Yep! I need to make a good logo for 'general' so everything will have a uniform look and feel. Just felt like writing last night at 2am when, by the act of the gods, I was wide awake after a dose of nyquil. Was reading random stories on the internet, and one page hit me so hard that everything I wrote seemed to be directly related to the following link. This was what I kept, and I dont mean to preach, but please love all living beings and may whoever sees, touches, remembers, or even thinks or talks about this page never be born in the lower realms, receive only perfect human rebirths, meet a perfectly qualified Mahayana virtuous friend, and quickly achieve Guru Buddha's enlightened state."This is happiness" the young mother told her toddler. She had just gotten engaged to a man she called Mr. Perfect. He would take her out to dinner, play with her child even though it was not his, and treat her like a gem. "This is happiness" she spoke again, while holding her childs hand and waving goodbye to the life she was getting away from. Away from the slums, into the subburbs. "Hell, I might even have a Suburban" she said, and then scolded herself for swearing around the child. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out. Cant get out of here fast enough. The air is heavy with the dank odor of despair, of lost hopes and shattered dreams. She grits her teeth, knowing she would be gone soon. Her fiancee comes home and runs to the back step and gives the child a big hug and asks what was going on. The child coos gently. Another gunshot. "Better go inside" he said. Out of nowhere, the young mother screams. Shot in the stomach, bleeding gently like her words. Never hurt anybody in her life, wrong place, wrong time. Her fiancee, after checking on her, goes and runs into the street to see if he can spot the car where the bullet came from. Pop. Pop. Two more. He hits the ground like a ferret escaping a cage, crawling as fast as he can to the sidewalk. The toddler simply looks up to the sky, as if asking a rhetorical question to the god that lets crackheads live, drug dealers prosper, yet kills the innocent. His ghostly whisper of a voice manages to push out the words his mother just spoke, while hiding his tears.. "This is Happiness". "This is happiness".http://www.csvr.org.za/articles/artfamur.htm