My Life In 10 Songs or Less...

I. Love. Music. It gives me life. It describes my life. In fact, the music that I love doesn't belong to one specific genre. Its just music that fits or describes a time in my life. If I can relate to it, I love it. Its that simple.

There's a reason my Ipod is named Donny. Which is short for "Il Donatore Di Vita." Which is Italian for "The giver of life." Appropriate? I think so. I listen to music almost constantly. Its more than background music to me. Its my soundtrack. And thats the point of this whole post. If your life had a soundtrack, what would the songs be? I have the list planned out. If my life were a movie, these songs would play and they would play in this order. As painstaking as the narrowing-down process was, I limited myself to 10 songs. Any more and it would run the risk of just being a list of songs I like. This is as brief as I could manage. And even then, there are two or three songs protesting to gain their rightful place on this list. Maybe I'll add them sometime. For now, they just feel too honest.

So this is it. My life in 10 songs. Feel free to listen to them all. (I provided links for all of them like the swell guy I am.) Or listen to a few. It doesn't really matter. But if you want to know the gist of my story they're all in these songs. Of course, some things are left out. Whole songs would have been perfect, but I just wanted 10.

I'll admit. I'm tempted to explain why I chose each specific one. But frankly, I'd rather no one knew. Besides, you probably wouldn't care. All you need to know is that each song has a specific moment or person it reminds me of.

God. Family. Friends. Enemies. My Best Friend. They're all in there. So are moments of Salvation, Renewal, Heartbreak, Fear, Courage, and Love. Its quite a story if you ask me. But, then again, I'm a little bit biased.

1. In Christ Alone - Owl City

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGeBY4tw_vA)

2. It Ends Tonight - The All-American Rejects

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfdAGkjHGac)

3.Who I Am Hates Who I've Been - Relient K

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EEN8sSTjfLU)

4. I Am Understood? - Relient K

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oc7HzFtNg4)

5. Without You - Brighten

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oQqiehup0w)

6. King For A Day - Forever The Sickest Kids

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmMZ_mn4Bpk)

7. Setting Sail - Port Blue

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsNLiKqL_ls)

8. Louder Than Words - Heyhihello

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IGg6g5mvN4)

9. Lead Me - Sanctus Real

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLr6G8Xy5uc)

10. Look After You - The Fray

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iYOOuJLuaY)

 

Me, Myself, and Tommy Page.

Many a night I've spent wondering why I exist. I now know the answer to it.

I am a hodge-podge. A mash-up of sorts. I'm not my own person. I'm two people morphed into one. And I'm beginning to accept my fate. For a while now, I've known about this celebrity from the 80's who looks eerily similar to me. His name is Tommy Page. (Don't believe me? Scroll down to the bottom...) Until now, I've chalked it up to him being my much-older doppelganger. I have discovered it to be something far more sinister than that.

In my perusing of Facebook, I discovered something. I was looking for a certain girl named Meg's fanpage. In searching for it, I stumbled upon the profile of another (more than one, in fact) girl with the same name.

It was then that a thought clicked in my head. I decided to search for people on Facebook with my name. I know, I know. Its far from a novel idea. I've done it a few times before. But what I discovered this time was surprising.

A ways down the list, was a guy with exactly the same name as me. He was dressed as Woody and standing next to a Toy Story 3 poster.

Using this information, I have deduced what happened. Someone cloned Tommy Page, gave the clone that other Nate's personality and name, and then swapped the clone (That's me) with the baby my parents actually had. I haven't figured out why. My first step is to track down both Tommy Page, and the other Nate. Oh and my parents' real kid, I guess. I might as well.

All I know is that the person behind this has sinister intentions, and I'm not a human being in the normal sense of the word. So much makes sense now.

Not entirely thrilled about being thrilled.

Maybe I have such a hard time in life because I don't stay focused. While I should be focusing my attention on getting my labradoodle to sit still long enough to slip a leash over his snout, I'm thinking philosophical thoughts about how I can apply that understanding to my life.

Yesterday morning I said Shiloh's most favorite word in all the world. You see, the dog adores going for walks. You'd think he actually enjoys exercise. Its his favorite thing in the entire world. Im willing to bet if he had to choose between protecting me from any sort of danger and going for a walk, not only would he choose the walk but he'd be wagging his tail the whole time. THATS how much he loves them. I just hope I'll never need his protection after someone has said the "W-A-L-K" word.  Its ok though, he'd be useless anyway.

