t w e n t y . t h r e e . n o w . . . . . . . . . . . . . [ got life in his hands ] . . . . . `` he`s looking around AND HE DOESN`T UNDERSTAND `` :: `cause life`s too busy , things get in the way . . . . . . . . . . . . we all feel alone every single day .

You know what's funny?

I never made a theme for July.

Well, it's not funny, especially if you have no clue what I'm talking about [ which seems to happen a lot when I talk to people, hahah ] but it's definitely something noteworthy. Whatever the case, it'd do well to rifle through the entry for this month. I dropped lines when I could. Wasn't exactly completely preoccupied with pressing matters, seeing as how writing is all I seem to do.

At the beginning of this month, I figured it would fly by, but I also had this weird misconception that it'd crawl by all the same. And, you know, it's really... strange, the idea of time crawling by, because you expect it to be something along the lines of how you anticipate, obviously, but then it gets there and you're just sitting there, as if there was more to come.

I missed a few things here and there. Some were more important than others.

I recently rediscovered that my laziness will often bite me in the butt: when I resolve that I want to relax, recline, take it easy and not do anything for the day or go anywhere, I usually regret it. Time wasted, less memories made, and more things to pile onto the stack for the next day. What's better is that I know I'd have a blast [ with most of the things ], and when my circumstances don't permit something in my window of opportunity to be feasible any longer, I get understandably upset.

I mean, it happens to all of us, right?

Whether you did what you needed to or just spent another month with your face buried in a pillow or sand, in your bed or at the beach, respectively - or maybe it's even winter where you are and you spent it huddled up with blankets and a book or something - it's another month gone by. Not anything we can replay, retrace, or redo. Just a messed muddling of things we can learn from.

Oh. I almost forgot the song.

Seems to happen a lot now, doesn't it? Haha.

Cartel - "Wasted"

Pandora served me well in shoving Cartel down my throat on my Paramore Station. I then started racing to mash the thumbs-up almost every time I saw a Cartel song pop up.

And then this one came on.

And I just froze.

Take a good listen to it.

Here go the lyrics.

Seriously. Read along.

Okay. It starts up again. That's the beauty of InfiniteLooper.

I've been talking to a lot of my distant friends as of late. The ones I grew up with, the ones I went to school with are all busy with their own matters and can't be bothered because they're on a steady path to constructing their lives. As you can tell, the lyrics in this song are just about squandering time in life and the leaps and bounds to and fro milestones. It's magic of music that permits a lyricist to dance around time, but when we look at reality, look at our grim realities and our ghastly pasts, we figure that things are always on a downward slope for us. That things that happen for a reason are happening badly because we've no particular purpose, favor, or inclination to become anything for this world.

And then there are moments when we couple the ignorance and abominable behavior of a few with the fault of our entire race - not ethnicity, not citizenship, but our race as a species - to the point where we give up all hope.

And if enough stars wink out in the night sky, we'll have nothing to look up to and fill ourselves with from our lowly, naive beginnings.

The words of a mediocre, middle-class, genial, teenage boy may not reach the leaders of nations, nor the ears of his own peers, but whoever can read this very well should exercise it, as I try my best, even if it isn't always my all. I've given myself a purpose, and I've said it many times before for you all to do the same. And, if it's the wrong kind of purpose, you should reconvene and rediscover the kind of person you are. You may not always have all the time in the world, but you have now, and that's all that really matters.

Who's going to incarcerate you if you think for two minutes about who you've been, who you are now, and who you want to be in the future?

And who's going to hate you if you want to change the world for the better?

Of course, the people who don't want to change because they're comfortable with their state as of now and who afraid of what is out of their control.

But, don't forget, they are just as important on this earth, in this existence as you are. No one person is more significant, more capable than any other.

"No one belongs here more than you."

I still want that book. If someone gets it for me, I'd still be the worst friend ever, because my friends give me so many things and I just have nothing to offer them. The best I have to offer is my companionship and on-going presence.

Speaking of which, I've been fighting to get back into control of myself. No, I wasn't, like, overtaken by some alien forces, or perhaps even the unseen forces of the cosmos, but I just let everything escape me. If I wasn't feeling well, it was because I had slipped into bad habits of poor sleeping structures or relatively sub-par eating schedules; if I didn't submit a post that was on par, it was most likely because I was being lazy - that's it. But, I've made myself a regiment. It's going to burn me out for the rest of the summer, but, like I've come to realize, it's better to over-exert myself than to under-project my efforts.

