Journey

I was tempted to switch things up again and write about how much I love the songs “Don’t Stop Believing” and “Faithfully,” but hey, this is a personal blog and if everyone else is writing about their own little insignificant lives too, then why can’t I? Also, I wouldn’t have anything significant to say about the band, so this would be a short post, and I would probably write, “They’re pretty good, but I also like listening to the Glee versions of their songs. Sorry,” then call it a day. Continue reading

Empty

I’m confused, since this is where I would usually put the subheading from The Daily Post, but it appears as if things have changed, and I haven’t adapted yet.

To my .534 fans out there: Hey! I’m back!

I was going to start out by saying how it’s been a while since I’ve blogged, but then I realized how many blog posts I’ve started in this same way and I had to stop myself. Blogging every day is hard… but here’s why I’m back:  Continue reading

Welcome, Stranger

Think about the town where you currently live: its local customs, traditions, and hangouts, its slang. What would be the strangest thing about this place for a first-time visitor?

For the sake of my privacy since I don’t believe in advertising all of my personal information on the web, I’m going to rename my hometown Hippyville. Hell, I’ve probably called it that from time to time anyway.  Continue reading

August Blues

As a kid, were you happy or anxious about going back to school? Now that you’re older, how has your attitude toward the end of the summer evolved?

We’ve all heard it before.

“I’m not ready for this summer to be over!”

“Ugh, I don’t want to back to school yet.”

I just don’t agree with them.

As a kid, my family wasn’t big into vacations. We’d go on a nice weekend trip to see family, but never anything like a trip to Disneyland or a week-long cruise. Don’t worry, Mom and Dad; I’m not mad about that. Looking back, that trip to Disneyland probably would’ve been a nightmare compared to those trips I loved to take to Connecticut to see my aunt and uncle. Give me the Mark Twain house over two-hour-long lines for everything any day. I’m being completely serious here.  Continue reading

Odd Trio Redux

Time for another Odd Trio prompt: write a post about any topic you want, in whatever form or genre, but make sure it features a slice of cake, a pair of flip-flops, and someone old and wise.

A lot of great things happened the day I turned eight. It was a time when I worried less about boys and school, and more about making Mom and Dad laugh and carrying the basket of eggs carefully enough to leave each one without a crack. Not once did I ever actually make it to the house without gooey yolk dripping out of the basket, but I tried nonetheless.

I ran into my grandmother’s house laughing, despite hearing the second egg crack. What was that amazing smell? My mother scolded me and took the basket away before I could do any more damage, and the instant she did I was off and running again, trying to find Dad. I heard him before I saw him; I always did. At the end of the long dinner table, he sat smiling and talking with Grandma. As soon as he caught my eye, he paused and prepared himself while I ran right up to him and jumped in his lap. My flip-flops flew off my feet, but I left them lying on the floor in disarray. I rarely wore shoes on Grandma’s farm. Besides the dog and chicken poo that littered the yard, what was there to step in? Nothing dangerous, so it didn’t matter.  Continue reading