When I Start Any Book, I Have

<...> Though He Found That If You Are Stupid Enough To Bury A Camera Underground You Won't Be Taking Many Pictures With It Afterwards. Thus The Story Has No Picture Book For The Period May 10, 1991 - January 7, 1992. But This Is Not Important. It Is The Experiences, The Memories, The Great Triumphant Joy Of Living To The Fullest Extent In Which Real Meaning Is Found. God It's Great To Be Alive! Thank You. Thank You.

But Now That I Was Finally Here, Standing On The Summit Of Mount Everest, I Just Couldn't Summon The Energy To Care.

There Is Something Special About A Quiet Untouched Forest That Just Pulls You Into The Moment. Something That No Parks Will Ever Be Able To Achieve. Isn't That What We're All Searching For In Life? To Just Be Happy And Content In The Moment, To Just Be There In The "now"?

The Endless, Agonizing Recycling Of What Might Have Been, Soon Followed By A Litany Of Rationalizations And Self-deceptions As You Struggle To Reconcile The Void Between The Person You Want To Be And The Person You Fear You Are.

It Is True That I Miss Intelligent Companionship, But There Are So Few With Whom I Can Share The Things That Mean So Much To Me That I Have Learned To Contain Myself. It Is Enough That I Am Surrounded With Beauty.