When I was thinking about this I realized that, in a way, its kind of like the attitude I have when I want something. Maybe its something big like adulthood, or something small like a new CD. But I always have that tail-wagging kind of enthusiam. I just can't wait! Its certainly not a bad thing. To want certain things, like growing up or a CD of your favorite band. As long as its all in perspective. The problem I run into is the same one Shiloh does. (Yes, I see the irony that my impatient and energetic dog's name means "peacefulness.")

In my haste and excitement to have what I want, I actually stall its arrival. For example, when I finally get all the things necessary to take Shiloh out on this excursion he knows as a "walk" he's worked himself to such a frenzy that I have to spend a few minutes just getting him to sit still long enough to put the head-restraint on him. He knows I'm trust-worthy and that Im going to eventually get him what he wants: Relative freedom. But he's so impatient that he forgets to let me handle the details. So it takes longer. He still goes on the walk, but instead of spending an extra three minutes outside in the sunshine he's running around inside the house because he's just too darn enthusiastic.

I know that God wants me to be happy, but other things are more important in God's eyes than my happiness. He wants me to be content with whatever He has given me at my specific point in life. And not let my frustration at waiting for what I want so badly, rob me of the joy found in the gifts God has given me already. I have to keep everything in the perspective of eternity. Its hard when Im caught up in myself and what I want, but thats what God is trying to get through my thick skull. That the here and now isn't all I should be living for. He has a plan and it doesn't just revolve around me growing up and getting what I want. The most important thing He's preparing me for isn't my earthly marriage or my earthly responsibilities, its my marriage to Him and responsibilties in Heaven that He's concerned about.

And of course He is! Thats what I was created for in the first place. Its all too easy to forget this, unless Im in prayer and seeking to know God more deeply each and every day. When I sit back and consider the possibility that my waiting period actually has nothing to do with me, I can't help but feel selfish. Maybe God's seemingly slow pace is to teach me patience or faith, or maybe its so that I can be in just the right place when God is going to use me in the future to lead someone to Him. Maybe its both. Maybe its neither. And there's no way to tell. Any guesses I make are useless. I can't know. I won't know until after it all happens. But its not my job to know why, its my job to trust that God knows why. I have to trust that He has a reason for all this, and that its a good one.

I highly doubt I'd be regretful if I got to heaven and found out that someone else got to be in the presence of Almighty God for eternity merely because I was willing to be patient when I wanted something and wait for God's leading. Im not saying that every decision we make has such far-reaching consequences, but what if we lived like they did? Not paralyzed by fear of the unknown, or making a huge mess in our haste to get things done, but trusting in God and waiting for His perfect timing. At the very least, the time spent waiting would fly by. And in the mean time, we'd find the thing we really should have been impatient for all along: Our gradual transformation into Christ's likeness.

II Corinthians 5:21 For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. (NKJV)

"Listen here, Buddy. If you don't put that overly large biscuit back where it belongs in the next 4 seconds, I guarantee you that you'll end up with a bruise roughly the same size and shape of Oklahoma quicker than you can say 'My Uncle Scott's jackrabbit ripped out my pituary gland during a routine check-up.' Whatever you do, don't place it next to the dinosaur nostrils, you deranged dingbat. Unless you WANT a Idahoan bruise. Then by all means, test my patience."

Dear Person I Just Made Up,

HI! Im gonna name you Jeeves in the honor of another made-up guy who was named "Jeeves" off-handedly by yet another made-up guy. Confused? Yeah...thats ok. Your made-up brain can only handle so much. I'll give you a high-five for trying. "A" for "Affort", right?

From the bottomestliest deepest pit of my heart from which my wealth of love springs forth,
The Guy Who Invented You

P.S. If you don't mind, I'll use your name as a cover from now on. Whenever I want to write a scathing letter to someone but not actually use their name, I'll just use yours. Im sorry. Its nothing personal. Im not sure why I chose you...the name "Jeeves" just makes me laugh...

Dragons Are Sweet.

Dear Readers Who Are Just Reading This Out of A Sense of Duty and a Reluctance To Be Classified as a Horrible Person, Because It Would Be Rude Not To Read The Blog of Someone You Claim To Love (A.K.A. Meg and Mom.),

My life is beyond repair. Here I sit, forlorn and abandoned in a hopeless world. The day has been a thorn in my side. But it is nearly over. Monday is about to begin. Yet I'm still moderately depressed.

