Don't Really Know Where This Goes

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Don't Really Know Where This Goes

Post by Beachatnight » Tue Aug 12, 2003 12:03 pm

I'm leaving for college in a matter of two weeks. So, it got me thinking. Everyone says to go to college so that you can succeed later in life. But then, what exactly is a successful life? What would everyone that reads this classify as a successful life? I'm just curious.

For me, a successful life wouldn't really depend on whether you've done important things or not. It would depend more on whether you've done interesting things or not. I would want to lead an interesting life, one that people could look at and not really admire, just respect. Then, when it was my time to go, I'd want to go out with a bang in a way that people would remember. Family would be nice, but not necessary.

Anyway, what would you consider to be a successful life?

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Re: Don't Really Know Where This Goes

Post by Jaegermeister » Tue Aug 12, 2003 12:47 pm

A life where I am happy, doing what I want to do. I guess a bit of money would be good too, because then I wouldn't have to worry about bills and things.

"What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?" --OSB

"Be who you are and be that well" --St Francis de Sales.

Suaviter et fortiter

Bunches of love Xena.

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Re: Don't Really Know Where This Goes

Post by lash » Tue Aug 12, 2003 3:21 pm

money (enough for the necessities in life and some fun stuff), happiness, friends, family, good job that u love, etc..(u know, the whole 9 yeards)
Turning over in interrupted slumber,

You ponder others, growing ever wakeful,

You've locked the vermin in the other bedroom,

To be so perfect causes you to feel so thankful,

Now find the fault because your boyfriend can't read,

Reflecting on to you is all the bitterness you need,

So unhappy, yet so preoccupied,

Never found beaten down with your forked tongue tied.

Your eulogy is like poetry,

But your mouth is like a magazine.

Queen dependency is cowering, please don't be confused,

You are vacant and submissive, receptive to abuse,

Virtue isn't tangible, and sense of self is dated,

Names constant on your cracked lips are now eviscerated,

Your spine is made of metal, Your veins are bound in electric tape,

And all along an impulse lights at random in your face,

Yough cought up an offering and forget which words are lies,

Then your skull echoes a singeing pop, as your brain is cauterized.

-"Mouth Like A Magazine" Showbread

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