good music, good people, GOOD DAY

There are some days that are just so blatantly awesome that you know you'll remember them forever.

You know what I mean.

That one time you won the second grade spelling bee or went on your first date or found your favorite long-lost sweater.

Days that will go down in infamy....obviously.

The best part about this particular genre of days is recognizing its blatant awesomeness before the day actually ends, so you can take full advantage of the time you have left in the 24 hours to put your best efforts towards making it infamously incredible.

Today is one of those days.

Not for anything in particular...just because I physically cannot stop smiling (which, to those of you who haven't yet picked up on my off-handed description, suggests the rather delirious state of happiness in which I existed today).

So much so, in fact, that a random passerby stopped me to inquire just what I was smiling about.

:)

To everyone out there, I hope your day was as wonderful as mine...even if you did nothing at all noteworthy :) Goodnight :)

If you want to get a glimpse into my mood today, here's a little something that might help you out: click here.

"These are a few of my favorite things..."

Instead of writing an intensely long blog post this week, I've decided to take the easy way out and just show you all the creative portion to my UPB application. Enjoy :)

I think...

...I think too much.

Do you believe...

...in the American Dream?

It sounds a little pretentious, right? Three little words, one big idea: the back-bone of a nation founded on the beliefs of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, a major driving force that motivates many immigrants to persevere and gain freedom in a land of opportunity, and the overall belief that one can overcome financial and social obstacles to achieve one’s goals. Three little words you learned in history class, cushioned by lots of other words in your thick, heavy textbook; almost lost on the page next to black and white photographs of skyscrapers, ocean-liners, and smiling old men you didn't recognize. Three little words that contain a mouthful of meaning and substance for people who put their entire lives into these words, believing them, living them, chasing them.

But does it exist? The American Dream? Does it belong among the history books? It could be that your premonition about the American dream is as though it is a little outdated, something to be cast aside with other grand ideas that never came about. Cynics would scoff at the very thought of the American dream--it's an unattainable ideal to them, something you wish for when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake...something they categorize along with leprechauns, unicorns, fairies, flying reindeer. They equate it with imaginary things--intangible things you can't see or feel. It's something to make fun of.

Are they completely right?

I don't pretend to know, of course. I'm not a great philosopher. And I'm not a historian. I only know what I think--and I often don't even know that.

However, I would say that those three little words are associated with the utmost form of happiness that we, as humans, could possibly imagine. There is no real definition for it--it's a shapeless, ever-changing entity. To the woman in front of you in line at the supermarket, happiness is finding the right man, getting married, and having healthy children by the time she is 35. To the family of immigrants at the JFK airport, happiness is embodied in the ticket they're holding--a ticket signifying a new life, a new place, a new home. To the little boy you see every day at the bus stop, happiness beeps, talks, and cost $19.95 at Toys R Us. For you, happiness could be sleeping in late...a good song on a radio...a trip to the beach...a new car...a relationship...winning the lottery.

When people are asked what they want most out of life, the most typical reply is “I want to be happy,” as if happy is some sort of place, either near or far away, like a petting zoo or Disneyworld or even some place in the clouds. Or perhaps it's something you grow into, like shoes or clothes. To a certain extent, happiness can be these things, but it is mainly a process fueled by attitude and the right mindset. But I don't think it's a place, or a person, or even an idea--it's a way of life.

To me, the American Dream is a glimmer of hope in a world full of darkness: something to strive for, live for, wish for. It's something to never let go of--but it doesn't consume you either. It just exists there, in the back of your mind, wishing with all it's might to come true.

If I had one wish--just one--it would be to never wake up from my American Dream :)

Creative Writing Piece #5893058

"Sweet dreams" you said,

Your breath hot as fresh bread

right out the oven. You smiled ear to ear in the dark.

We'd said almost nothing;

Silence interrupted by some song--either Zepplin or Sting--

on your car radio. Sky lit up like the ballpark

on the Fourth of July.

You said, "Doesn't time fly?"