I have a predicament. I could really go for some Dragon Fruit Sobe. It is one of my favorite beverages. And it has great stress-relieving qualities. There's just one problem...for the longest time now it has been out of existence. (I know, right?!?) I've looked everywhere. It just isn't there. Its like some sneaky elf went around and began hoarding them all in his trailer home behind some sub shop in south western Indiana. I'm furious.

So furious, in fact, that I plan on tracking down this low-life and giving him a piece of my mind. In exchange for a Dragon Fruit Sobe, of course. And, believe me, I will find him. And he will rue the day he crossed me. I will begin my search THIS. VERY. NIGHT! As soon as Im done my glass of Orange juice...

Sincerely,
Hiram The Nate

P.S. Contrary to appearances, the title has absolutely nothing to do with the topic. I refuse to explain it, because frankly, that would ruin the magic that exists only in my mind. I will however hint that it is two inside jokes with two different people smashed together. Good luck with the head-scratching.

P.P.S. Did I say "Head-scratching"? I meant "Not-caring."

The Top 10 Staredowns of ALL TIME!!!

I'm fairly certain this doesn't need an explanation or my commentary. So I'll just jump right in.

10. The one between Greg and his great-uncle's sheepdog, Xavier, right before their Guitar Hero showdown.

9. This is a 3-Googleplex-way tie between the stare-downs of every western movie ever made. You know, the part where they're both fingering their guns and waiting for the other to make a move? Yeah, that part.

8. The one that occurred after I stole Meg's meatball.

7. Let's just say that the first hip-hop artist ever, a bald llama, and a time-travelling boom box were all involved. No one within a hundred miles survived the encounter.

6. ...You don't want to know...

5. Someone stole Oprah's pencil in the 3rd grade...

4. Well, you see, its like this...Way back in the 1100's, a Knight named Sir Relphus was trying to fight a dragon to rescue a princess. It took the poor guy 20 years. Finally, when he killed the dragon he hurried through its lair looking for the princess. But she was gone. Three years later at a dinner party, he saw that very same princess with his brother, Sir Getrish. So he shoved a turkey leg up his nose (Don't ask...). The stare-down that resulted lasted for three days. Eventually King Arthur attmepted to break it up because it was getting awkward eating while they just stared. Which is how King Arthur got that little-known scar on his elbow.

3. Matt Damon isn't a fan of overcooked asparagus...

2. About three hundred years from now, an alien and the Emperor of Greenland will try to grab the same corn muffin at an "Accept Our Extraterrestrial Friends" all-you-can-eat buffet. Entire galaxies were destroyed.

1. The one that occurred after I grinned after I stole Meg's meatball. (I know it sounds familiar but its actually an entirely different stare-down than 8. If you'd been there you would understand.)

Me and my cursed pipe dream.

Do you ever get the itch to put the images you have in your head regarding certain phrases we hear everyday into the way you see them? I do. Which is my reason for making this post. Whenever I hear the word "cursor" this is what I think of... 

 

Or the term "pipe dream"... I wonder who would dream about pipes. This one is tricky though. I have two images in my head fight for my attention. First the traditional image...

Boring, I know. Which is why I have the geeky image...

Yes. I know. I'm a dork. Most people hear the term "Pipe dream" and they think of unattainable wishes. I think of an Italian plumber with a mantastic (Thats "Man" and "fantastic" smashed together.) moustache. That's all, really. Just some weird, nightmarish ideas courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Hiram The Nate.

What "Magnificent" sounds like to me...

Sure, the average person probably goes to a dictionary to solve this problem. I go to the convoluted mess that is my mind. The way I see it there are only four options...

1. A penny that is so small it can only be seen through a magnifying glass.
2. A british lemur working on its Russian Burp impression.
3. An afternoon devoted to sitting with my best friend on a field.
4. My impeccable sense of style. (Be honest. You're jealous.)

For obvious reasons, 4 is my favorite. With 1 and 2 fighting for second place. Im not sure how 3 got in there. Its not like its my inspiration for the entire topic...

Hello my name is..."Destroyer of RULES!!! MUHAHAHAHA" Don't worry. My parents learned their lesson and never bought a book of baby names from a late-night infomercial again.

"WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!" You're probably thinking. "What on earth is going on here? This guy always posts ONE post a day. Not two, not none, not 35, just one. What's this other one doing here?!"

Thats right. You aren't misreading the date. This is my second post today. I've officially broken my own rule, but not in the way you'd expect. Let me explain.

Today, is the day that will forever be remembered as the day that King Nate of Kemenbar had been dating Queen Meg of Kemenbar for 285 days. Sure, its a random number, but Im in a random mood. And, frankly, its an achievement that begs to be celebrated. So celebrate I will.

I decided to announce this little fact of our time spent dating in every possible way. They were as follows:

• As status updates on both Yahoo email accounts I have
• In emails from both Yahoo email accounts I have
• As a Facebook status
• As a Facebook wall post
• As a Facebook message
• In Facebook Chat
• As a message between our Youtube accounts
• With an old-fashioned phone call
• With a text
• On a writing forum I happen to be affiliated with
• In a letter
• And, finally, on this blog

Honestly, if I had sidewalk chalk I'd be using that too. The truth is, sometimes I think we need to get away from our own issues and problems by just making someone else's day. Maybe thats by making a complete fool out of yourself in your effort to tell them you love them. Maybe its celebrating even the teeny, tiny, almost microscopic milestones. Maybe its breaking a rule or two. I intend to do all of them as often as I can manage.

Besides, its not like I broke my "Don't go a day without posting" rule. I just broke my "Don't post more than once a day" guideline. AND this post is in "Georgia" not "Helvetica" which practically makes this like a parenthetical statement between posts. *shrugs* It matters not. As long as My Meg smiles just once from this endeavour it will be worth it. And, believe me, if you saw her smile, you'd agree.

To The Sky

Some songs just scream "Its ok to jump off a cliff, the air will hold you up." Oh, Im sorry. I meant, "ITS OK TO JUMP OFF A CLIFF, THE AIR WILL HOLD YOU UP!!!" To The Sky is a song by Owl City. It happens to be one of those songs. And this week is one of those weeks when its been running through my head. As I take step after step towards the proverbial cliff. Frankly, Im scared.

But here I go, once again ready to risk my life, my plans, and my safety. Im ready to jump.

I haven't the foggiest clue what will happen. But that isn't really necessary. (Random Song Quote Alert! Warning! If you're allergic to song quotes back away slowly. I promise it won't hurt you. 

"The end is uncertain
And I've never been so afraid
But I don't need a telescope
To see that there's hope
And that makes me feel
Brave "- Owl City)

But I couldn't live with myself not giving these steps a chance. I have to try. So, I'll stand and as I stand I'll be humming. I'll be humming reminders of why I'm jumping. (Random Song Alert #2 Same warning as before.

"And this is how I choose to live
As if I'm jumping off a cliff
Knowing that you'll save me"-Relient K)

I can feel my heart pounding. And my hand reaches, of its own accord, for a familiar hand. One it knows will always be within reach. I don't know where this will lead. I just know I'm heading where God is sending me. And I know that when I arrive, It'll be more incredible than I ever could have imagined. Until then, I have my dreams of that future time to hold me over. Dreams kind of like this...

"Travel light, let the sun eclipse you,
'Cause your flight is about to leave
And there's more to this brave adventure,
Than you'd ever believe"-Owl City

Matt Damon's opinion matters more than yours.

Sometimes the things I think about...its enough to scar anyone for life. You could take a hardened criminal, place him on the front lines in the most terrifying war in history for a thousand years, stick him between Justin Bieber and females for a few minutes, make him eat a live baby mouse, and then send him into my brain. Even with all that preparation he would stumble out muttering unintelligible things and shivering in under five seconds. I guarantee it.

For example, I was at work the other day. In the midst of insanity, my brain decided to one-up it all. For reasons I have long-since forgotten, I decided it would be a fantastic idea to change how I react to things. Instead of making known my own opinion about certain things, I'd make up what Matt Damon's is. I wish I could remember what prompted this. It would be great topic during my therapy sessions this week.

I'm tempted to continue frolicking down this path. Just hopping along on my merry little way. But that would leave me with a brutally long and tedious post. And, frankly, Matt Damon isn't a fan of those.

Black Ties Aren't Fair (Did you see that? Do you see what I did there? Its funny because... *Sighs* Nevermind.)

