There are so many ambitions in this world and yet the only one I seem to adhere to is the ambition to follow the wordless and incomprehensible musings of my heart – whose muffled and distorted signals tend to drive me to make bold and drastic decisions to compensate for a lack in overall design.

Perhaps I am on the scenic route to my own inevitable end, and perhaps that is the material point!

On the other hand, perhaps I’ve got it all wrong and the point is to build an empire; a family legacy that will provide the means for my many (so far unaccounted for) descendants to do literally whatever they can dream up. Compromise my humanity – sell it to the highest bidder – like the Rockefellers, Hiltons etc – ad nauseum.

Does success amount to a bronze plaque somewhere Important with my name on it?

I muse at times on what I will have I accomplished with my life when I die. At this rate, my headstone will probably say -

Here lies Jozel, a floating philosopher – she didn’t succumb – she didn’t commit

If only she could have bottled the air she was living off of

If I could get a famous poet or two to write on my headstone, it would add intrigue… or poetry… at the very least…

In any case, it definitely will never say -

Here lies Jozel – who succeeded in living 98 years without ever holding a lit cigarette

But by 2081 there won’t be headstones anymore, who am I kidding? They’ll probably be disintegrating my remains to fuel the newest wave of Alternative Reality Social Interaction devices. or something.