Tryin' to make conversation

but not expecting an answer.

Silence spreading like cancer,

save the radio station.

And now it's September;

But don't you remember

Those endless summer nights of ours?

Moonless skies, a blanket of stars,

A picnic dinner and old binoculars

stolen quick from my Ivory Tower.

You were so very proud of your prize:

"Pulled the wool right over his eyes!"

Out way after curfew, parents both asleep.

Mom didn't care, but Dad didn't approve

Because of something you would say, think, or do.

He'd sworn up and down you were a creep.

You wearing your smirk

So pleased with your work;

Filling your head with hot air.

You'd regale me with your stories,

Your pitfalls, dreams, and well-deserved glories,

An "I love you" mixed in there somewhere.

You were cute in your own way, you know?

I knew you cared even when you didn't say so...

I could tell 'cause you got sort of jealous when the other boys stared.

It was young love, wasn't it?

It was, of course. But we wouldn't admit it.

So we just laughed it off.

I loved that you didn't force me to connect

with you--you made me so nervous! You were perfect;

You laughed with your eyes, knew how to dance, sang "Hey Jude" in the shower and made beef stroganoff...

And you were always right--right as rain.

I was inspired by Delillo and Twain

and Hemingway and Faulkner and the dead

Who were impacting the living.

But your look was so unforgiving.

I was just saying whatever popped into my head.

I loved you. You loved me.

We were just too different to simply be.

I just wanted to be remembered, that's all.

I didn't mean to bring it up.

We sat awhile, then packed your truck

And took one last drive past Mr. Jae's house, the middle school, and city hall.

One final kiss under our paper mache sky

Listening to the crickets' lullaby

And basking in the sweet by and by of it all.

DISCLAIMER: None of the aforementioned events ever occurred; nor are they based on real-life persons, places, or occurrences :)

I Believe in the Beauty of Dreaming

tick tick tick tick tock

I feel like it's been ages since I've updated my blog...I've been caught up with Orientation (which, by the way, I miss terribly) and the start of the new school year so hopefully my tardiness is forgiven :)

Anyway, here's a little bit of prose to get the ball rolling for September; I started writing it awhile ago and just stumbled upon it again the other day...enjoy :)

Have you ever noticed how much time is wasted in a day? The time you spend doing absolutely nothing at all, but staring off into space without a thought in your head or a word in your mouth or a purpose in your heart? The time you spend in transit from one place to the next—from the grocery store to a restaurant to a concert to your job…what about those? All those mundane tasks you do rather mechanically--robotic, even--muscle memory going about it's business, folding laundry, cooking dinner, getting dressed. It's noon, it's 3:00, it's 8;37, it's time for bed. Day in, day out, shuffling to and fro, tick tock, tick tock. Where do all the empty seconds go?

We're "wasting time", "killing time", and occasionally "using our time wisely". We "take the time" to do the things we most want to, but we can't be bothered to use our "precious time" to do others. Time "flies", "goes by". "Time is what we want most, but what we use worst".

Tick, tock, we're on the clock, saving daylight and setting alarms, waking up late and rushing around, errand after errand, meeting after meeting, time after time.

Last night I met with some of my friends to sit around, watch a movie, and simply enjoy each other's company. How many times have you done that? How much time have you spent that you've forgotten because it wasn't headline news, but it made you smile at the time--made you who you are? I don't know how long we stayed there--to you, we could have been wasting our time away--talking one moment and being silent the next, doing nothing with our time except enjoying it.

I don't think silence means wasting time.

I don't think doing something "meaningful" with your time necessitates using it properly.

But I've been taught--through experience and through simple human inference--that time is fleeting and, if you let it do so, it can push you headfirst into the thrashing whir of life and you'll begin to lose seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years of memories if you don't make every possible second count...

...sometimes...

...all the time...

...anytime...

...if life were an equation, here's how it would go: time doesn't count. People count, laughs count, tears count, places count, memories count, you count.

So thanks for spending your time with me :)