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?