Hyperbole is generally forbidden on this blog. And thats just fine with me, because this isn't hyperbole. I HATE getting dressed up. Well, "Hated." Its growing on me. Like a parasitic virus. In more ways than one.

There are a fair amount of reasons for my strong distaste for the whole thing. Which, irony of all ironies, have become my reasons for liking it. The tie is both an irritation to me, and a great enjoyment. I hate the tightness, the act of tying it, and the constant fixing of it. However, there isn't much better than getting complimented on a particularily quirky tie. Oh and it makes me smile when I certain girl asks to pull on it.

And I haven't even mentioned the shoes. They annoy me, they're uncomfortable and tend to reek after a long shift, but at the same time I think they look rather dapper. In a Perry The Platapus' Hat sort of way.

In close proximity to the shoes are the socks. They are the worst part, smelling garbage dumpish no matter how long I wore them. Be it five minutes or 24 hours. They. Stink. I find absolutely no good thing in their existence. Im even considering a Black Sock Burning Party. After the Justin Bieber Poster Buring Party, of course. *thinks about that* That'd probably smell like a million dead skunks being roasted in their own urine. Scratch that. Unless, I can do it outside a Justin Bieber concert...Maybe I should keep these thoughts a secret...

Also, not much beats the feeling of taking off all that stiff clothing and replacing it with my favorite sweatshirt.

I guess my tastes can change. Things grow on me. And other things grow old. But it took being forced out of what I would call comfortable to discover that.

"Loneliness and solitude are two things not to get confused."

My head is still throbbing. And I never saw it coming. The day was a somewhat normal, if trying, day. I sat down in a pew towards the back of the church, with a whole bunch of familiar faces surrounding me. But they didn't feel familiar. All I could think about as I sat there was how disoriented and out-of-place I felt. It was an odd sensation. I nestled into a comfortable place in the pew, and shoved the day's frustration out of my mind.

No sooner did I do so, and I got spiritually whacked upside the head. It was jarring, but Im glad it happened. I feel like myself again. My terrified, unsure self. But at least its a start.

In the course of the sermon, some verses from Philippians Chapter 4 were read. (Thats the spiritual slap.) So if you don't mind, I'll take a brief respite from my usual loony ravings and settle on something more akin to musings. I'll begin my musings at Philippians 4:6-7 (KJV)...

 ⁶Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
 ⁷And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Other versions use "anxious" instead of "careful." On the surface, these verses seem wonderful. Full of rainbows and sunsets and happiness. Its always been one of those passages to me.

Tonight, it hit me in another way. I confess this freely. I. Am. Anxious. About everything. College. Marriage. My future career. In the next five or so years I'll be making so many life-shaping decisions. At times it scares me senseless. I just want to huddle in a corner and wait for the young adult years to pass. What if I make a mistake? What if I act too soon? Or not soon enough? What actions, or inactions, will I regret ten years from now?

I think those questions are, by themselves, harmless and even natural. But they also have the tendency to eat a person (namely me) up, similar to the way I would devour a gigantic steak smothered in copious amounts of A1 sauce. Besides, the verse tells us not to be anxious. How on earth are we supposed to do that? I don't think complete apathy to our life is what it means. It says to make our requests known to God through prayer.

I feel like I'll be bringing up old subjects a lot tonight. Sometimes I wonder why we don't just go right ahead and request what we want. Im not saying demand it, and we certainly won't get what we want all the time. But instead of letting a desire (A car, for example.) consume us and then when we do pray we dance around the subject like we're guilty because we have a want, why don't we just be blunt and state that we want something? Of course, we still have to keep in mind that God's plan is far better than ours.

We act like God is waiting to rip anything we want out of our lives just to torment us.

That seems directly opposed to Verse 7. Im not sure I have to explain Verse 7. I couldn't make it any more clear if I tried. I know all this, yet sooner or later I always end up taking my life back into my own hands. Only to re-re-re-re-learn that I can't do it. Thats usually when I come crawling back into my Savior's arms. Back into the "peace of God."

As all this was going through my head, II Corinthians 12:9-10 (Those are my favorite verses for anyone curious.) popped in there...

 ⁹And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
 ¹⁰Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.

Honestly, these verses have a habit of leaving me speechless. I am the definition of weakness. Seriously, look it up in the dictionary. You'll see my picture. The idea that Im the way I am so that God can use me for His glory is almost too much for me to comprehend. My fears, my insecurities, my issues, they all make sense now. Or, at least, they're starting to.

