Dear America,

Do not call my generation stupid.
We were the first group of kids to learn a computer.
Think about that society: A group of kids learned this intricate machine.* Yes, I'm talking about the O.G. Apples with the green type where you had to save with a floppy disk and if you put a magnet to the screen it went purple forever.
Yes those, same kids grew up and created everything you see before you now.
Everyday.

Do not call my generation ignorant.
In a short time span of years, as children, we learned about oral relations with interns and terrorist attacks.
From Clinton's impeachment to the World Trade Centers/Pentagon/Flight93 Somerset.
As children we learned; emphasis on the children part.
Our minds grew knowledgeable of a world at hand long before society gave us credit.
We grew up.

Do not call my generation lazy.
When we were sixteen and just received our license, gas rose to the highest it had ever been in our country's history.
We got underpaid and  disrespected jobs:
cleaning up bathrooms and serving your foot-longs.
The ability to travel on our own, it was our new found freedom.
Like the early travelers roaming new found lands:
Our wings were spread.

Do not call my generation weak.
We are the same group of people who entered college or the workforce with the worst economic fall since the Great Depression.
You ask, "What did it do to you?"
Buried us in more and more debt until it consumed our life.
But, we became enlightened.
We majestically thrived in the chaotic times by finding out who we are, what we are capable of and that life will take us our journeys before we even see it coming.
The light still shines even when you are buried the deepest.
It does not matter what you throw at us next.
We will rise and conquer. It's the world's hidden secret.
I'm proud to live in this time.
I hope you are too.
Never giving up is our morale.

Respectfully,

THE PERENNIAL MILLENNIALS.
cc: *(No HashTag Necessary)

Tell me a rumor...
and I will make the room.
Unlock the bolted chain and let me behind that personal door.
Let me sand away the permanent lies off the hardwood floor.
And mop away the whispering dust forever tracking your trails.
Close the curtains, let no light into hidden
within this incandescent room's entrails.
Paint over the walls that would forever talk behind, in front and to the sides of our backs.
Encompassing the lies within the composite concrete cracks.
When you tell a lie; it breaks your mothers back...
I lied, I mean your mothers heart.
Now, restart...
that Rumor with the Truth.

Do not call my generation stupid:
We were the first group of kids to learn a computer. Think about that society: A group of kids learned this intricate machine. Yes, I'm talking about the O.G. Apples with the green type where you had to save with a floppy disk and if you put a magnet to the screen it went purple forever. Yes those. And those same kids grew up and created everything you see before you now. Everyday.
Do not call my generation ignorant:
In a short time span of years as children we learned about oral relations with interns and terrorist attacks. From Clinton's impeachment to the World Trade Centers/Pentagon/Flight93 Somerset. As children we learned; emphasis on the children part. Our minds grew knowledgeable of a world at hand long before society gave us credit. We grew up.
Do not call my generation lazy:
When we were sixteen and just received our license, gas rose to the highest it had ever been in our country's history. So, we got underpaid & disrespected jobs at Dairy Queen and Subways across the land cleaning up bathrooms and serving your foot-longs. Yet, it was for our new found freedom. The ability to travel on our own. Like the early travelers roaming new found lands, our wings were spread.
Do not call my generation weak:
We are the same group of people who entered college or the workforce with the worst economic fall since the Great Depression. And what did it do to us you ask? Bury us in more and more debt until it consumed our life. But, we became enlightened. We majestically thrived in the chaotic times by finding out who we are, what we are capable of and that life will take us our journeys before we even see it coming. The light still shines even when you are buried the deepest.
It does not matter what you throw at us next. We will rise and conquer. It's the world's hidden secret.
I'm proud to live in this time.*
I hope you are too.
Make someone's life better today.

"Asisstant!", I shouted.
"Yes, sire?", he bellowed.
"Read me the list on the Maturation Process!"
"Ah, I got it right here sire! Right here. Uh, let's see:
Lotion, rub...repeat..."
"Uhh..Assistant, that is the..umm, the wrong---the wrong list. I do believe."
"Oh, oh you said Matur--a--tion.
Under his  breath, "You think a king would need a list for every fraggle thing he does hmphh."
"Asisstant! I do not have all day!"
"Oh, got it sire! I got it right here!"
"Go ahead, read what it says..."

"Ah, hem:
Phase one...
When you are born, you are pure....
"No, no no. Read it how Grandpapa used to read it."
"Ahhh, ahhh, hem:

WHEN YOU ARE BORN, YOU ARE PURE.
The world expects nothing from you,
but your loved ones expect you to be everything.
The cruel trick that nobody tells you:
Only you can decide what you are going to be.
There is no fate without action.
Reaction.
There is no action without desire.
The fire.
There is no desire without love.
Your heart.

