Oh, the irony.

What I found hilariously ironic is that my last blog has gotten as many collective comments as anything I've written in the last month. People saying that it's well-written, deep, thought-provoking. Frankly, when I reread it, I immediately got the urge to go back and edit the whole thing, dreck. It's almost pathetic that people seemed so taken with that piece. I spew these random bits of my philosophy constantly, in everyday conversation. I did not write anything new, revolutionary or groundbreaking. Every person who read that has seen the exact same ideas as in that blog a million times before on bumper stickers, t-shirts and posters. The only thing about my unrefined dreck that caught people's attention was passion. Nothing more. That post was badly written, hardly eloquent and disorganized, that was just what happened when my fingers started moving. The only reason anyone responded was because I was writing powerfully about what I was saying. I find it sad that more people can't find what they are passionate about in every day life. I personally am very passionate about everything I do.

Passion is the only difference between a life and an existance. Try it.

My friend wrote this and I feel it's just screaming to be seen.

"Passion is what it all comes down to. Passion is what makes English teachers out of Harvard graduates and brain surgeons out of high school thugs. Passion is the aerobics that keep the soul from getting flabby. Passion is what makes children weep at funerals and grown men sob when Sonatina No. 4 comes on NPR radio."