I'll admit. Its terribly tempting to focus on the last little bit of Verse 10. The whole "then am I strong" part sounds nice, doesn't it? I wish I could be strong automatically because of my weakness. But its still hard. God still has to chip away at my stubbornness piece by piece. Im far from strong.

But everytime I read these verses, thats not the part I focus on. I can't tear my eyes off of, "Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake." 

Enjoyment? Im supposed to be enjoying all of that awful stuff? Putting up with it, I can see. But finding pleasure in it? Being thankful for it? Thats just not possible. And maybe thats the point. I can't do it. Given enough selfish incentive I can struggle through distresses and persecutions and the like under my own power, but I'll never take pleasure in it. That can only be the work of God in my heart. Which I guess is what the verses are saying. God uses our weakness to showcase His strengths. Which I would guess is why He chose a shepherd to be king. And some fishermen to be apostles and prophets. How could any of that happen without God's hand behind it? It couldn't.

Now for the final verse, Im going back to Philippians 4. This time Verse 8...

⁸Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Chances are you've read this verse a million times. Its quoted in nearly every debate on the morality of certain entertainment choices. I think we're fitting a verse into our nifty little box, when it means so much more.

While it does apply there, I see another area we could be using this. Maybe its pushing us towards thinking thoughts like this...in general. We could choose to think about the unfairness of the world, or the bitterness of sin, but God asks us to think on His goodness. His creation. And His love.

I guess it comes back to the very name of this blog. I've already told you that "Sidereally Pensive" means "pondering in relation to the stars." I named it that for a very good reason. For as long as I can remember, when life got really insane I'd head to my familiar spot by my window, stare out into the night sky, and talk to God until I fell asleep.

Maybe its things like that, that the verse is refering to. Something as simple as staring at the stars just to be reminded of God's might. To think about those gigantic, swirling balls of burning gas unimaginably huge and hot. And to remember that the very same God who made them, also made me. And cares more about me (And humans in general), the shrivelled, dirty, weakling of a creation (which also describes humans in general), more than all the other creations in the universe. Be they planets, gravity, grass or giraffes. He loves me. I love Him. And maybe its time that I spend less time fretting over the relatively insignificant details of my life, and spend more time thinking about the simplicity and complexity of His Love.

If you understand me, then please explain me to me.

I just don't get it sometimes. The way my brain works. Its a like a rabid baboon ran over it with a tricycle in its haste to get to the Non-Picturesque Valley Sunrise Picture Festival. (You're probably thinking one of two thoughts. Thought #1: "Who would attend a Non-Picturesque Valley Sunrise Picture Festival? That seems contradictory to all logic." Thought #2: "Where?! I am SO going." Well I have a few things to say to those. Answer to Thought #1: "Baboons, of course. Sadly, they are the pioneers in today's photography trends. Its no small wonder that our art is in such poor shape..." Answer to Thought #2: "...You baboons can type remarkably well...")

I'd see a psychiatrist in the hopes that he could explain my brain to me, but honestly, I'd be worried that my brain would be such a conundrum to the poor guy that he'd stay up all night thinking about it. Which would cause him to sleep during the day. And thus miss his important meetings.

After doing this for several weeks, he would gain a reputation as an unprofessional slacker and would be forced out of his practice. Being poor and pressured from his wife to stop sitting around all day watching Dr. Phil while muttering about the unfairness of the universe, he would be inspired to write a book about me. Which would become an instant hit. So much of a hit, in fact, that he'd be asked to appear on Dr. Phil.

Unfortunately, the poor man would become so overwhelmed with emotion at finally being successful, that he would burst into tears and become a joke on Youtube. (Think Rebecca Black meets the Best Cry Ever guy...) Embarrassed beyond repair, he would change his name to Joel and live in a trailer park.

As you can see, that isn't an option.

So maybe I'll just announce this to the world. I'M CRAZY! Its been happening more and more often that I'll see something or hear something completely different then what it was in reality. I'd rather not get into all the crazy thoughts I've had this week. Most were quite embarrassing and involved me speaking without thinking. (Whatever you do, don't quiz Meg on any of these moments. She's been a witness to far too many of them.)

However, there is one story that isn't too bad to share. Ill explain just to give you an idea.

