I went to a ladies conference recently. The speaker, Stephanie, was so encouraging and motivational.

   She shared with us that her husband of 20 years was diagnosed with cancer, then died 4 days later. I think if I had a terminal disease I would want it to be that way also.

   Living your life in fear, would be terrible. I honestly think I would probably just lose the will to live, rather than live 3 years of my life in misery.

   If the disease had a cure for the early stages, then yes I would want to know early. But, if my diseas was too far for any help, just don't tell me.

   Maybe this sounds stupid to you, or immature, but I would want to live happily, and just waiting to die, that is not happiness.

   I had a dream a few nights ago.

   We were on a beach shooting off fireworks, we rolled around in the sand together and then we kissed.

...of dissapointment.

   We all go through hard times, and experience dissapointment from friends. Let me give you a tale, a tale of a girl who trusted too much.

   There was a girl, a young girl. She had a few really wonderful friends that she loved with all her heart. All she expected of them was honesty, love and dependability for she gave them those things constantly. This girl met a young man, who she loved so very much. They were just friends, but she would gave him the world if he asked it. She wanted nothing more for him than the ultimate happiness.

   This girl and young man had a good relationship for 3 years, a friendship in which she grew-up so much. She matured in ways that should have taken much longer than that short period of time.

   One day he told her there might be a chance for them to be together, she had matured, she was different than she was when they first met. Although she was with another, this gave her hope, for she thought he was wonderful. The other man let her down and it hurt her so much. That night her friend comforted her in a way that made her feel hopeful about life, for she was very emotional and this dissapointment was so deep.

   The very next day, her friend hurt her, he had done something and then kept it a secret from her. At the request of someone who had not been in his life not even a fraction of the time as the girl and when the girl found out, she was devastated. It wasn't the act that cut her so deeply, it was the secret. She was jealous, yes, but the trust that was broken hurt her so much more.

   Was she right in this anger? Or was it misguided?

   Do you ever sometimes have desires that you know are totally wrong?

   I do, and I feel just terrible about them. But also at the same time they excite me.

   Am I totally immoral?

   Self-help books are a kazillion dollar industry. (Kazillion, being a tad exagerated.) Shows like Dr.Phil and Montel and whatever, are watched by jillions of Americans. (Once again...a stretch.)

   Why?

   Are we humans so blind we need someone to tell us what our purpose in life is? And not only that, are we so morally devoid we can't make simple choices without consulting a Doctor?

   When did it become wron to spank your child? When did it become politically incorrect to speak your mind, and make your own choices? When did we start asking everyone around us to take responsibilty for our actions?

   Why do you need to know your lifes purpose? Why can't you just live, and let mistakes happen?

   Life isn't about having each moment planned out, or knowing your purpose, or having each moment and action analyzed.

   Let's just be people again. Let's just let things happen and let the chips fall where they may.

   Let's live again.

   When I blog I usually speak from a somewhat detached point of view. I have opinions, and I express them, but I rarely make it into a "Oh my God!" situation, an "I hate life" situation, an "I love him!!" situation, or an "It's all about me!!!" situation. I never really blog about personal things, none of you know the name of my mother, what kind of clothes I wear, or really, what I look like. I feel like all those things distract you from what I say (which is also the reason I no longer frequent the main tagboard).

    I just send my thoughts out into the void like a letter and sign it,  "Goodnight dear void, Tiffany" .

   I don't blog for Deidre (my only faithful reader(thanks!)), or the people of Blogdrive. I write for myself.

   But, I feel like I have really valid opinions that should be read. Some of the people who are favorites have just awful blogs. I'm not one to ask for a lot of recognition, or toot my own horn, but I mean come on....this blog is well, good.

   I guess this is totally selfish of me, and I don't even know how I would react if I was a favorite, or read more. But again, another thought written to the void.

                        Goodnight dear void, Tiffany

   The Valedictorian of my graduating class died not too long ago. He hada car crash, but I heard that he was suicidal. I don't know what really happened, but I do know this....just because he died, I'm not going to pretend we were best friends.

   So many people are reacting in such a strange way.

   He was not an honest person. He was not a nice person, and in my opinion he did not deserve to be Valedictorian. Every class I had with him, all I remember is him cheating his way through it.

   What is it about death that makes people totally forget the way the deceased lived?

   I'm not trying to speak ill of the dead, but he wasn't that great a person. Do I sound harsh for saying this? I don't remember him as fun, or nice or "the life of the party". I remember him as snobby, two-faced, and rude.

   I'm not trying to be mean, but I wasn't going to go to the funeral. Why would I? He wasn't my friend. We barely even spoke.

   But why did so many other people go? So many other people that he was more rude to than he was to me. Why? If he deserves one last thing, it's honesty.

   But I guess lies are the reality of death.

   Whenever I get a new job, I feel like there is nothing but oppurtunity before me, and that I will make the most of it. But after about a month I start dreading going to work. Shortly after that, I use words like "hate", "terrible" and "annoying", when I describe that job.

   Why am I so restless after such a short period of time?