Phase two:
You learn appreciation.
Eloquently our superiors call it, "manners".
Manners are what matters most to Man and Her's.
A thank you can change a day.
A helping hand can change a life.
A laugh can lead to a life of love.
It all resides within:
Your heart.

Phase three:
Accepting the cruel world.
Not everyone is the same.  
Not everyone shares.
Not everyone has morale.
Not everyone shares morals.
Ethics, are never prosthetic.
So perfect, your own perfection.
Be you:
For it can be found in your heart.

Phase four:
Ignorance.
We forget what we were taught.
What is this?
We become narcissists,
obsessed with the world around us and how we fit in.
A mix of sarcasim and *******.
Everything is a joke yet all we can think of is ***.
*** without meaning: The best joke of all.

Phase five:
We lie to ourselves.
We forget what our inner-child wanted.
We tell ourselves that this is the correct thing to do,
we are judged on this stick with others surrounded by us.
We create our own manifestation of unruly day in and day out boredom.
We have to listen:
Listen to our hearts saying,
Don't. Don't do this.
Live your dreams.

Phase six:
Accepting of our own death.
We build a life.
Follow a format.
Do this, at this time with this person to be this at this point and so on.
However, if we forget to live: we die.
We must accept the fact that we all will die eventually.
That way we can choose to live.
You will never actually die,
if you open your heart.
For a heart can pass on from person to person.

"Ah, very good asisstant."
"Thank you sire..."
"Now, you're free to go.  Go and live your dreams."

And, as the King sat in his throne.  
The good Asisstant shoved him off the throne and sat in his place.  
They both laughed until they were on the golden tile floor laughing harder and harder...

There we sat barely clothed
at a close distance
With the expected surprise
A broken connection
with hazardous protection
Getting rid of our numb feelings
With a low high
The inception to our world
A love begins-
a drug within-
a calm turmoil.
The tiny elephant in the room that met our demise
Two souls hidden behind true lies
But, the truth lied
Before our four eyes
I handed you the two sterling gold spoons
while I close the blinds in the rooms
Crush a bit, bigger bit...****:
That's my retreat of happiness.
I remember that last look, before we duck our heads to the side,
The last time we are who we really are, stare into my eyes
Before we lose our conscious beings and drift
to the other side...
Oh that bumpy ride...like it's 5am Traffic.
Bumper to Bumper out of lethargic habit.
Your last forced smile before you turned white.
Shaking you I screamed, "Wake up! Please wake up, come back to this side!"
The foam rushed creased out your lips like the sandy morning tide.
With each breath you faintly exhaled, I watched as you died.
I always thought you would have came back from being gone,
It was the oxy that killed you as I watched...
*****.
Omnipotent Kids,
Ignorant God.
We had it all wrong.

Perception:* When your peers begin looking like Mothers and Fathers while you're deciding between Easy Mac or Spaghetti-O's. Don't worry everyone's path is different; there is no need to compare your life to others.
Deception: Where you remember who you were at one point and who you wanted to become, but the world has plans you to be someone else. Just follow the opportunities.
Life's Inception: Following your dreams that will lead to another dream that will proceed to take you to dreams you never could have imagined.
Immaculate Reception: The apotheosis moment when all your hard work becomes noticed. The key is to never be satisfied.
Exception: If someone gave you a 1/7,000,000,000 chance you would not take those odds. Now what if it was on yourself?
*Be it.

So you're in your early twenties.
Two decades and some change down.
Life isn't going as you expected.
You don't live in a studio apartment above the skyline in Manhattan
and your Friends names aren't Ross, Phoebe or Joey.
You blame the economy for your lack of currency and inability to move.
You remain comfortable, because that is what feels okay.
Now, let's stop making excuses.
Realize that your in your early twenties:
It's the perfect supersonic boom of an age.
You are young enough where you still have your morals from adolescence
and have yet to be tainted or jaded by the real world.
Don't worry so much about what your diploma says.
Use what you already know: your ethics, ideology, art form of life
to create something useful within this world.
Be you, not because Drake says you only live once, but because it is common sense.
Don't sit around and wait, hope or pray for something to happen.
It is finally your time to make it happen.
Go out and fail.
For failure is the first step to success,
because you're one step ahead of everyone else
by trying, by risking, by attempting to go out of the comfort box.
So on this very day:
Let's make it happen today.
God, Buddha, Yahweh, Your Krypton Alien Dance or
Whatever You May Believe In--Bless bros & broettes.
Peace.