On-going or every day, I try to get as much as I can done. Hopefully it'll yield better than my makeshift lists.

So much work to do? Just means that I have an even better reason to be focused.

"We're wasted, no, no -

We're all wasted."

It just rings in my head that we, as a collective entity, are relaxed. There are people who get up at three in the morning to do what they need to do while others merely wait for the completion of others as a trigger for their musings of obligatory tasks: "Should I do it now?" "I don't feel like it." "I'll get to it eventually."

I'm a culprit as much as anyone else. Probably the biggest hypocrite you'll meet in your life, though I've a counter, genuine persona to me, as you may have already been able to gather. I'll find a reason to do something, and then find better reasons for it not to be done.

And then use them as excuses.

I think I'm going to wrap it up here. Always as food for thought - no grave, life-shifting notions, though it'd be really cool to see a bunch of people all over the nations openly instilling courage, confidence, and comfort into the future generations, and then that viciously delightful cycle continuing on.

I'm well convicted to the point that I'll be one of those individuals trying my best to better the world when I'm well and able.

As of right now, I've got work to do - and that's to make sure my life isn't wasted.

P.S. - I check the demographics of audience for this blog every now and then, and I'm actually surprised to see its reception reaching out of my own little state. Though, my throwing it at everyone does help, it's really incredible how it reaches places like India [ even with one reader ] or Russia [ with a couple more ] and even Brazil [ with a handful ]. I'm not sure if they're regular readers as I'm a regular writer [ as regular as you can call it, I guess ], but I'd like to just thank everyone for entertaining me whenever I threw the links at them, or even if you've stumbled across it on happenstance. Thank you very much, I'm greatly honored that this thing that started for myself and then one friend has evolved to such a state, even if I can't say I'm a heralder and prophet for all nations. Hahah.

Not too far off from it, though. Not yet.

Let's make the theme for this month: Acknowledgment.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

if i DIE TOMORROW ; i`d be ALRIGHT . because I BELIEVE that AFTER WE`RE GONE ; [ :: The Spirit Carries On ~

"The Spirit Carries On" - Dream Theater

I could talk about anything, but I won't. It's just one of those days when you just need to sit back and listen to some music, and do whatever it is you need to get done.

I'll get back to my normal blabbing on Tuesday.

Promise.
=]

<3 ~ Monty.

BIRDS CAME FLYING FROM THE UNDERGROUND ; if you could see it, then you'd understand . .

An early Friday-present.

I was scrolling on Tumblr because it absorbs my life force when I try to fight it. Found this:

Enjoy.

A bit of a long read, but, I mean, someone put the time and effort into reading it, and it's not hard on the eyes by any means. Do me a favor and at least click it and read the first three lines. If you don't like it or have time, bookmark it and come back to it.

But don't let it waft in your mind, curiosity festering all about it while you try to protect it all.

You need it just like I do.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

Oceans and Streams ; The Black Keys .

A pretty short read:

Anecdote of a Taxi Driver

I just think that if these moments happened more frequently and people shared them, it wouldn't necessarily change anything, but it'd keep some kind of contempt within the people. It's weird, really.

I'm not looking to really chat you guys up today. Been in a bit of a fix the past couple of weeks. No worries, mostly everything is alright - the last entry was an honor of mine for a good friend of mine in memory of a great idol of hers.

And that person, a complete stranger to me, has now incorporated my being as a vessel, of sorts.

To become a better writer, you've got to be open-minded and absorb your surroundings, adapt well and all of that, right? Well, that's what I've been working on.

-heavy sigh-

Haven't quite resolved the lot of the trouble just yet, but we're figuring it out.

Inspired by my buddy Andrew Kontra

I've got a promise to him that he probably barely even remembers. Hahah.

What's the promise?

Well, you'll figure it out, sooner or later. =]

And if he doesn't remember, why not just slip out of it?

Well, that'd be dishonest.

And it wouldn't really do anyone any good to give up.

In other news; I stumbled over this Facebook Page - if you want to check it out, you should. If not, do your usual thing and skim / read along until whatever your purpose here serves to present itself.

I had a nice day with my mom and younger brother. Aside from the rough morning, though, it was one of the few moments one would cherish before zipping up to head off to be away for quite some time.

Also, I've been watching Skins, the British television program with the teenagers and their antics. I'm about three seasons in, and it's been killing me. Hahah. All the captivating scenes keep me, as an audience and interested teenager and aspiring performer, wanting more. It helps that a few of my friends like to converse of the show as well.

