I Need An Elevator For My Shoulders

What the hell does that title mean? Well, simply put... I'm going through yet another moment in my life where something didn't happen when I wanted it to - and for a while it seemed like it was going to - so now, as always, I'm just taking some deep breaths and shrugging it off. Only now, the deep breaths have actually managed to piss me off even more, and I can't seem to shrug hard or high enough. I will stop being frustrated once my shoulders hit the ceiling (when I'm standing on the floor, not my lofted bed). So now, I feel like I'm inhaling frustration, and I need an elevator for my shoulders.

Dreams: Signs or Surreal?

Most of us who know the psychology of dreaming know of Freud's theory of sex symbols in dreams, a theory that we know is false.  Dreams are helpful in recording memories and rejuvenate the brain.   However, some dreams we have (or at least I do) are way too relevant to are lives to just be for recording memories.  I had a dream once that I was going after this girl, and then a friend of mine told me not to.  In the first half of the dream she acted basically how she would in the real world, but in the second half of the dream she was "evil" and tried to run me over with her SUV.  Of course there were other, much weirder parts of the dream that made it unrealistic, but I still don't know.  Was the dream a sign, or was it just a random collection of thoughts?

Why?

I was recently asked what the audience for my blog once, and, well, I never really thought about that.  I didn't think I actually needed an audience, I just want to get some of my thoughts out there.  That's mainly why nothing makes sense, and I actually have a hard time understanding myself too.  So, I'd say my main audience is really just myself (so I can stop talking to myself through Facebook statuses).  But, since other people may read this, let's just say that I'm saying the kind of things that make people look at life from a different point of view.  And some other things that I hope are interesting to you.  Lastly, I might throw a couple of posts here and there, like this one, in response to feedback I've heard about the blog.

I Blame Sleep

Needless to say, by know you've said to yourself at least 5 times, "Wow, this guy is weird."  I know I have.  Anyway, I'm sorry for all the strange posts.  Somehow I got to be all philosophical in the early morning.  No more weird posts from now on.  Just kidding.  But they'll make more sense.

Story Time

A while ago, my friend Figs wanted me to tell a story. Somehow, I was able to make one up on the spot... and it managed to satisfy my self-critical personality. So, I decided to share it with you. It uses one of my most favorite themes: innocence (I, for one, get all giggly and childlike inside at any reference or mention of a childhood show). The shuffle of grass tickles the ears of a young boy, his feet producing the sound as he strides down a swollen bump in the green field. Light emits from his neck-length, golden hair. Caressing each strand, the wind blew the foliage on his head back,causing it to whip behind him in an excited frenzy. A small cottage lay in the distance. Ricky was sprinting to his friend Heather's house, and he would not rest until he got there. The dirt below the boy levelled out. Ricky got to be more comfortable with each step on flat ground and picked up speed. Soon the chopped blades of grass grew to ankle height. A plethora of flowers dyed pink, yellow, purple, and blue joined in, decorating the field with a mosaic of color. The petals of these mosaic tiles gently skimmed Ricky's knees, yet they managed to dodge receiving a violent smack from the  menacing bone as he ran through. The small cottage appeared much larger now. Nearing the end of this natural masterpiece, Ricky could almost hear Heather chiming his name with her sweet, melodious voice. Then it echoed with greater intensity. Ricky slowed his pace, confused at the quite vivid level of reality in that last call. A friendly sensation hit his ankle. Not a flower this time as he had guessed it would be,  but not far from it. Ricky lost all balance and let his leg come out from under him. He landed softly, however, thanks to the comfortable ferns cushioning his fall. He turned over onto his back to see Heather on her knees by his side. Her eyes, white pearls painted with a ring of hazel and a blotch of ebony, stared into Ricky's. Heather smiled at him with those white pendants in her mouth. Ricky grinned back, his cheeks painted a nervous scarlet. His hand pinched the stem of an iris and floated through the air toward her. "This is for you," was all he could say. She took the field's golden offspring, her cheeks matching the color of his. Ricky carefully relocated a portion of her hair back to its proper place behind her ear. She locked it into that spot by placing the flower in front of it. Heather laid down on her back next to Ricky, her hands at her side. Together they gazed at the white cotton above them in the azure Atlantic sky. Ricky's fingers crawled along the grass toward Heather. Her fingers did the same. She opened her petite hand to reveal her palm, awaiting his. Her skin tingled Ricky's trembling hand. His smile stretched across his face, extending through the gap between them to meet Heather's. Slowly the gaps closed and the smiles hid behind eager lips. For a moment they locked their faces together. Then, they laid down and looked back up toward the sky, bathing in silence and contentment.

Why Are Puns So Bad?

Yeah, why ARE puns so bad?  I see them as an opportunity to be creative with the words themselves, not their meaning.  I always enjoy a good pun, though I guess it's just me.  A lot of people have told me that pun jokes stink.  I wonder...do they find them to be PUNgent?  :D

Free Food!

Speaking of food (See: blog title), why can't it be free?  Of course, I don't mean all food should be free. But certainly important necessities, such as the main foods: chicken, fish, bread, beans, and we'll throw water in as a food as well.  I understand the expectation that you should pay for a luxury such as junk food, but why pay for the food that helps keep us alive? Again, this is including (and especially) water.  Going back to my first post, I believe people should have equal chances to succeed in life.  But how can you succeed if you're dead?  The darwinist rule is the survival of the fittest, so if we are all fit, we can all survive together.  It's hard enough that we must compete with one another for jobs (and sometimes relationships). Can we at least make it easier to focus on success by aiding us with priceless provisions?

