Save the World

Alexander stood at the city's main plaza. He looked out upon all the people milling about on a Saturday afternoon and proclaimed, "I am going to save the world!"

A bum sitting against a building near Alexander looked up to him and said, "What if the world doesn't want to be saved?"

Alexander looked startled for a moment, then asked, "Does the world get a choice in the matter?"

The bum smirked, "We all get a choice." He then passed out against the building.

The Argument

"Who started it? what the hell is this about?" He demanded as if we were lowly criminals in one of his cases, while using his arms to push us apart. At some point during the argument we had gotten to be nose to nose; spittle flying directly from one face to land on the opposing one. What were we even arguing about? I can't even remem- oh! right! Jeffry had borrowed my car for the seemingly millionth time and frankly that was the last straw, there had been tension floating between us like thunder clouds for months and finally the storm came. No punches were thrown, but some extremely unkind words were exchanged that night, stabbing at each other with remarks as only siblings can.

So by the time Father arrived, I'm not sure either of us was even arguing or insulting coherently anymore, throwing such novelties at one another like, "You're a cockatoo's son!" or "You're a dirty pineapple-eater who sleeps in mud!" and "You like blueberries!". You see, completely nonsensical. Well, except for the last one which is true, I do love blueberries, I hadn't realized this could remotely be thought to be a point of contention though.

Father had bodily separated us and was looking back and forth between us, searching for some clue to how we had ended up in such a situation. To illustrate his confusion he said, "You know, I'm quite baffled by this whole thing. A) This isn't how I raised you both. B) You're as close as borthers can be, you never quarrel! and C) if neither of you says one word to shed some light or at least apologizes, then I'm taking you both in the squad can and throwing you in adjoining cells."

We didn't say anything, just sullenly stared. I don't think we believed he'd do it, he was our own father and that sounded a bit over the line in parenting. We called his bluff and steeped ourselves in our own anger.

"Well, at least neither of you are snitches I suppose." and then he frog-marched us into the car. Next thing I knew I was sitting in a cell on a cold, worn cot. I really didn't believe he'd do it.

Most Sensational

This has been quite a productive summer writing/blogging wise, this entry marks my 200th post in this blog! I am a little proud of myself. Thank you to anyone who's been reading. This summer has been good in general, relaxing, very chill. And also there has been buzz lately about Muppets. So I will add to the buzz:

Ok Go (Feat the muppets)
Muppet Show Theme Song



Happy 200th post!

Not Shaggy Not Scooby

"Hey! Listen!", Her voice was emphatic as the air was cold, "This isn't some show like 'Scooby-Doo', You aren't Shaggy, I'm not Velma and together we sure as heck aren't the effing Myserty Inc Team! This is real life Daniel!"

I breathed out slowly, watching as my breath turned to mist in the November air. I was staring off into the distance quietly, imperceptibly shaking.

She poked me, "Are you even listening?"

I heard myself respond with a much calmer tone than I actually felt, "Yes, Emily, I hear you...this is real life, and I'm scared. Our friends are gone, disappeared without a trace, we can't just go home. I'm pretty sure they're not dead, at least I hope so. I think we should at least make an effort to look for them, don't you?"

She looked at me, her tone softened into something that resembled my best friend, "I guess you're right, how bout we get started searching in the morning after we get some rest in the car, okay? Shit! You're shaking! Why didn't you say something?!"

She quickly unzipped her coat, I embraced her and she enveloped me in the down-jacket. We stayed like that for awhile, the shaking subsided so we climbed into the car. It was an old rusty station wagon that didn't retain heat very well but we laid in the back, cocooned in layers of blankets, sweat shirts and Emily's warm jacket. We passed out before we knew it.

Hours later I was awoken by a steady whirring, it sounded ominous. Poking my head out of the cocoon I saw a faint light piercing the inky blackness of the night. A clue, perhaps?

One Step

All it takes is one step to start in a new direction, to see a new reflection. One step and they might just follow in your lead. One step to find out where you're going. One step to find out who you'll be. One step to get started, keep the feet flowing each new step is just one more added. Don't feel the combined weight of them all. Just one foot in front of the other, one in front of the other, you might just be surprised where you end up. Don't be afraid, there's always another direction to take if this one gets dark.

