I like thinking about deep and meaningful things. In a sense of the word, I'd like to consider myself a contemplative. If I had the money, I'd buy an island and I would make it to be a community of contemplative thinkers. I'd call it "No Man," so that it would be physical reality to the truth that "No Man" is an Island. People would wander around thinking about the deep mysteries of life, and about God who is the greatest Mystery of all. The prayer before meals would start out as a blessing for the food, and would end up being a 2 hour intercession for the hungry. Food would get cold...but nobody would care [...]

The physical manifestation of perseverance: waiting. I suck at waiting. It'd be easier if it were less like the lottery, and more like eating at Denny's. Here's what I mean: At Denny's you order something like a "Grand Slam" breakfast or Bullalo Wings. The waitress asks the required, applicable, "Would you like white, wheat, rye, or sourdough bread with that?" And you tell her what you want. 20 minutes later she arrives with your food and you take it and eat it. If it isn't what you ordered then you tell your kind (hopefully) waitress and ask for the correction to take place. And there you have it. The lottery, on the other hand, is different. [...]

It goes without saying that I definitely want more perseverance. I want to rise above, I want to conquer, I want to run when others are hyper-ventilating, and walk when others are crawling. I want to push through when others give up, but I have to admit that I have a natural habit of falling instead of rising, surrendering instead of conquering, puking from the long run, and crossing finishing lines on all fours. I, my friends, am weak. I'm encouraged today, however. It's not about me. I try and try, but it's hard to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps when your fingers are broken. Every single thing that takes perseverance are usually the [...]

Tick. Tock. I sit in a youth center on the Fort Apache Reservation before opening for the school year. The hum of the ice machine sighs as the clock on the wall sings its own lullaby. The silence croons each inanimate object as I sit here and type. A bulletin board across from me catches my eye. With track schedules, autographed stuff from bands, and a couple of papers hanging, the jumble is relaxed but something has not just caught my eye, but my heart as well. Tick. Tock. I'm caught by a missing person poster. Maybe I'm caught by it because I've seen the teen before. This page is a police department release. The poster [...]