Well, I'm not advocating it or anything, but I've just been watching it, and it got me thinking about some personal stuff.

Everyone's dejected and has got their baggage.

What's yours?

. . . What are you going to do with it?

And where are you headed with it?

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

* ABSENCE of AWARENESS * [ losing time ] ; >> a lapse of /P/E/R/C/E/P/T/I/O/N/ :: [ losing time ]

Ultimate-Guitar : Unlock Hidden Finger Tension
[ open in a new tab ]

Just think about it.

I'm massaging my muscles while I sit and read this.

My hands have been locking up a bit too often as of late; and Erik showed me this, so thank you Erik.

Almost done reading, I think. Hopefully it helps more than I'm already expecting it to.

{ BECAUSE . i`ll never * L E T ` T H I S ` G O . { //but// ican`tfindTHEWORDS [ to tell you ]

Paramore - "Let This Go"

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thumpthump thump. Thumpthump.

Rustling.

Green everywhere. Above your head, right next to your eye - it's everywhere. And the harsh beams of light that manage to dart through the overhead foliage do not befall upon you as gracious as you'd imagine.

In fact, they put your life in jeopardy.

Nearly as much as breathing would.

You lay prone. Your body is stiff and rigid, and it's near-impossible to see past this brush you've hidden behind. On your person, you've nearly enough to tend to the wounds of everyone on this planet, enough anesthetics to neutralize a herd of berserk beasts, and a mind wise enough to guide them all to tranquility.

But, of course, it isn't your job.

A twig snaps.

Your thoughts freeze.

Thumpthump. Thumpthump.

Breathing will get you killed.

The set of boots clamor by, hissing as they dislocate the dead leaves. You peak up, hoping that your eyes do not meet the end of a hollow nose of iron and darkness. Most to concern you would be the gunpowder and metal that lie within.

Instead, it is a familiar face beneath a familiar shield. He is crouched and his stern jaw clenches, forcing a twitch of his cheeks. He is stifling a smile for he knows that you are a good friend and have his back. Unfortunately, that's more than enough of his concern to maintain focus and make sure nothing happens to either of you, along with the rest of your company.

Time to move.

Thumpthumpthump thump.
Thumpthump thumpthump.
Thumpthumpthumpthump.

Ducking, dodging, swaying, bobbing,
Glancing, fretting, waving, breath-robbing:

Your sprint is exactly that: a sprint. Not a bee-line, but you dive behind a tree along with your friend from earlier. His helmet clacks, a weaker version of the means of damage on his person; he looks over to another tree, where you can spot a well-hidden ally, prone on the ground. His rifle is stuck between the trunk of a tree and the hedge alongside him, poised and prepared.

Silence.

The clicking of tongues.

The signal to keep on.

More boots to crash against the sodden earth. A dew remains on this part, deeper in the forest. The incline of the hill is visible. A horizontal sweep of your vision garnered that the enemy must have been lying in wait at the top of the hill. Your troop has orders from the tactician, and they are precise. You know what you are doing, though you hadn't the slightest clue of what is to happen.

The only thing you can do is to wish for it to be exactly what you need. Nothing more, nothing less.

The trek up the hill is even more unnerving than all the days prior. Sure, you were seasoned and well-experienced, but every day out in the action was another day your life's put in jeopardy even more than the last.

Five litter the hillside, dancing behind the cover of trees and playing lateral leap-frog - one goes after the other secures the lines. It looks extremely unorganized, though, as you trudge onward, the trees augmenting in width with each passing by, you recall the times when you also had to bob and weave through an obstacle course in such a fashion.

Thankfully, they entrust you with the role that you feel most comfortable with: taking care of others.

Your shoulder quivers. It is then tinged with a bit of dehydration, and you realize that you haven't bothered to pay attention to yourself since the morning began; now later in the afternoon, your morning meal of insubstantial sustenance and barely enough fluids begins to kick at you. Your friend looks over his shoulder, hearing your pace slow. So long as you are not struck with a bullet, it's reason to keep on going.

At the head of your company of seven, there is an order to halt.

You listen.

Thumpthump.

The silence.

Thump.

A breeze.

Thump thumpthump.

Your eyes tremble as you feel fatigue catching up with you once again. Even the artificial energy infused in your cells from this morning's brew does not seem to hold you out.

You crawl into a tight crouch and quickly take a sip from the canteen on your person. Once that is done, you look down the length of the hill.

