So I'm here again, sitting on my bed in the early morning hours typing away at my keyboard, living. I love my life.

I've come to realize that life is found in those few hours in the day you squeeze in between work, school, girls, boys, or what have you. Living is those moments in the bookstore, when there's a million other things you should be doing, but you just stay there and browse because you want to.

It's those extra minutes you sit in the cafe, talking with your friends even though you've got someplace else to be.

Life is not found in books, degrees, promotions, or raises. It's in those spare moments, on your best days and on your worst, when you can simply sit back and feel. Have a cold drink after a hard day, eat a good meal on your day off.

It's good to be alive. It's good to understand death as a trasition, and to really start to believe in the immortality of the soul. When you know what's going to happen, at least to some degree, it adds some comfort.

It's good to be alive. To drink orange juice, and go for a walk, and work, and sleep, and write. I don't always appreciate it like I should. I know this now. But it feels good in these quiet morning hours just to live.