Hi, it's me again.
Craig.
I ask for you, the reader, to hang-out.
As you and your friends read with enjoyment at my miserable life that I have created.
You have read my ad a dozen times,
"Hey! My name is Craig and I just moved to this town and am looking for friends to hang out with.  I am interested in sports, talking about anything and going out at night.  I'm a relaxed guy who is into meeting new people."

The truth is:

I was never very good at sports.
I got one hit in my little league career that my Dad would forcefully take me to each game.
I never understood why reading was, "the stupid choice" as he would say whilst dragging me by the collar of my baseball jersey.
Instead of playing a sport where a young boy with not nearly respectable motor-skills
would proceed to hurl a ball as fast as he could at me.
But, when I got my one hit I stood there in shock and immediately
got thrown out before I even made it half way to first base.
That was stupid.

I do not really talk all that much.
In college they nick-named me, "****** Craig".
As you can tell, I did not go to Creative College University.
I liked studying and would spend most of my nights in the library fixated on chemical engineering.
I always thought if I studied hard enough I would be able to create my own friends through different variable compound genetics.
It did not work out.
And that is the story of how I mutated my gerbil...

I have no friends to go with at night, except Butterball.
She's my eight year-old tabby cat.
I tell her all the gossip in the world when we watch "The Soup" together.
Her personality is rather complacent.  
She does not understand the irony in Kanye West naming his child North.
I know she is just being stubborn.

I often Google search Images for Kate Upton.
She does not know it yet, but we are perfect for one another.
I can tell.
There is this feeling I get when I bring one of her pictures into photoshop
and count all the pixels that make up the perfect woman.
There are seventy-four pixels within the iris of her eye where her soul lies.
Each one unfolds into the life we will soon have one-day...

I order the same pastrami on rye sandwich
from the same deli
at the same time
every Tuesday and Friday of each week in hopes
that they will get excited when I walk in.
I leave them a dollar tip
each time
even though I am picking it up myself.
They still treat me like an average customer.
A simple nobody.

I have the face people want to punch.
I often will get into fights by simply just standing there.
It does not add up or make coherent sense.
It seems as though people revert back to primal instincts when they drink alcohol.
Suddenly this area in line at McDonald's is this guys main priority.
I politely back away and him and his five high-school buddies cut in front of me.

To the entire world:
I am ordinary.
There is nothing worse in this life than being ordinary.
But, to some person at some special point:
I will be extra-ordinary.
And I will have the appreciation for that person that no other one person can ever understand.
Because, that person who finds me will have saved a life.
My life will restart anew with that love.
Thank you.

Sincerely,
Craig-
*********
Location: Everywhere your eyes will judge.
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

May my ignorance blind me.

For I'm a product of the 90's,
Instead of being like Jesus,  
we all wanted to be like Mike.
Is that facetious?
Or sound just about right?

Right...? No Left,
Child Act Behind...
they say my dyslexia forever disrupts mind...
my...mind...
He yells louder,
"Why am I wasting my time
with you Brock?
You don't want to learn,
God ******!
Quit staring at the clock!
Now go on read the sentence
and annunciate on that last word,
don't overestimate the time,
It is not going to move any faster..."
There I sat boiling, as he wagged his finger in my face as he stood behind,
tempting me to call upon my intrepid Power Ranger besieged mind.
I would cut his head off with a swoosh of my sword,
sparks go flying and down goes Zedd-Lord.  
"God ******, Brock it's Lord-Zedd!" , I shouted in my own head.

So, in my imagination;
I still cannot properly read.
Where will this get me?
No where fast...
I work continually, properly, systematically, honestly, legitimately, every way I can to learn every word I  want to know.
That's where I want to Go.

Like I said, I'm a product of the 90's.
A whole generation discovered off the product of:
I find me.
Instead of having the powers given to us, we worked for them.

And that is the difference between Jesus and Jordan.
And that is the difference between Jesus and Jordan.
And that is the difference between Jesus and Jordan.

May my knowledge open eyes.

Personals:*
Single Man Interested in Women: Looking for love.
Single Woman Interested in Men: Looking for love.
Single Man Interested in Men: Looking for love.
Single Woman Interested in Women: Looking for love.
Single God Interested in Humans: Looking for them to love and be loved.*
___________________­

What I don't seem to understand is...
before you become a man and
everyone cradles you,
holds you by the hand and
fills your thoughts with these dreams and aspirations,
(no exaggerations...just genuine life expectations)
but nothing is impossible,
you are fresh.
Not to death, but from birth.
A brand new mind that has yet to be tarnished.----

