands (Music Video)

Dommin | MySpace Music Videos

While looking through Beyond the Rack, I ran across this clothing line called Romeo and Juliet couture. My first thought was, OMG, that's such a good idea! A clothing and jewelry line inspired by the play! Then I clicked into the link, saw the clothes, and was thoroughly disappointed. Like, seriously? I mean, wtf is this?!

They never tell you that sometimes you can't grow up to be something you want to be. And after you do grow up, they never tell you there's more to it all.

Struggling day after day, trying to myself a piece of mind. What is it that I should be doing now? What am I building myself towards? When I grow up, I want to be a pop star. Now that I've grown up, I know better than to try to pursue such a low-reward, high risk endeavor. At least, not to the extent of what my childhood fantasies warrant.

So, now. What did you want to be when you grew up again? Because I think growing up has come and gone, and now you really need to figure out where you are going. Growing up doesn't stop until you're old, and the question arises: Where are you now, and where are you going to be?

24 years have come and gone, 5 years of childhood, 12 years in school, spent on trying to fit in, reading scripts and singing songs in the studio, filling fraying notebook after notebook with introspective scrawls, poetry, and song. 6 years in the states spent finding myself, growing up, learning to love myself for who I am. Several internships, an associate producer at a news station, and now starting year #2 at a government job. Looks fulfilling on paper; college seems like eons ago. So now at 24, where am I headed?

I could focus on my career; get to a GS level 14 before I'm 30. That would be nice. Look good on my resume, give my mom something else to gush about. I'd be proud of myself, eventually work towards a managerial position. I know I can do it.

But somehow, that's not enough for me. I want extraordinary. I want a full sense of accomplishment, like I did something big. Getting a job promo is big, but not in the way I want it. I know what it'll take: Getting a book published. Getting a screenplay published. Getting signed to a record label [although that seems to bring more problems than it solves]

Chipping away at the novel I'm writing, a brainless, entertaining piece of fluff that is no where near trying to be the next great American Novel; no one ever tells you how hard it is to write these things. An hour will roll by, and I'll have barely written a paragraph. At this rate, this book will be finished when I'm 30. And this screenplay. Never had any experience with writing screenplays; not a full one anyways, and the film I made for Summer fellows my senior year in college had a pretty awful script. Maybe as a musical, it'll be less awful.

I'm just sick of ideas I have never being put into action. Those that take action are the ones that accomplish things.

Why do I feel like I've accomplished so little? What am I trying to prove, and to who?