Life as we knew it. Before the moon came and collapsed through the firmament.

I want to be a social scientist who designs buildings for architects and landscapes for graphic designers. I want to be an artist who dances contemporary to Travis Wall's and plays bockey with JohnCook and isn't afraid of popping oil. I want to be a mythologist who knows the secrets of history, numerology, symbology and cryptology. I want to be a urban treasure hunter and caveneer, living on the moon with mordern day dentist-astronauts, a morbid gastronaut and spend my days shooting clown asteroids. I want to be a photographer and a pirate's best friend. I want to be a costume designer and effects coordinator. I want to be a professional sleeper and a suicidal actress, embodying the pain and memories of my dreams and personas as I go along. I want to be a liar and a mastermind, wreaking havoc for those who cause me injustice. I want to be a journalist, who broadcasts live in Iraq and fights alongside the men at war and excavates the remains of Nephilises (or whatever the hell they're called) with fellow archaeologists in deserts, on plains and beneath mountains. I want to be an interior designer who builds skyscrapers and relinquishes on how buildings were much more beautiful back in the ancient days. I want to be a crime scene processor who sees more than I'm suppose to. I want to be a pianist who sits on a stool and doesn't need music to flow. I want to be a jury in a court, able to empathize with criminals and child rapists. I want to be a policeman and a doctor, to see things that people usually don't. I want to be a means of life to someone. I want to mean something. At least I have a soul.

Either way, I still don't know what I want to do with myself.