Why "Maybe" In The URL?

For those of you wondering what the "maybe" is in Gerber Maybe Food, it represents all of the explored an unexplored possibilities of the world.  Maybe at some point in the future, college students may actually be able to afford to pay off their loans within five years of graduating (yeah, right).  Maybe people can learn to help each other instead of overcharging for the most ridiculous things for their own profit.  (I'm allowed 10 dollars per day for my meal plan for the semester.  I eat 7 dollars per meal.  Chartwells is scum.)  Maybe I'll be able to fall asleep soon.  Again, yeah right.

(And, to ruin all of that, let me just say that there was absolutely no reason why it's there. It's only a play on words, nothing more. Reasonless.)

Another Shocker: High School Doesn't Actually Suck

For those of you in high school who can't wait to get to college, I am ready to smack you right now.  Do not waste some of the best years of your life.  Let me repeat that.

DO NOT WASTE SOME OF THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE.

As a guy, male bonding with "the bros" is my top priority.  In fact, time spent with friends in high school accumulated into my best set of memories ever.  Because once you get to college, it's all over.  Your friends will disperse across the region, maybe even across the country, and chances to be with them in person again are limited.  So I'm begging you all, with my largest regrets in mind:

Take advantage of the time you have in high school while you're still there.  It may not seem like it at first, but the fun is limited to eight years (four in high school and four in college), which is less than 10% of the average lifespan.  Once your four years of high school are over, the fun is half gone.  Oh, and, that girl in your class who you like?  Go for it.  You may actually have a chance at going out with her.  You'll never know until you try.  No, I don't want you to draw a connection between all of this and my personal life. Just worry about yourself for once.

This Just In: Winning The Presidency Is NOT About Being President

This sort of ties into my faith in humanity.  All I hear about the Obama campaign is that he's doing what he thinks will help this country the most.  From the Republican primary candidates, however, I hear only one reason being given for people to vote for them, repeated in my ears like a chant: Beat Obama, beat Obama, beat Obama.

Let me clarify this for people: The presidential race is NOT about becoming the next president so that your party is in office.  Being president, rather, is about being the best man (or woman, once that happens) to help the people of America.  It doesn't matter that a democratic or republican candidate wins the election.  If the person is not fit for the job, you and the rest of the country are screwed.

The Apocalypse For Faith In Humanity

Something thought to be nonexistent throughout America these days still survives in me: faith in humanity.  No, this isn't like having faith that Santa Claus is real.  I have faith in the genuine good in people.

First off, everyone has the potential to be honest to each other.  White lies are okay, but ones that harm other people, like scams, take advantage of our trust.  Even withholding the truth may be harmful to someone.  (When it comes to the "does this make my butt look big" question, however, just pretend to play a game on your cell phone and refrain from giving an answer.) In fact, the lack of truth in advertising has made me believe that a new system should be experimented with.  Rather than exaggerating the positive aspects of a product and painting the ad with bright colors and fine print, advertisers should list pros and cons of their product and that of a competitor's, and then try to give reasons why their pros outweigh the competitor's pros.  Just for once, let people know what's actually going on and cut out all the bullshit.  It saves you money and saves us time.

Anyone Can Write

I have a theory, one that may sound crazy to some, that anyone can write.  Those of you reading this might immediately dispute this, saying that you are not creative at all, or that your spelling or grammar is subpar.  In my theory, I put these aspects of writing aside.  First of all, spelling and grammar may be taught, and I admit that mine isn't perfect either.  However, if you are passionate about something, anything at all, then you can write about it.  It could be an article in a magazine or a full 300-page masterpiece, but my point is that with enough passion, the words will write themselves.  You just have to type them.

Motivation: Found.

From the time we're born, we wonder what our purpose is in the world, and (hopefully) how we can make it better using the talents we already have.  One of my talents, unfortunately, is thinking too much at night, or in this case 4:30 a.m.  This talent, however, has finally organized my scattered thoughts into an epiphany that every college student dreams of having--the sudden realization of what I want to accomplish in life.  My mind found a way to combine my trust in the good of human beings, and my belief that everyone deserves a chance or two in life, with the idea that people should be able to be financially comfortable doing what they like to do for a career.  When I say financially comfortable, I mean somewhat financially secure, because let's face it; especially with today's interest rates, it would be nearly impossible to pay off all bills on time and in full.

The issue I have with society these days is that some subject areas lack job availability.  These subjects I call "failed" majors.  From what I have seen, most unhappy retail workers graduated with a degree in English, History, Philosophy, Psychology, or Communications.  Though these subjects are extremely valuable to shaping our culture, jobs are scarce, especially for the new, fresh-off-the-college-boat workers.  It is my goal to use writing skills to build a name for people in these fields and help them get into the job that they most desire.

Here's a summary of what I hope to accomplish:

I want to set up a "writer's clinic" of some sort that would help people write about their favorite subjects.  Mainly, it is for people who graduated with the majors I listed earlier.  In my experience, it is difficult for students with those majors to find jobs.  Writing a book about the subject would put their name out there for employers and would help them to find a job in the career they desire, instead of settling for a job filled with misery and a lower pay.