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Dream a Little Dream of...Bee?

The other night, while I was sleeping in my tent trailer, I was having a really awesome dream. I mean, I don't really remember anything about it now, except for the fact that I was about to win some concert tickets. I was sitting in this bland white room, crowded with people, and then they pulled a name out of the draw and was saying "Happy Blogger, Happy Blogger!" All I was thinking was "I won, I won!", and then I realized that the voice was actually an 'external' voice. It was my sister beside me saying my name. It was about quarter to six in the morning, and she looks at me and says "I think I was stung by something, once on my ear, and once on my side". My initial reaction, was burrow deeper into my sleeping back, and cover my ear with my hair, but then she tapped me and said "Seriously, I think something stung me", so I'm still in my sleepy haze, sans glasses, and I was trying to look around the little trailer for, well whatever could have bit my sister. And then she crawled out her sleeping bag, and I squinted (cause sometimes it helps to see better) and I saw a little yellow and black bug crawling in her sleeping back. Well, geez, I wasn't gonna kill it, so we ended up waking up my father, who went outside and shook out the sleeping bag to find absolutely nothing. After an Advil, and some shifting around the trailer, we were heading back to bed, and I looked at my sister and said "So, I guess this means I didn't win the tickets...?!" She looks at me blandly, and falls back asleep.


I was still overly confused on how we never found it, but still, I bug my sister with the occasional..."Still sleeping with the bees?" and she just stares back and mimics, "HAHA, your soo funny!" Well, I thought it was.
-Happy Blogger

A Little Plate For Something Special...

So far, this summer has been incredibl...ly long...boring. FUN! quiet. LOUD. up, down, splurging out the side, but it always seems to serve up something incredibl...ly nice. Whether it was quick pit stop at the closest restaurant, or burnt marshmellows, in they end, they all seemed to be, Nice.


If any of you have ever, you know, 'washed dishes', yeah, well try it camping! It's not always so inviting, where there is no drain, and the water will spill all over you, and you try to stay as clean as possible, because there are no washing machines close, and you fret about, making a big fuss over the nearing wasp thats whispering thoughts of *buzz* in your ear. So, we did the best we could to try to eliminate this, and we bought little disposable plates.


They were stored away, and we had to go through, well this, until finally, there was an occasion in which we actually used them. There seemed to be a special occassion for my cousin, and there just happened to be a cake, unto which, was dying to be placed on some cheap, plastic, little plates. So, one the day of her Birthday, we pulled them out. Then she blew out the candles (Oops, sorry, no boyfriend) and we cut the delicate little pieces of chocolate plates. Now, you have to understand this; My mother was walking around saying 'Look, they're little plates for something special...' and every other time we seemed to use them, that simple little phrase came into mind.


Well, we had a nice little gathering, where we used our 'little plates for something special', and that phrase just seem to stick. Then you realize that it's the little things that can serve up something truly special. (Corny, I know.)
-Happy Blogger

Good Things Part 1


This week, I'm introducing an ongoing series including memories and recollections pertaining to the good things that have made me happy throughout my life so far. I encourage you not just to simply read it and smile, but think about it and try to recall your own happy memories.

So often, with seemingly everything in the world weighing down on us, we let it get the better of us and convince ourselves that everything is wrong. When that happens you have to remember the good things. You have to remember things that make your lips curl into a grin just thinking about it, things that make you giggle inside, things that make your chest feel warm.

It's hard to think back and remember your first memories. I don't remember much of anything before I was at least 4. I remember the apricot tree in our backyard that my dad made a rope swing for. The rope was white and blue and I used to pretend that I was an explorer and swing across perilous precipices. Sometimes my dad would play soccer with me in that backyard. He'd kick the ball in the air and it would go soooo high, it would practically disappear! And I'd laugh and laugh and I thought my dad was the strongest person in the world. Sometimes he'd go away on a business trip and we'd say goodbye to him at the airport and I'd be sad so he'd cheer me up with a whisker kiss. At the time he had a pretty thick beard and he'd scratch it against my cheek and I'd feel better. I also loved the playground. My favorite was the one I called "the swirly park" because it had a tall, yellow spiral slide. Sometimes we'd go to the lake as a family and I'd love swimming and pretending I was in the ocean, fighting off sharks. We'd play frisbee on the beach and my mom would cook the best smokies ever.



Keep thinking,
- The Sad Blogger

C'est la Vie.

Don't you just love it when you'll be sitting there listening to a song, and you realize that you can really understand what the artist was talking about, or just the feelings they were feeling at the time. That often will happen to me, and I'll sit there and pretend sometimes as if 'Taylor Swift' singing 'You Belong to Me', in hope that Lucas Till will realize that he actually belongs with me. But, no. Never happens. Also, you sometimes wish that you could escape into the world of music, and get lost in the lyrics, and be relieved for a few minutes from the crazy world surrounding us.
What I love about music is, is that it is an international language, and it can bring people together with this similarity of the music that can make us all feel unified. I love how it can change the present mood you are in.