The first step is always the hardest, its so much easier to stand still. But all it takes is one step to start, just one. Then you'll be gone in a new direction.

Those Yellow Eyes

You remember them well, those yellow eyes that followed you into the dark. But you were not scared, no, no. You knew everything would be alright. Even when you heard the snarls and snuffs, growls to make hair stand on end; no you weren't scared. It was so dark that night, apart from those yellow glowing eyes. The air was warm thick and humid. You emerged from the darkness to find yourself beside a lake that was still as glass.

And beside you appeared those yellow eyes, but they were not alone. They were followed by a majestic yet mangy beast. If it was a wolf it had the maw of a shark, if it was a bear it had the floppy ears of a rabbit, if it was a cougar it had the antlers of a stag. It was a nightmare. It was nature itself. But you weren't scared, not one bit. You just looked right into those yellow eyes and saw everything. The beast disappeared leaving you alone with the lake. In you dove, swam down through the depths, feeling the water all around. Everything was okay.

Man in Museum

Jasmine walked into the art museum, she was looking to quietly waste her Wednesday afternoon off. She took a few steps toward the kiosk to buy a ticket for the exhibit when something caught her eye: a man sitting on a bench by himself in her periphery. Jasmine turned to get a better look, he was a small man wearing round glasses, he had bushy white eyebrows with a matching moustache, wispy hair but mostly bald on top. The man was clutching a briefcase to his chest. He looked slightly anxious as if he was waiting for something or someone, and he looked a bit nervous too; on of his well polished shoes was tapping rhythmically on the ground.

The shoe went- Tap-pause-pause-tap-tap-pause-tap

The man looked if nothing else: interesting. Jasmine decided to go over and talk to him. She walked over and plopped down next to him, crossing one leg over the other.

"You weren't saving this bit of bench, were you?" she asks

The man seems a bit startled, both of his feet come off the ground in surprise. he opens his mouth once, closes it, takes in the situation and says, "No, no, you're just fine there..." and his foot goes back to its rhythm

tap-pause-pause-tap-tap-pause-tap-pause-pause

Not thrown off at all by the lack of greeting Jasmine smiles, unclasps her bag and takes out a book of crosswords and a pen. She spends a few moments scribbling in answers here and there and chewing on the end of her pen in thought.

"My name's Jasmine, would you happen to know a 6-letter word for travel bag?"

After an extra two pauses in the tapping the man closes his eyes for a moment and replies, "Duffle"

"Ahhh yes! Thank you!" writing the word into the blanks.

The tapping continues at its normal pace as Jasmine surveys her puzzle's clues, thinking of answers. This goes on for several minutes until the man decides it is his turn to break the silence, "I'd like to introduce myself, my name is Stanley. I'm waiting for someone..someone who needs this briefcase."

"Quite nice to make your acquiantance Stanley!"

Every once in awhile the art museum's PA system comes on with a short announcement like, "The Picasso exhibit will be open at 2 pm purchase your tickets from the kiosk."

Jasmine turns to Stanley asking, "Do you think you're friend is coming soon for the briefcase?"

Stanley's foot keeps tapping its rhythm as he ponders, "Hmmm... I'm not exactly sure actually."

Jasmine frowned, what an unreliable person to not even say when they were coming. She decides she'll sit with him until the briefcase's recipient arrives.

Minutes pass by, people come and go, a half hour goes by, then forty-five minutes. At half past two the tapping ceases. Stanley stands, straightens his pants and jacket out, then picks up the briefcase and turns to Jasmine, "I think you might be the one I was waiting for. Will you take it?"

Jasmine nods before she lets herself have a chance to protest. Stanley beams and hands her the briefcase with both hands. He says to her, "Thank you for spending some time with me, I think you'll know what to do with what's in the briefcase." Then he strides off into the Picasso exhibit leaving Jasmine completely baffled.