Through adolescence,
you start to learn adult lessons.
Cowboys are no longer real...
President's have to wear a tie!
And if I become a stuntman...
then I'll probably die.
I can't be a wrestler on TV if I actually fought?
I need...what!?...on my SAT's to become an astronaut?
Reality, Gets In.
Our Ways, Set In.
Goodbye Dreams,
Goodbye Imagination.--

"Today you are eighteen years old,
you are an adult."
God, do I hate the way they say that.
An elongated "u" as if emphasizing the key component that I am an, "adddduuuult"
Then to agitate my irate sense of frustration they ask my for my declaration:
"Now, just what you want to do for the rest of your life???--
You don't have time to think.
This is it, hurry.
Choose.
Now!
Did you figure it out? No...?
Now you're already behind!
Wasting mine and your own time.--"

Time...the only thing that remains omniscient.
Time...the real gift to represent the present.
Time's up.
School's over.
Time to get a job, a good ole' nine to five.
But, I can't listen to that:
For I know that it's lies.
I know sitting in an cubical in an office drinking water from a cooler pretending to be cooler
will be my own personal demise.

I believe everybody has hopes and dreams.
From the oldest person alive to addicted drug-phenes.
Never write a person off by social means.
Never let the American Dream become the American Scheme.
All of us have our own devine-mind.
Life's a playground, don't *** on the slide.
Re-capture that child-like spirit.
If they tell you: You Can't.--
Don't Hear It.
Jump out of the line!
As the rest watch from behind.
No more: Stress.
No more: Fear.
Disregard all: Turmoil.
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."

.Peace.

When I was born I asked the doctor, how he thought he did?
He recalled,
"Exquisite, it was a perfect delivery."
I rebutted,
"Then why am I still attached to the umbilical chord?"
He snipped me away from the tangling sheathe preventing me from exploration.
I leapt off the crinkling hospital bed paper and onto the goose-bump extracting tile floor.
Playfully bobbing my head as I walked into the world whilst giving the blonde doe-eyed nurse a crumpled note arranging what time I would pick her up for
dinner that night.
--Nurses enjoy being taken care of too.

When I was in preschool my teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up.
I told her, "I want to feel the love of a woman who makes me happy everyday and loves me for being me."
She under cut my desired fate, "That's not a something you can work for."
I whispered in her ear, "I know you have never felt love from another person."
She began to cry.
I told her, "That tears are just water for her soul to grow."
She got married later that spring after the rain had stopped,
--Her soul grew enough to show.

When I was seven years old a neighborhood bully stole my bicycle.
I cried for four minutes.
I was angry for about an hour.
Instead of telling him that my dad could beat up his dad
I began to wear my helmet everywhere I went.
I shouted to the other boys in my class,
"I had an invisible superb-deathly speedy-extraordinary-intergalactic- bike."
Two weeks later that same bully gave me my bike back.
As he relentlessly rubbed his knuckles into the top part of my scalp I thought nothing, but that this is the reason why my Grandpa went bald.
Then he muttered through his wheezing breaths of anger,
"My invisible bicycle was much faster than anything your ***** daddy could have bought you."
--Dad's, they love hypothetical fighting.

When I was eleven years old two airplanes hit two buildings in New York City.
I did not understand.
I asked my teacher, "Why would God make evil people?"
Through her tears she explained to me, "Some people are just born evil."
I shouted under my breath, "People are not born evil...
implementing ideas in the sponge of a youth's mind is what is morally corrupt and evil!"
--Corruption is the first cause of terrorism.

When I was fifteen years old I had my first real serious girlfriend.
I did not understand, again.
I exasperated to my father over drinking our first father-son beer,
"How do I know when I love a woman?"
He nostalgically took a drag of his menthol cigarette and as the smoke made it's way through his nose like fog in a canyon he said to me,
"Whenever you look into her eyes and know that there is nothing you wouldn't do for her, that is love."
Before he could reach down and crack another pilsner I told him,
"Dad I look a little lower than her eyes and that is where... everything I would do to her."
--Hormones are a *****.

When I was twenty-one years old my mom told me I couldn't come back home after I graduated college.
I begged her to give me time. I will make it, I promise.
I shouted in the driveway with all my belongings she had neatly placed for me to pack into my car, "How do I know when I am ready to be on my own?"
She didn't have to say anything for there was a brown envelope on top of my neatly folded clothes; that mysterious folding method all mom's know but I
could never seem to figure out,
"Son, you won't know. You won't know until you are poor, hungry, cold and exhausted everyday from trying to make something of your life. The character
you will build will help you later in life when you have a family of your own. I promise. I am not a tyrant, I care too much to see you widdle away here with me
in obscurity and waste all the dreams I know you have. I love you my baby."
--Mom's, even though they don't cut the umbilical chord...they cut the umbilical chord.