Sometimes I Make Stuff Up

Well, I have confession to make. I suck at being adventurous. It's actually a little depressing. I went through this entire week, pondering and searching and begging the cosmos to deliver me a glorious opportunity for adventure, and not one thing really exciting came across my path. Not one idea popped into my brain. It's like I'm having writer's block....for my life? How pathetic is that? So, I apologize to you readers who have been waiting with bated breath for my next quest. Or the more likely story, which is you've been praying I would never type another word. I can just hear you now, sitting in your cozy houses with a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, muttering to yourselves, "Homeless people? Really." All I can say is, next week will be better. And if not, well, try writing something interesting about your life sometime. It's harder than it looks, especially when you realize that for anyone to have any idea what you're talking about you might just have to tell your ENTIRE life story, and no one wants to go through that tedious hell. Never fear though, because I have decided to make up a story to entertain your clever little brains, instead of boring you with something from my pointless debacle of a week. So here goes, sweet ones, enjoy:

   

      

Once upon a time, (yes, I realize the cliche-ness of this opening, but what do you want? "Of three things I was absolutely certain...1. This book is awful 2. I was dating a pedophile..." I didn't think so. Anyways.) Once upon a time, there was a girl, who wanted desperately to be a musician. Disney movies did nothing but encourage this, as they taught her from a young age that all problems can be solved by randomly breaking into song. (And really, it does help.) The girl -let's call her Annie- even had a certain amount of talent, unlike half of those delusional hipsters raised on Disney that think that they have talent because their mom said so. (Sorry, if you are one of them, I'm not saying your mom has no idea what she's talking about. But let's face it, we all watch American Idol. They all think they're amazing. And we all watch with amazement and wonder if who ever, EVER told these people they had a career in performing must have been on crack cocaine.) So one day Annie announced to her family that she wanted to go to music school. She was met with the usual response, which is "Just how do you expect to get a job with a music degree?" Annie had no answer. All she knew was that there was nothing in the world that she wanted more. She also figured that if she got really really good at singing, she would have woodland creatures and a plethora of handsome princes at her beck and call. And really, who doesn't want that? So despite the trepidation of her relatives, she decided to follow her heart and go to college as a music major. It was much harder than she expected. She spent hours of her day in a prison cell sized room with an upright piano, trying to figure out why this high note didn't sound free, or why a major seventh interval gave her the urge to kill herself, or who the sadistic wretch was that came up with 7/4 time. (I mean really, who does that? Surely there is an easier way. My personal opinion is that those composers are just show offs..."HMM, yes, I'll write this song in a time signature that no one but me could possibly ever read correctly. I will be a musical GENIUS!!") Yet Annie persevered. She got a little discouraged at times, and a little lazy at others, and wondered quite frequently if any of this was indeed worth it. She even shed a few tears in that practice room, and probably startled a few other musicians in the rooms next to her with her outcry of "What does this even  meeeeeaaaan?" But eventually, after a lot of failures and a few successes and an emotional roller coaster or two and an adventure of a lifetime,she got her music degree. She spent her life doing what made her the happiest. She met her handsome prince, and although there weren't really any woodland creatures, Annie was okay with that. And she lived happily ever after.

Now, I have another confession. That wasn't actually made up. (Well, except for the last bit, but I'm working on it.) Yes, I did just put you through a story about my awkward and boring life. I apologize, but honestly if you read all the way to this point you deserve what you get. On the bright side, now you know a little bit about me. Possibly more than you wanted to. I promise I don't randomly scream like a hysterical maniac all the time. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm not really sure what else to add to this conclusion without it getting uncomfortably awkward, so I'll just stop here. Until next time then. 

 

 

The Beginning

Today, I decided to become one of those people. The bloggers. I can't help but feel slightly ashamed. I mean, do I really want to become one of a countless number of people who spend hours of their lives typing thoughts, insights, whatever...just to have their irrelevance verified,by the people who aren't reading their blog ,because -gasp- they actually have LIVES. You know, that thing where you go out and talk to people, get to know them the old fashioned way. In fact, I challenge you to try it sometime. Using nothing but your good looks and what I'm sure is your sparkling personality, mingled with a slight amount of healthy stranger danger (hey, if you feel like the homeless guy sitting on the curb with vomit chunks clinging to his scraggly beard is a lifelong friendship waiting to happen, go for it), go out and make a new friend. Without technology. Actually walk up and talk to someone. Say hi. Complement them on their outfit or something. (i.e., "Hey, I noticed you have less vomit chunks in your beard than usual today. Good for you!") Anything. The possibilities are endless. Now, I'm not saying people will be friendly. I'm not promising you that they will even acknowledge your existence. Case in point: today, I decided to have an adventure. I was walking down  the street, thinking, you know what, I want to meet new people. I just moved here, no one knows me, I could make lots of new friends who will like me and respect me and come over to my apartments for movie nights and find out how crazy I am and never come back or answer my calls or texts and then I can start the process ALL OVER AGAIN. Doesn't that sound awesome? I know, I thought so too. So I tried it. I smiled at people as I walked by. And do you know what happened? I have many many more friends! We're all going to be in each other's weddings, and have our kids in playgroup together, and live in the same nursing home when we're old! See?!!!

Now for the truth. I was walking down the street, being all smiley and friendly and sunshine and roses. And NO ONE CARED. They all looked down at the pavement, averting their eyes from me like I meant nothing to them. All my hopes and dreams, vanished away because of the captivating features of the concrete sidewalk. People suck. (No offence, but unless you are an extremely advanced species of dolphin reading this, I assume you are all in fact people) So now, because I know you all are dying to run out right now and start your new circle of friends, I am warning you. You will most likely be ignored. But adventures would not be adventures if they were easy. So do not give up hope, darlings. I will be the first to smile and wave back at you, should I see you on the street. Until then though, keep making every day a new adventure. That's what I have been trying to say all along. That's the whole point of this blog, for heaven's sake. To show you that even ordinary, mundane days can be grand and wonderful. All you have to do is go out and live.