A Chuckle

Both of my parents worked while I was growing up so I would stay at daycare after school. I loved daycare. One of my favorite memories of all time happened at daycare. If I say daycare one more time this blog will be officially obnoxious.
We were divided into two groups at my...aggg...daycare. The older kids made up one group and we, the younger kids, made up the second. I know, creative way to divide yourselves. Us younger chaps had the job of being tortured by the older kids. We actually didn't mind it too much, it was fun pissing them off and then running away, but I was fat so I could never run very fast, or very far.
My favorite memory happened one afternoon during a rousing game of kickball. Of course the teams were divided according to our age. We knew going into it that we were supposed to be destroyed, and we were. There was this one kid on our team, BJ, he was the smallest in our group and recieved most of the punishment. You could see the look on his face this day, he looked checked out. Kinda like Squintz Paladores in the Sandlot, when he's finally had enough of waiting and decides to go get Wendy Pefercorn. BJ had had enough. He was going to do something about these older brutes. He was playing third base when this moment occured. One of the butt munches from the other team smashed the ball over the fence for a homerun and was making his way around the bases laughing at us like he was somebody. I mean come on...the score was like 56 to nothing. As he was headed toward third base, BJ moved into action. Our bases were those giant orange cones and just when the dirtbag was about to tag it BJ picked it up and....ran. I mean ran like a crazy man. He reminded me of the Jesus lizard from National Geographic that could run across the water...yeah that was BJ with a big orange cone. In a matter of seconds the entire older team was chasing him. Everytime I picture this in my head I chuckle. BJ running for his life carrying a big orange cone, knowing full well he was going to be punished for this, but loving every minute of it. Life is good.

thats MY song

I love how every song somehow becomes my story. Even if it really has nothing to do with anything that has ever happened to me, its still all about...me :)
I love those songs that have favorite parts to them. As soon as the song starts I'm waiting for that part. The one where everything but the drums drop out, the lyric says something that agrees with my soul, or a guitar riff takes me up and out of here. I love moments like that, moments that feel bigger than life. Or maybe they're moments that are just as big as life, they wake me up to life. Movies do the same thing for me. There are parts in movies where I hold my breathe because they're so good. The pool scene in Garden State is one for example and of course the infamous final scene of Its a Wonderful Life.
Maybe there's something here, maybe there's not, but reguardless...I love these moments.

Today

I'm bad at this, I mean really bad. I don't even know how many people read this (is it just me or is that at the back of every blogger's mind?), but letting down my "readers" isn't what frustrates me, its that I'm not friggin consistent at another thing. I can't tell you how many books sit on my bookshevles that are half read, or how many journals I have that jump from January to September with one entry in between, and they all start off the same way too..."Ok, I'm going to do this more often..."

I think that it has something to do with what Rachel called me last night, she was joking of course, but she called me the "deep friend." Maybe I don't blog all the time because I think that if I don't have something to deep to say then I don't have something to say. I've come to the conclusion that thats... well, CRAP. I'd love to write a book one day, but its always "one day." I can't tell you how many stories I have already told myself that I feel belong on some paper. If I'm honest I'll tell you that I'm afraid of telling them in ink. I'm afraid that I'll somehow manage to lose them in the transfer from my head to the paper, that somehow I won't tell it right, somehow I'll screw it up. I have a problem with risks these days.

So, with all that said...today has been a good day. I woke up early, I mean really early. I don't necessarily like the reason for waking up early, but I do appreciate seeing the sunrise every morning. Its incredibly different every time. Sometimes it creeps up on you. It desguises itself as night and then sheepishly mentions the morning. My favorite kinds are the ones that explode onto the scene. I can remember one like that two weeks ago. It honestly stopped me in my tracks and I just had to stare at it, and ask, "What are you doing here?" It began as a thin line of violent orange at the bottom of a dark purple sky. I took no notice of it at first and went on doing what ever it was I was doing, whatever it was wasn't important. The next time I turned around the morning had errupted. It was so...happy. It was almost as if this sunrise was laughing. I stood there on the dock, at a freight company, behind a 53 foot tractor trailer, with forklifts momentarily moving in slow motion, and I watched the sunrise. It was great.

Sorry, I think I did again...:) Hey, this is the Big Life. Welcome to my abrupt end.

Self-portraits and iPods

So Ive noticed a defining characteristic of the current generation. Besides being unable to function without an iPod, the future world leaders have a passion for taking self portraits. Myspace and Facebook are flooded with the typical aireal shot of the subject with the head slightly tilted to the side. So whats the deal? Why the obsession? Well, I have a few ideas...cue the evil sinister laugh...or dont.
1. It could be for the risk factor. The self-portrait allows one to throw caution to the wind and snap the shot without seeing what its in the viewfinder. Could this generations obsession with extreme sports be tied directly to our preference for the self portrait?
2. It could be all about the ego. You dont need to wait for someone else to take a picture of you, you can do it yourself. A digital camera is basically turned into a mirror.
3. Or could it be because we choose to define ourselves? I lean towards this one, because well it sounds deeper :) I think that this generation doesnt like to depend on outside sources to define; to depict who they are. We can take the picture ourselves thank you very much.