Why do I only write once a month?

I'm sorry to myself for not writing in a very long time.

Anyway...

I just finished watching the best sequel ever made (Godfather 2). Upon finishing it, I've realized two things from it. One: everyone dies...Two: I love my parents very much.

On the first issue, Michael is discussing with Tom about killing one of their enemies. When Tom tells Michael that it would be impossible to kill him, Michael responds by telling him, "Throughout time, history has taught us one thing: everyone can be killed."

This qoute made me feel very small. I'm getting ready to leave my home for a very long time and go to a culture that is the exact opposite of mine. There are 1.3 billion people in the country where I'm visiting, and they all have thier own problems. I say this because not 20 minutes ago, I was tossing in my bed with thoughts bouncing off of the walls in my head. As I lay, I was making a list of things I had to do the next day, which I'm sure everyone has done many times before....and a thought occured to me: how do my stress and errands and headaches pertain to everyone else? How many times has someone else thought this before? Then I got mad at myself because I had an unoriginal thought and now I'm writting it down in this blog. With that said, what is it that I need to worry about? It's obviously not what I'm worrying about now.

Secondly, I feel that the answer to my question lies in my parents. I have great parents. Moving back in with them this summer has truly helped me appreciate just what they do for me. So how does the first thought relate to the second? Why did I have to watch Godfather Part II to realize these things?

Well, as I age, I realize more and more that my parents are just like me (or I'm just like them). I'm sure they've thought the same thoughts on a restless night when they were young adults about to enter the world on thier own. How do they make their mark on a planet with 5 billion people? Are they (am I) destined for mediocrity? But I think they have it figured out. They took that question that night they thought about thier impact on Earth, and answered it when they had children. Their impact on this earth is me, it's my sister. Your parents impact on this earth is you. They have turned a selfish, cold question into a very selfless, warm one. They have given everything for me and are prepared to give even more.