I was walking up the driveway in the general direction of our mailbox today. My mission was to retrieve the mail. And I was focused on that mission. It was a matter of li... "Hey! Look! A delivery truck!" I thought. All focus dissipated. A bright, yellow sticker on the truck's bumper attracted my attention. It said, "Components of this truck are permanently marked." That is not what I read. I read, "Confidently, this truck is completely naked."

I really have no witty comment to add. I think that paragraph speaks for itself. Im nuts. If you understand my brain, explain it to me. Actually...maybe its best I don't know...

5 B's.

Hi, I'd like you to meet someone.

His name is Brian Bear. (To clear up confusion, he's named after my dad, not my middle name. That'd just be arrogant. Even for a small child.) More specifically, his name is Brian Bear With a Beanie Bag Butt. He prefers Brian Bear and still despises my immaturity to name him something like that. His favorite color is blue. His favorite space in Battleship is "B5." And his favorite activity is to get sewn up after me bringing him everywhere causes him to fall apart.

Let me explain how this adorable bear-like creature came into my life. Megan had this awesome polka dotted stuffed bunny. I was admittedly jealous and actually borrowed the thing at every possible opportunity. My parents realized it was time to get me my own, and so went out in search of a stuffed bunny for me. I spent an entire evening pacing around the house out of excitement. Then my mom got home, and she handed me a bear. Not just a bear, but a bear with a bow on it!

I was a little disappointed. I hadn't really wanted a bear, but after some convincing I took the bow off of him and decided to give the bear a chance. Besides, he kind of looked like Winnie the Pooh. And that was always a plus. Then I discovered that his...um...rear was of the beanie bag variety. Just like that he captured the heart of an 8-year-old.

Years went by. He spent every single night nestled in my arms. We did most everything together. Except for things that could cause him harm. I was really protective of him. No one but my mom was allowed to touch him. Not friends, not siblings, just Mom. Yet the years still took their toll on his fuzzy body. He has more stitched up parts than a plastic surgery addict.

Im a 17 year old boy. I have a job, a license, a girlfriend, and Im even planning on taking college classes later this year. But Im still protective of my teddy bear. There are only two inanimate objects that rival him in importance. My Buzz and Woody toys. They are also in poor shape, but they're all mine. And they've been some of my best friends for years. I suppose its time I introduce them officially to the best friend who's going to outlast them. I think they'll be happy knowing I have the best replacement imaginable.

Bipolar in the shadow of the North Pole

"Brilliancy is nearly always foiled by New England weather. The rest of the time it is foiled by common sense, also known in some cultures as 'females.' In fact, I suspect a giant mob of common sense will murder me at any moment." - Me...about 4 seconds ago.

What started as a great thought, soon morphed into something ugly. Ugly means different, right? Hmm...Maybe I should check out one of them fancy dictionaries...

I was contemplating what to ramble on about today. There were so many ideas to get to, but one was standing out. I remembered that a few days ago  when the weather was warming up and it felt spring-ish, I had spring-ly thoughts darting around in my head. Then it left. I moved on to other things. Today, when I learned it was supposed to be a glorious day, I got excited. I could get around to writing down the nagging thoughts of the past week!

So, when I turned the knob of my front door this morning, my brain was thriving with thoughts and descriptions. How would I explain the first taste of sweet spring air? What would it feel like? I twisted the knob and breathed in deep. I blinked. You could almost hear the sound of wise sayings and eloquent spring speeches jumping off a precipice.

The air didn't feel like spring at all! Summer had snuck up behind it and carried away my friend, Spring. Nasty thief that he is, Summer didn't wait long enough for me to explain my predicament to him in a very mature Man-to-Season fashion.

All this was jarring, mind you. But I am not one to be easily shaken. I gathered myself and prepared a new plan. Ill explain the first taste of summer instead. Cunning, I know.

It was all wonderful. Nearly magical, in fact. The slight stickiness of my jeans to my legs. The cool, March breeze stroking my skin. The sun was warm and felt like candy on my skin and tongue. I found myself breathing deeply as the stale winter air was purged from the New England atmosphere. As night descended around me, it only got better. I had my arm around this cute girl I know. My shoes slapped along a sidewalk, taking me one step at a time to an unknown adventure. I would have held my breath in anticipation, but breathing gave me too much pleasure. I missed this. Every single part. For months, I've put a smile on while it snowed time after time. Even when frigid winds bit into me through my cozy coat. This felt like shaking it all off.

