Here I am, locked in the terrible throes of winter. We didn’t have school today. The windchill factor was 50 below (oF).

Anyway, the winter. I get nothing done. I have to sleep. I sleep a lot.

Of course it’s natural for humans to hibernate – we are mammals, are we not?

I know where the wanderlust comes from. I can feel it burning deep within me right now. With my entire world locked in miserable snow and ice, I dream about the summer, and running somewhere. I can envision green fields and trees passing by from a boxcar. I have given up my dream of running away into the world and never coming back to here. I really must come back. I have far too many opportunities. But my thirst for adventure is still strong. I shall live yet.

I would much rather read someone’s autobiography than any biography about them.

Know thy goals and go after them; make the decisions.

I try not to haze the line I see between these writings and a journal. A journal, which I plan to keep some day on my travels, should be a chronicle of events. This book should contain my raw opinions carefully expressed in written words.

I have noticed recently that my speech is deteriorating. When I talk, I am occasionally leaving out the “s” in possessive nouns, ignoring articles, or forming contractions from words that are not usually contracted or from three words. I wonder about this. Could this at times incomprehensible speech be an effect from a stage I have hit upon in my adolescence? Perhaps it’s a symptom of a mental disorder. I’ve had isolated incidents of jumbled speech before. Previously, I just disregarded such events as times when I had an overabundance of thoughts swimming in my head and was unable to convey a single one entirely and effectively through my mouth.

I find this issue perplexing, but not considerably thought-provoking.

AIDS is transmitted by the one most impulsive instinct humans have, the desire to reproduce. Abstinence is said to be the only sure prevention of it, but hardly anybody can be abstinent.

The human race is doomed.

The power of words to spout love or hate, compatibility or conflict, lust or repulsiveness…mere words, which take seconds to be expressed and understood -- or misunderstood.

Lives are constructed or destroyed by words.

The hustle is nothing; it can be ignored.