There is no clear pathway - only fallen branches and large heaps of deadened leaves. It'd be more difficult charging up than it would sprinting down.

Your ears perk. There is a whistle on the wind.

You look about with quick, calculated eyes. No birds in sight - in fact, they know well to keep away from here unless they are not afraid of the "Lead Rain". If only someone would have told you some kind of news like that.

Inspecting each and every member of your team, you find that they are all okay. All five of them. Including yourself, there would be six.

There are seven in your company.

You lean discretely to inspect the crevices of leaning trees where you can see from behind your buddy.

Still the six of you.
 
Your eyes race back down the hill to see nothing but the shrubbery and vines.

Only two had fallen earlier in the month, and another three gone to aide another troop. That brought your original count of twelve down to the present number of seven.

Your eyes idly travel up the length of a tree to find a leg dangling off the side of a branch.

Thump.

Don't breathe.

A nudge against your left arm. It startles you, though your sharp inhale goes unheard. You don't want to rip  your eyes from this mysterious silhouette, though attention to your squad is much more important.

You turn your head to see that your buddy is urging you to follow. You turn back to look at the tree, and he follows your line of sight.

He clicks twice, rapidly, with his tongue. The rustling of the company's boots stop.

This is a stranger.

Thump thump thump thump.
Thump thump thump thump.

You can hear his breathing after a while, a light snoring that is unwelcome in such a setting. Someone raises their rifle, attentive, while the others maintain the surrounding area. Attention goes to the individual who stalks over to you, and holds up a palm. His hand quickly slides parallel the width of his torso once.

Sign.

He doesn't understand.

You hold up your hand, subtle but visible: index finger to thumb with the remaining extended.

You understand.

With a swift hand, you relay your thoughts into non-verbal communications.

Right hand to sweep over your left wrist, a circle to hold to your right eye, and then an extended hand to start at your forehead and end, contracted, at your chin.

The enemy sniper is asleep.

He quickly peeks to your buddy who was earlier telling you to come on.

He repeats two of your signals, but then adds a third for his orders.

An arm by his shoulder, jutting his thumb in a direction.

Enemy sniper. Cover this area.

Your buddy gives the signal both you and the troop spreads out.

A thunderous roar rips through the entire biota.

A shot rings true to the surprise of war.

It's a shot that strikes the leg in the tree.

Your platoon quickly dives for cover, watching as the sniper in the tree howls from the rude awakening. Fortunate for him, he is struck with another bullet before his body hits the ground.

This concerns you and your lieutenant.

You all scurry for better poises to retaliate fire, and before you can find this formidable sniper, you hear a cry ring out from far below on the hillside.

The voice is unmistakably familiar.

You leap to your feet and sprint.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

It would have done well to eat a bit more earlier in the day.

Your surroundings blend into a rather disgusting medley of earth tones. Something you've gotten used to for a good handful of years.

It's molded you, much like the prints your boots leave behind as you trample down the hill.

Someone's roaring in anger after you for sprinting recklessly. Someone's roaring at you for being an enemy and being alive. Someone's roaring in anguish and agony for still being alive.

Your biggest concern is to get to that person.

You leap over a bush and continue onward.

Bullets splash into the dirt in your wake. A glance over your shoulder is just as promising as breathing.

Breathing will get you killed.

Your energy flees from you. Each pump of your arm as you awkwardly pin the tote closer to your body and keep your helmet fastened to your head. Sweat riddles the contours of your grime-layered face as you plunge into another bush, this time tearing through it with your legs. They burn from the intensity of this run, something you've had to do nearly every day but can never truly be prepared for at all times.

Your damp boots slip on the dried grass. Your recovery is to merely collapse over by the tree and the brush where you had last left your spot-man. He writhes, the pain evident on his face. Flipping him over gently, you do your best to conceal you both as you look around. Your eyes have been rumored to be the best in your entire platoon - which is why you are pleased with helping save lives rather than helping take lives.

Being a sniper would be too much on your conscience.

The man looks at your leg, and finds that you are impaled just as he.

But, not from a bullet - instead, a meter-long stick is jutting out from the muscle of your calf. You had been entirely enveloped in the sprint to keep your life and to save a life that it completely passed with the burning of lactic acids.

But, nevermind you: a stick would come out. A bullet wouldn't.

You work fast. Your hands do not tremble for you are certain with your motions. Every cloth you pull out, every motion your muscles participate in: it all is something you've lived for, to this very day.

He's stable.

Thumpthumpthump.

Thump. Thump. Thumpthump.

