Hauntings of a Past Life

I used to be a real boy;
I used to think real thoughts and dream real dreams.
Then one by one I handed up my strings.
Now all that's left is a silly puppet, tossed to and fro,
by the whim of him who has no soul.

Why did I do it? Why did I ever let him grab ahold?
Well, it all seemed like such fun, you know.
At first we laughed, we played, we giggled.
Then we kissed, and thouched and snuggled.
At last we did the nearly unforgiveable.

Now by the whim of him without a soul,
this puppet is made to dance and sing, to and fro, to and fro.
One by one I GAVE THEM TO HIM.
I used to think real thoughts and dream real dreams;
but now they're merely tattered shreds, of a real boy, that used to be.

Frustration

There are only two things in life that bring out my competetive spirit enough to frustrate to the point of profanity:

Love, and board games.

Lessons Learned

Things I learned tonight:

1. Don't eat grilled cheese sandwiches
2. Don't eat tater tots.
3. Don't eat turtle pie.
4. If you do eat any of the above, don't eat them all at the same meal.
5. If you do eat them all in the same meal, don't run immediately afterwards.
6. If you're going to run immediately after eating such a meal, don't try following someone that is twice as fast as you.
7. Speed bumps are armed and dangerous, and invisible in the dark.
8. Even fat, old men feel better after running for an hour, everyone should do it every day.

Blank Slate

My eyes open slowly as the dusty sunlight creeps through my bedroom curtains.
The warmth of the rising sun snuggles with me as I come into conciousness.
My life is clear and fresh and new.
What shall I make of it?
Shall I get out of bed?
Shall I roll over and call in sick, and go to the movies?
Shall I find a new job?
Shall I find a wife?
Shall I write a song, and become a rock star?
Shall I write a screenplay, and win an Oscar?
Shall I hike to the top of a mountain?
Shall I move to the coast?
Shall I move to Europe?
Hrm...
It's good to know that the possibilities are limitless.
But, I think I'll just get up and go to work.

A Perks Moment

Saturday morning I had to get a haircut. I was in Ogden, and stopped at the first cheap place I saw. It just happened to be a beauty parlor (what was I thinking?). The group of women there were extremely friendly, and got right to cutting my hair.

The beautician and I had the regular conversation, "Where are you from?" "How long have you worked here?" "Any plans for this weekend?" "Oh, the Army! That's so cool. Have you been over there yet?" After a few minutes I went silent again.

Several of the women were having a conversation about Brad. They were talking about how terrible the divorce was, and what would happen to his wife's children that he had adopted, etc., etc., etc. I just assumed that Brad was some guy that they all knew. Then they started ragging on his wife. Talking about what a whore she is, and how she really should stop getting all of that awful plastic surgery. Then they went from Brad and his marital problems to Prince Charles and Camilla and Prince Charles children.

Then I saw the People magazine. And it finally struck me. I was rather dumbfounded. How could I have been so stupid? Brad and his wife were, of course... duh blueshorts... Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Suddenly I felt betrayed. I don't know why I expected anything from these women, I didn't even know them before saturday morning. But while I thought I was hearing them discuss someone that they actually knew, they'd been talking celebrity gossip. Then I started to get angry. I've never really had much sympathy for celebrities and their fight for privacy; I've usually tended to keep up on all of the celebrity gossip, and even watch a little Extra every once in a while. But this just left a bad taste in my mouth. Who cared what the beauty shop ladies thought about some celebrities that lived hundreds or thousands of miles from them that they had most likely never even met? What gave them the right to pass judgement on these people? I dare to venture that if Angelina Jolie had walked into that beauty shop in Ogden on Saturday morning, the women would not have told her what they had been telling each other. I seriously doubt that they would have informed her that she was a whore, and needed to stop with the surgeries already.

Why do people gossip? Why do I gossip? What right do I have to talk bad about people that I don't even know? Or people that I do know for that matter? I need to be nicer to people; give them more of the benefit of the doubt. In the words of Wiggle, "You don't know me." So, I'll try and stop passing so many judgements, and start being more responsible for my words, even if the people do live two states away, and will never know what I said about them.

One of My Favorites

One bright day in the middle of the night two dead boys got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other. A deaf policeman heard the noise and went and shot those two dead boys. Now if you don't believe this lie is true ask the blind man, he saw it too. (I think I memorized that in second grade.)

Smurf's Bathroom

So I was standing in the same bathroom that I complained about several times already when a thought hit me (well, more like snuck up behind me and tapped me gently on the shoulder), "This bathroom is just like Smurfs old bathroom, only cleaner."