The North West

We arrived back home into a thunderstorm this morning at 6 am. The rain continued til about now at almost 6 pm. But the trip itself? Awesome. Our trip to the North West consisted of one jovial waiter, two magical cities, a multitude of hikes, a range of west coast mountains, a temperate rain forest, a bicycling tour, a four story book store, a world famous market with fish tossers, clam chowder and more. It was nothing if it wasn't full of adventure. Is a vacation a destination or an experience? A state of mind? or A sense of adventure? Whichever way you define it, I had an absolutely great time.

And to celebrate my return home and a great vacation, how bout some music? I'm a bit late to the game with this song, but its pretty infectious so I thought I would share:

Foster the People
Pumped up Kicks

Happy 3rd Anniversary

Yesterday was the third anniversary of my blog! I'm on vacation in the North West, so not a lot of time to post anything too long right now, but I will talk all about it when I get back. Until then, I hope you all are having a wonderful time doing whatever it is you do.

Sailing on

They called me The Captain, well I suppose that's still who I am. Still I pilot this ship, but there are no men to crew it. The crew has been asleep below deck for the better part of a decade; a damn witch's curse! Witches, they are evil blasted things, how we even angered her, I still can't quite figure nor why she left me awake. And I 'ave no prince or princess to kiss them all awake, nor do I even know if that would cure it. They all sleep peacefully, seemingly perfectly content to continue their slumber. Leaving me to take care of them; make sure they're all tucked in tight when the storms get violent and keep the ship sailing. Its lonely and not all at the same time.

I've been on the seas all this time, seen every ocean, all the continents discovered and not, strings of islands and things you've never heard of. Frankly I don't even know rightly where we are anymore. The stars are all foreign, which is saying something for a seaman who know star charts better than the back of his hands. Some days I can swear I see the humps of sea monsters in the distance moving through the water like living islands. The sea itself seems to be a different hue entirely, not the dark blue that is so familiar, but rather a sort of an emerald like colour. Still I sail on, I 'aven't stopped once, I don't know what I'm looking for, but I'll know when I find it. I know that much for sure. Until then I will keep sailing on...sailing on..

At the Heart of it All

At the heart of it all, when you broke it down, he was infatuated by infatuation. In other words he loved being in love. From the tender foolish moments to the knock-down drag-out fights; he loved it all. The hand-holding, the kissing, the candle-lit dinners...the shouting after candle lit dinners when something hadn't been cooked quite right; all of it. Even the eventual breakups. Yes, they ripped his heart to shreds, for what a tragedy it was when love itself dissolved, but in each break-up he saw the hop of a new beginning.

His friends were worried about him, from the outside it looked as if he were an addict, searching for fixes in romantic comedies and new relationships. They all shouted at him, "You're wrong! Its not all beautiful!"

He just smiled back, he knew the truth.

Stories from Northern Wisconsin (Pt 2)

At some point or another I bet you've seen a hummingbird, perhaps not in real life, maybe in a picture. The point is that you know what they are and that they move at ridiculously fast speeds. The majestic birds come in every color, brown, green, blue, silver. Some people are under the myth that these birds are not able to ever stop moving their little wings, this I have found to be false. While they seem to not sit in any given place for a long period of time, hummingbirds are perfectly capable of sitting completely still. If they're wings were to stay in motion perpetually, then whenever you went outside you would be forced to ask yourself, "when are the distant helicopters going to arrive?". Because that is exactly what they sound like, or extremely loud bumblebees; this is probably where they get the "Humming" part of their name.

The other notion about Hummingbirds is that they are peaceful, serene, wise creatures. This I'm not too sure about either. When we stay at our cabin, we leave out a Hummingbird feeder. My mom makes up a sugar water concoction that is lapped us like a sweet sweet nectar. But once they've had a taste, well the miniature helicopters get territorial. They viciously guard the feeder from each other, swooping up and down, while making high pitched tweets. As I laid in the hammock outside I had a front row seat to the warring Hummingbird factions. Little bomber jets whirring screeching at each other, guarding what each felt was rightly theirs.