Let's All Teach Colorblind Kids to Play Twister

You know you have a problem when the colorblind kid beats you at Twister.

It's high school graduation week, and I should be way more nostalgic/excited. But I'm not. I'm really, really not. This afternoon, we had to practice walking out on the field and receiving our diploma and whatnot. Can't I just practice walking to the mailbox when they send it to me?

How far would you go to preserve your youth? Would you go this far? Honestly, I admire his eclectic style and carefree spirit, but what's up with the outfits? Nonetheless, I got a kick out of reading his postings and viewing his pictures.

DB

AP Test, Work, Charlie, and Mom

I took the AP English test (only the biggest test of my highschool career), and it slaughtered my very existence. Maybe I'm exagerrating; the multiple choice section was not hard at all, but the essays..yikes. Still, I'm pretty sure I passed and got the college hours for it.

Work was sooo crazy today! I got there at 7am and was supposed to get off at 3:30, but I had to stay until 4:30 (wahhh, poor me).

Your mission: greet customers as if your life depends on it. You are the crackhead that gets a buzz from customer service. Think you can handle it?

One of my supervisors (he's one of my favorites, and he's Egyptian. Way cool.) asked me to stand by the door and greet people as they walk in the door. After watching me timidly and passively tell shoppers "good morning," he decided to let me in on a little business success secret.
"Dani, the difference between Walmart¹ and Publix is dat at Publix, the employee wants to check you out. Can't wait to help you find what you need. At Walmart, dey don't make you feel welcome. So, when da customer come in, you gonna say, 'Heyyy, how ya doin'?' and 'You find everythin' okay? You like the hungry shark. Ya going in for da kill.'
Me: o.0

Charlie, my dog, is mental. He runs into walls, chases leaves, and gets his head stuck in cups. And yet, he is a really well-tempered dog. In fact, he's the nicest dog we've had.
Mom: "He is such a good dog. I hope we have him a long time before he dies of natural causes."
Ohhh, Mom.

Speaking of which, Happy Mother's Day (tomorrow!). Be sure to call your mother.

DB

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¹I've always wanted to try the balloon thing at work to freak out my coworkers. If I ever do, I'll be sure to tell about it on here.

Simple Wins

The simple wins in life definitely keep me going these days. The vending machines that spit out two butterfingers at once. Just barely avoiding a red light. Getting a compliment from a complete stranger. Sonic slushies during "happy hour." Finding a funny youtube video.
Speaking of whichhhh (I wish I could say I didn't plan that segway..), here are some youtube vids for your viewing enjoyment:
- They found a kid, beat him up, asked him his name (to which he replied, "Rico"), so they named their band "Whoop Rico." Pretty sure Flogging Molly had a similar experience.
-This is one of the funniest mockumentaries I've ever seen. The Beatles in the year 3000.
I'm sorry if you've already seen those before. I hadn't seen them until recently and thought they were quite amusing, so I took a chance.

DB

Bucket Lists and Jellyfish

I think i'll add "get stung by a jellyfish" to my bucket list.

I swear there's logic in my thought process that led to this conclusion.
A friend and I began talking about bucket lists a few days ago, and the subject has attatched itself to the back of my mind since. Bucket lists introduced itself to the subject of jellyfish -- a subject stemmed from my fear of swimming in the ocean at night. Bucket list and jellyfish hit it off right away, and the two collaborated to make a revelation.
Are you still with me?
If I add a painful, unpleasant experience like getting stung by a jellyfish to my bucket list, then in the event that said experience occurs, I'll have met one of my goals and I'll have an interesting story to write about.
Still confused?
People write what they know(or at least they should). If I got stung by a jellyfish or experienced some other unfortunate event, I would gain authority to confidently write a story based on the incident. I hate pain as much as the next pansy, but my inner Bronte and Dickinson welcome the experiences in a twisted way.

A Freedom Writer

I've been running away from my stress so much lately that the pounding of it's footsteps behind me are inevitable. I can't ignore it any longer. Taking a deep breath helps, but that's a difficult task when you feel like you are being smoldered by a pillow. A pillow made of sandpaper.
Don't get me wrong. Life is a wonderful thing, but the wearing and tearing is getting to be a bit much for me. I find myself wandering aimlessly in my mind, searching for something like aloe vera on a sunburnt back. Something to sooth my aching heart, something to rest my tired mind.
But I sat down at my computer and just started writing. Almost immediantly I began to feel like all of the worthless thoughts I had floating in my mind didn't matter and I could just be free. Free to succeed. Free to be someone. Free to give my ideas a voice. How awesome is that?

What do you do that makes you feel free?

Oo, Heaven is a place on earth.

[written on November 30, 2008]

I woke up this morning with that initial panic. Did that really happen? I'm sure you know the feeling. Something incredible occured in your subconcious thought, but the vividness of the event mimics reality. But the unlikelihood of a woman who owns a mansion and lets people tour her house to see her gerbil exibit made me a little skeptical. Ok, so, it was a dream. But I learned more about God in that dream than I've been learning while awake these past few months.

That woman with graying blonde hair and an old, button down work shirt took me and some others into a room. It had random furniture in it, which made it hard to tell what exactly the room was used for (there were sofas, chairs, a coffee table, and even a tall, kingsized bed). She shut the blinds and told us to wait. I had no clue what was about to happen, but i was compliant. I decided to get comfortable while I waited, so I laid flat on the ground and relaxed. Suddenly I felt like I was levitating, and the floor looked like it was rising, but somehow i knew it wasn't. And then an overwhelming feeling consumed me and I thought to myself, "God is in this room." I began to weep. No. It was more of a sob. You know the deep crying that is so intense that you almost feel happy? That's the one. I don't think I will ever forget that feeling. And now, I long to be wrapped in it while awake. God is not a feel-good God that does everything in His power to keep us happy. He is a God that is so powerful, so awesome, so [i don't think any adjective I list will put a dent in the spectrum of His glory], that when we are face to face with him, we can't help but be filled with the joy of knowing that we serve a mighty and capable God! After the events in the room, I asked the woman what all this meant. I told her that if I was that close to God, I must be dead. I must have gone to be with him in heaven. She said calmly that Jesus had come back. This was the end of life as we knew it. But now we had to go out in the world and live our lives for Him, among the darkness, among the lost. We were to, in a sense, live in the presence of God. In a constant state of awe. When we did that, she explained, nothing else in this world would matter. And people would take notice. I wish it was as easy to do that as it was in my dream. But until I put to death the things I've held on to these past few months, there will be no room for living the way I was created to live. My prayer is that I could find peace in His arms, and that you all do as well. I just wanted to share what He laid on my heart, whether this blesses you, irritates you, makes you want to sing, makes you want to throw something, makes you want to go get a smoothie..(???)..whatever. I love ya'll and want to thank you for the encouragement I've recieved from you lately. You guys mean the world to me :]