You look to your own leg. Something about it is grizzly and surreal, though you work quickly to pull the branch which had plunged itself into your leg.

Wrapping that up, you console your seventh platoon-member that everything's alright and update them on the matter.

He would be kept in a sling for a few days until they managed to get a flight for him.

A cough riddled your throat and rocked your chest.

The next morning, you find that you are in a room. The ceiling is porous. There are soft, fluorescent lights that add to the airy atmosphere.

Just like the day before, when you had opened your eyes, there is a beam of light shining into your eyes.

This one comes a bit later from your initial sight, but it is there. Behind it is a murky silhouette.

"If you would be so kind as to sit up for me, then?" 

A pat on your right forearm. Your skin feels clammy, as though you hadn't showered in months.

You shift in your bed. Your vision hazes for a bit, and you feel a bit light-headed. Something eerie happens, wherein you see a familiar face on the man with the stethoscope about his neck. Alongside him is a tray with several, vital-sign inspectors. Your limbs are connected to wires, though where these wires lead up to are beyond the visage of your lead-eyelids. There is a cool breeze that constantly dances into your nose.

That drink you just had from your canteen seems to have been gone as well.

Your throat is sore. You wish to request another drink, and you realize then that you are much more mellow than you were a minute ago.

A few faces come into the room to visit you.

The doctor dismisses himself and his voice is drowned out, as though you are submerged in an overriding sensation of life.

They look familiar to you.

Your brother.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His wife. 

Thump. Thump.

Your niece.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Not by him, but from your sister.

Thump. Thump.

On his hand is a glint of gold. On her hand is a glint of gold.

Thump. Thump.

In your niece's hand is a raveled myriad of papers.

Thump.

On each of their faces is a smile.

It's contagious: it reaches your lips.

You inhale, seeing your chest rise.

Breathing will get you killed.

They fade from your visage.

The room turns blurry.

Your heavy eyelids set.

You exhale and fall asleep.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump thump thump.

Thump. Thump.

Thump.

It's Monday. You know who likes Mondays? Garfield does. =D

If you don't know who Garfield is, you might want to reconsider your lifestyle choices and living setting.

Anyway. Today isn't blogday, but I've been chatting with a lot of friends today. And there's been a lot of ground covered. I don't come armed with a hefty arsenal of insight or anything, no. Just a few requests.

Well, I'm well aware of the concept of social media websites and networking and all of that. If you haven't noticed by now that I'm quite literally all over the place, you might want to take a look at this.

The fact that I have a Pinterest should be enough evidence.

Right. That being said, I've got a few things to share - outlets for certain persons, if you will.

I've known her for quite some while, and she's been a great inspiration to me, along with many of the other individuals in my life. But, this one I know better than a confidant and a fellow Gaian: I call her Blu, and oft I don't even think of her being identified as anything else because the name has such a great impression on me. Hahah. Normally I get to make fancy and ridiculous nicknames for people, but she's earned her keep - she's earned the reservation of my creativity for other fashions, I suppose you could say.

Jennifer Bentley.

Did I spell it right? I'm too lazy to go on Facebook to find you. Hahah.

So, yeah. She's a great artist, and we were talking about school and the works. In doing so, she whimsically tossed out a solution to a dilemma: to become a famous webcomic-artist and just eradicate all of her concerns.

Me being the appreciative individual I am told her not to do it and that she should just go home and curl up in a ball, never to see the light of day again.

Oh, also, I've a new station on Pandora.
I love this thing so much.

If you don`t like my music, that`s okay; I never wanted to persuade you, only to enlighten you.

If you can't access it, then it's okay. Only a bunch of Black Keys, Mumford and Sons,

Band of Horses, Peter Bjorn and John, and the works. <3 

So, yeah. She went on a spree of ingenious and we established the idea which her foundation would find hold - she would start the makings of her webcomic and we'd find a way to manage her time and the works. Only because she's such a fantastic person and an amazing artist. If I had some of her arts on hand, I'd show you. Only one I can think of at the ready would be a headshot she drew of my avatar a bit ago.

ISN'T IT PRECIOUS? WHAT. THE CUTENESS.
I'M SO SORRY, ME. I DIDN'T MEAN TO FRIGHTEN YOU. YOU CAN GO BACK TO BEING SO DAMN ADORABLE.

