Can you ever really know where you're headed? Just when you think you know where the path is taking you, you end up at a dead end. It becomes draining and a little discouraging realizing that you've got to backtrack and feel like you've wasted time. I suppose though had you never taken that fork would you have realized it was a dead end and it's better to have known that than to always have wondered, still though, it can be aggravating.

Even today I look for a futon cover and it would seem like a fairly easy task, what with Google and all, but to find something that isn't completely ugly or dorm roomy is a bit more of a task than I expected. It's fair enough to say though that trying to make a futon look cool and classy is sort of like celebrating any of the Spears girls as one of our nations most dignified debutantes. Nothing against them persay, but it does sort of seem like an ongoing episode of the Beverly Hillbillies.

Sure, this is a trivial example of life's dead-ends, but big or small we all have to face them. Our character is in our reactions toward those challenges and I just hope I have enough character to get through all of this...futon covers and all.

There are certainly a lot of questions out there in the world, and it really makes you feel small to know you don't know how to answer most of them. Where your life leads you continues to be a mystery even to the most planned and concerned people. If you're like me and you're on the opposite side of the spectrum you feel even more lost...but perhaps even more concerned. I don't want to be another mindless eater and just consume of this world in spite of my non-understanding of it, so I try my best to observe and sometimes without cause...do.

Everyone, everyday has to make choices, some very simple (should I brush my teeth?), some very difficult (where will I eat lunch?) and some very conflicting (should I get out of this very warm and comfy bed ever today?). Sometimes I think the trick is just realizing that it's not the choice you make, but it's the fact that you make the choice. Clarity isn't gained because one decision was right and the other was wrong, but can be gained because you made the decision to move and can take the challenges that come with that choice.

I think it's safe to bet we all want the make the decisions that are best and it would be great if someone could tell us what we should do, but that would take away the independence and the growth of life. Your decisions shape you and form you and how you react to them does so even further, so I hope I always wrestle with big decisions and react well to them. They make your stomach twist and your heart beat faster and those are the ones you know will carve a new part of you...and that shape will be reworked until the end of your life. Hopefully though, you're happy with that form when the time comes and you know you are mostly responsible for it.

Two weekends ago I was in New York City and I have to say it was an experience that's stayed with me for a while. I've been there before with my family and only one other time on my own. The first time it was daunting. The city, so huge and unending felt like a giant concrete headache. It was like the first time I ever drove in Chicago, a scared kid that just wanted to get off the road to gather his wits. Everything moved so fast. This time, however, I was prepared for the vastness and was ready to wrestle this city in some fashion, as if it were my second chance to fight a bully.

My two adjectives to describe that city are deep and thick. As I walked through the giant valleys of buildings, I saw up in the sky that it I should have been warmed by the sun's bright rays, however I was bundled in the shadows of narrow streets. Even residential areas were closely and vertically stacked, this paired with the impressive bridges simply dwarfed Chicago. It doesn't help that the city just goes on forever, crammed blocks of restaurants, shops and bars...and I was just in one of the five Burroughs.

Feeling more prepared, I was able to notice some of the culture that is only what I can assume makes NY so great. The variety of people, the art, the mystery and the ability to get or do almost anything. As a result, I became inspired this trip to inject more culture into my life. I want to see more shows, make more music, create more art and live life more. So, thanks New York, I can see why people heart you so much.

I've been convinced in my life that music makes things more beautiful. Lately, I've been spending time with an old friend...my iPod. As you might know, I go in waves of liking this piece of technology, but overall, I can't argue with it's portability or cuteness.

So, I've loaded on some music and I notice that when I sit on the train or walk through the streets, the tunes I'm listening to become a soundtrack to my own personal movie. Suddenly people look sadder or even in slow motion when I'm listening to Elliot Smith, but if Wilco's on then all of a sudden I've slipped into some independent movie about a talented writer that has deep secrets his asian girlfriend doesn't have a clue about. Or something like that.

Everything is fine until Tool comes on and I feel like I'd be able to stop a taxi by punching it. Regardless of my silly fantasies, music just makes this bland world seem more vivid, more worth giving another chance. When I see thousands of people getting killed in wars and random mall shootings and disease taking over Africa, it makes me want to plug my ears with music and let it paint the world over with better colors. It makes me want to give the homeless person sitting on the street shelter, but why am I only provoked when I have music inside me?

Anyway, just my Friday afternoon thoughts...Muse is on, so I have to go

I've been fortunate, I haven't been around death much in my life, but lately that's not the case. The mother of a good friend of mine passed away suddenly this past week after a brave fight with pancreatic cancer and it's called to attention some thoughts about my own life. Death has a funny way of doing that. I sat at the funeral service hearing about the life of my friend's mom and although I had known her for the past 12 years, I discovered I only knew a small of her. At 57 years of age, she left behind a serious mark on this world and in the lives of her family and friends. The service was a gift to all that attended, to hear about her life and about the significance she made to those around her. If I only walked away with one thought, it would have been, "Impressive".

I have only experienced the exact moment of change from life to not-life once, in the hospital room of my friend Justin after a long battle with leukemia. During his service, I again felt this emptiness of my life. Here were two people who lived extraordinary lives, but they were people, like you and I. It brought me into wondering how many extraordinary people you walk past everyday. And if there are that many extraordinary people, is it just simply ordinary to live exceptional lives. It makes be wonder what people would say about me at my life's end.

Life is amazing. My life and yours, no matter how simple or unimportant you think it is, is amazing. It gives me great appreciation for the creativity in all of us, the passion that lives somewhere within us...maybe it's our soul or spirit, but that life-force in all of us is something special. I am hoping I honor it enough by living worthwhile and making this small dash on Earth the most lovely race I run.