Well, I'm sure that all of you out there have heard of "High School Musical", and I know, if anyone was like me, that they would make fun of the fact that they all just randomly start dancing and singing, and you either think that they are retarded, or your like me, and you wish that you could do that too. Well, I wish that there could be songs that I could make up on the spot, and my whole school cafeteria would join me in singing about how much I hate my lunch, and we go off into a little jazzy routine, which would eventually lead to the over throw of the lunch lady, and everyone would rejoice. But, no. Never Happens. Instead, I sing stupid little 'diddy's' in my head, until I'm sitting there, bobbing my head up and down, and people start staring, oh, yes, the starring is wonderful. Then, I follow with just telling myself, that they are all secretly jealous that I can write a song about how much I hate my lunch, and that they will never have the mental capability of doing that, no. No, they won't. Then I feel better.

We all have secret ambitions in which we all want. And I just want to dance and sing, sans jugement. Vive la danse! Vive la musique! C'est la vie.
-Happy Blogger.

Love and Reality

Some, though very few of you, may be aware of and even outraged by a recent piece of overwhelming news. The aforementioned few are followers of the competitive reality series, The Bachelorette. The upsetting news is the result of the season finale aired on Monday. Any REAL fan of the show and anyone who TRULY wanted Jillian (the eligible bombshell searching for love in a world that apparently shuns gorgeous brunettes) to be happy, would have wanted her to pick any of the other guys besides [Special] Ed. And anyone with any kind of grasp on even the subtlest intricacies of the concept of love would have been screaming at their television and throwing coasters when she turned down Reid for the second time. Now, if any guy is still reading this, please bear with me. This is not a rant about The Bachelorette. It is a brief exploration of some of those intricacies of love I was talking about. So on second thought, you might not want to read this anyway.

Alright, while on the surface it makes sense to say that the truest form of love is an intangible essence of the sub-conscious, unfettered by the restrictive definites of logic and sensibility, I must disagree. Sure, most of that can be true but there is also a point in which reality rears its ugly head and part of all that sunshiney fluff has to make way for intelligent thought. Shame, I know. But that is where The Bachelorette fails to bang on all cylinders. It introduces a desperate 'beautiful person' to twenty-some shots at a legitimate relationship, but plunges them all into a fantastical reality that doesn't really exist. Sure, the romantic stone streets of Spain and a riverside picnic in the Hawaiian rainforest may provide the perfect scenarios to experience the more tender aspects of a loving relationship, but they provide no insight into the harsher realities of such a complex thing as marriage.

For those of you that didn't follow the show, you may be ignorantly muttering, "Calm down. They fell in love, it's not like they're getting married!" Oh yeah? I see your ignorant mutter and raise you a triumphant sneer. The guy that wins gets down and proposes right on the show. The point of it is to end up with a ring! I know, right?! I think it's preposterous. The point I'm trying to make is that even though the girl spent eight weeks straight with the guys, they were under the perfect circumstances. Every date was a best-case scenario, every conversation recorded and observed. It was not real life. As much as love can be a supernatural, otherworldly experience, it exists in real life and has to follow the rules as such. But apparently the producers and participants of the show do not realize this.

If Jillian and Ed really do end up married, they will then be stuck in a legally binding contract to each other and only JUST learning about each other's less admirable quirks and qualities in more candid situations. It won't be the same as the fantasy world they lived in on The Bachelorette. Not until they are stuck together will it all come out. Five, ten, twenty years from now, she'll be another unhappy slob with a husband who sees maybe twenty hours a week in his own home. She'll be best buds with cookie sleeves and martini glasses. As she slowly lets herself go, they'll both realize they'd better make a kid before they're both useless. If not to at least produce an excuse to stay together. But unfortunately, his overstress due to work and her voided circulatory system lead to an absolute inability to conceive children. They decide to adopt an autistic Somalian boy (To be both humanitarian and fashionable, of course). When they see that their child spends each day drooling and inhaling sugar cookies, they finally recognize the hideous face of their truly pathetic mutual existence and cry themselves to sleep each night. In separate rooms. So in a last ditch effort to introduce some form of happiness into their lives, they throw a massive Christmas party and buy a dog for the young'un. In the middle of a rousing chorus of Little Drummer Boy, Ed suffers a violent heart attack. Yelling parum-pah-pum-PUM, he topples into the tree, knocking tinsel and balls and dreams scattered across the floor while his retarded child just stares and snorts down another cookie.

I'm going to pause the love story there. The point was that the whole decision making process of The Bachelorette is naive, uninformed, and ignorant of how love operates and coexists in reality. And somewhere in all that, a lesson can be learned and applied to our lives. I won't shove it down your throat any further. But try to let it float around in your mind somewhere. As real and self-sufficient as love can be, try to maintain a balance of reason and sensibility with it.

All the best,
- The Sad Blogger

Parallel Parking

So, Today I went for a drive, and I decided that I was going to try parallel parking. So I started, and the first few I did were really good, and I was jumping up and down (as much as the car limited) cause I was soo excited that I could actually do it. So then, I went and pulled up, went back, and was preparing myself for another great park. I went to go get out of the car, and check how straight I was, and didn't realize that I didn't put my car in park, rather I was still in reverse. I mean, usually when I park, the car will move a little bit, but the car kept going. So I'm outside my car, and my mom is screaming in the vehicle. I heroically jumped back in the moving car, and saved my mom from more grey hair. Oh, those good ole driving experiences.
-Happy Blogger.
 

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