"I don't know what to do anymore. Except maybe die."

You never quite know when you're going to die. Even when you're 80 or terminally ill, death can be unexpected. Today is September 30, the 55th anniversary of James Dean's death. Yet, by the time he died, James had already finished filming 2 big studio movies that would go on to be wildly successful, and not just because he was in them, that year. I always thought that by the time I reached this day (being 24 on September 30), I would have done something notable, something that would leave an imprint on the world. Yet, I haven't. All I've managed to do was squander my parents' money on a useless undergrad degree and rack up a serious debt in student loans. Hell, I can't even seem to get a job for next summer or a date, and everyone else seems to be able to get one or the other, if not both, with relative ease. If I were to die right now, there'd be nothing to put into an obituary or to be said about me at my funeral. Kind of like Plato in "Rebel Without A Cause." Taking stock of one's own life is a funny thing because only you know what your hopes and dreams are and how successful your life really is. I know that I only have myself to blame for my own shortcomings and failures. From here on out, I've got to stop dreaming and start doing. I've got opportunities coming up where I can try to make something happen. Something's gonna give, and when it does, I'll be right there waiting. That way, when I do die, a part of me will live on...forever.