Ah... Hahaha..... ^^;;

But, yeah. She's done many different kinds of drawing and painting and stuff; as most artists like to expand their capabilities, she's just like them, if not better than most of the ones I know. [ Probably best competitor I know would be Frost. The two of them would make such a great duo. ]

And I'd love to see the awesome stories she'd make come to life. Excite? Excite.

Next is one of my good buddies Alex Quow. If you don't know him, then you might want to read up a bit. Catch up on some older entries and get a feel for this guy.  Cause there's no way I can describe him in one entry, let alone one word.

Actually, I can:

Quow.

=] See, Alex? And I told you you'd have to make it mean something now. o wo They'll all be wondering what it means. ;D

Anyway, as much as we've been through, it's not a surprise I've found myself speaking to him absently and the two of us going back and forth with our own dilemmas. One of his lines made me come over here and write this, but I forgot what it was. Let's see if I can find the progression.

OH.
IT WASN'T SOMETHING HE SAID.
Okay. Nevermind.

BUT, BUT! Before you go and think he's absolutely worthless [ sometimes he is, because he'll go on about something or another and I'll be completely oblivious as to its relevancy ] he had a few good lines!

That's right! More than one! Hahaha. I kid, Alex. <3

"That's why I like James [ my younger brother who turns 10 in a few weeks ] so much, ya know? In all seriousness, he is still oblivious to the troubles around him - very much like I was. [ It ] just sucks that someday he has to take them head-on. Like you are now. Like, when we played ball at your house that day, and I practically I felt torn; when Drue [ our friend ] and the others went to quick check and you were showering, I think, I was sittin down there with James still depressed as hell, and he was like 'ALEX IM GONNA BEAT YOU IN SMASH BROS.' Made me smile. Even though everything was falling apart."

I was on it all day, how frenzied and frantic I was about life, about how all the expectations put on me from one person would fry my future to weld on the ground or something. Of course, it had to be my concern to admit what I probably wouldn't normally; I wouldn't let my younger brother just "take [ things ] head-on" - I'd lead him along the way.

If I didn't want this pressure put on me, I'd just as well not have it pushed to anyone else.

And this was after our talk of college, what was to happen afterward, and the unseen disbelief that tickles at our seemingly indomitable auras of youth - their sources? Well, you look at your life and see where your greatest stress comes from; that'll be your substitute of understanding for our sources. Hahah.

And, of course, it's never just that easy to chop it off like dead weight and drop it at your side. Sometimes that can be the case, but you have to do what you have to do to keep on keeping on.

There's no other option, there's only doing.

I found this markerboard in a tumblr post a few days ago and it had a few awesome quotes. Let's see if I can find it.

Look at it. Or don't. Either way, they'll influence your life somewhere along the line.

So, yeah. That was pretty cool.

It's always around Alex where my insight actually forms into coherent and practical notions. Hm.

Lastly, I've mentioned her before - even wrote an entire entry about her; Nicole Pastore.

She had her graduation party, and it was delightful [ for the remainder that we arrived for ]. Hahah. After a rather interesting night, we made it there, slipped in through the French doors in the back, and jumped into the dance circle with the rest of the life. It was awesome, and just like everyone else, we're proud of her.

So, if you recall the entry about her, you know about You Are Loved. If you don't, then here you go:

Another link? Well, this one's actually a lot more useful than you actually think it might be.

Even if you're not suicidal, never have been, or have recently conquered it, you'll need to take a look at it.

See the "Calendar" tab?

Good. What month is it?

Right now, it's July.

Is it August when you're reading this, instead? Maybe March?

Doesn't matter. It's called a Calender for a reason. =]

Find the month you're in, and do the deed. Feel free to take a picture and upload it to wherever you'd like. Just getting the word out is more than enough.

July :: Get car paint and, on the back of your car, write a short, positive message or draw the You Are Loved Symbol.

 Even if you don't have a car or whatever, you should find a way to brandish the mark. I wanted to do the June one, but I never got the chance to get chalk. Doesn't matter, I'll do it anyway.

So, yeah. Usually I leave you with a challenge, but I just left a web of connections and thoughts. If you've got anything to say, feel free to share - there's always an open ear to listen and a free set of eyes to read whatever you've got. And even if you don't have anything to say, there's always something bound to happen in your life to make an impression on your thoughts.

Don't let words, thoughts, appearances, or sentiments drag you down.

You're stronger than what you're made of.

You've a body and a mind. Use them together.

"Some people in life got it really easy. Think: if we can take this now, imagine what we gonna be like in 20 years."

- Alex

That's the optimism I've taught you, buddy. =]

<3 ~ Monty.

=]