I was at home. Then like a particularily stubborn band-aid being pulled off, the aforementioned cute girl informed me of the looming certainty of a return to cool, damp air. I felt instantly broken. Just like that, it was all taken away. So here I sit. Saying goodbye to an old friend whose visit was far too short. I miss you already, Summer. Come back soon.

Sincerely,
Your Passionate Fan Even When All The Other New Englanders Grow Sick of Yet Another "Scorcha" And Complain Until I Suspect Their Mouths Will Abandon Their Faces In Complete Disgust of Their Unthankfulness

On second thought...just call me Nate.

There are midnight snacks, and then there are Midnight Snacks.

I've been classified as many things. Crazy. Awesome. A King. Sweet. Cool. Nice. Annoying. Idiotic. Insensitive. Too sensitive. Stunningly handsome. A jerk. A wuss. The list goes on. And on and on and on. But there's one thing I can't remember ever being called, "The Eater of Odd and Potentially Vomit-Inducing Midnight Snacks."

And, frankly, Im disappointed. Its a title I think I've earned. Last night, for example. I logged off the computer at around midnight. The house was dead silent, with all its other occupants snoring and drooling in their beds. I stretched my computer-chair-weary legs. My empty stomach growled, effectively shattering the peacefulness from just a moment before. I was a little worried of Shiloh thinking some kind of woodland creature had entered our house without his permission. And that he would begin to protest.

I needed to fill my stomach quickly to avoid certain catastrophe. So, I ripped open the fridge. There was nothing worth eating. I tore through the cabinets one by one. Nothing. Nothing. Just some gross grape poptarts. (I wasn't THAT desperate.) Nothing. Nothing. And nothing. I sighed. It was hopeless. We had nothing to eat.

Just as I was about to scavenge for food in the basement, something caught my eye. Pita bread! It was just what I needed. I grabbed some, but after one bite, I realized it was far too bland by itself. It needed something. Something interesting.

The first thing that popped into my head was barbeque sauce. Again, I opened the fridge, this time with a mission. I grabbed the barbeque sauce, and, in a moment of inspiration rivaled only by the creation of aglets, snatched up the ranch dressing as well.

After spending about ten minutes dipping in the weird combination of sauces and then snacking on the strips of bread, I decided that it wasn't too terrible of a snack. Not that anyone will believe me. No one will be crazy enough to eat stuff like that. They'll do the "normal" thing and grab a piece of chocolate cake, or head over to Taco Bell. Meanwhile, Ill be sitting by myself at my table and happily munching on snacks that only cause shudders in most people.

Dear...Nobody

You might not know this, but... Im a muss. Part man. Part wuss. *nods* Its true. And I've begun to accept it as such. Now there's a funny thing about us musses. We often have deep philosophical thoughts floating around in our heads. Especially when we write a blog post the night before about promising to be more creative. Or when we witness the first flight of a baby robin as it leaps from the secure nest and into the unkown blue sky trusting only its frail wings to keep it from certain death. Either one of those has that effect.

These deep thoughts have to come out somehow. They were so burdensome that I couldn't sleep last night, so I decided to try something new. I wrote my thoughts out in a letter. But I wrote it like I would if I could be sure of no one ever seeing it. I haven't fully decided if I want it to be seen by eyes other than mine.

After I was finished writing it, (It was a time of night that I should probably keep to myself or risk getting stern glares from responsible adults.) I drifted off to sleep quite easily. It was as if all those thoughts had disappeared merely because I put them into the physical world. Just before unconsciousness took me, I had one thought replacing them all: Why don't we pray like that?

Why don't we pray as if no one, but God, could hear us? Im not implying that God doesn't count as a someone.  It just seems like, for myself at least, the temptation is to hold our weaknesses back. Do we forget that God knows it anyway? Better than we do. Yet when I pray I still hold back the not-so-wonderful parts of me. I think Im going to change that now. Im guessing it will help quite a bit.

In fact, I think honesty with everyone would be a good change for humanity. I don't mean dumping your life story on the cashier at the supermarket merely because she asked you how you're day has been. But whats the use of keeping secrets from those who we know really love us? Whether its a best friend, or a parent, or a sibling. Im fairly certain they can handle most of our secrets. Now, lest you think Im being hypocritical, I will do the same. Ill let my best friend read my unreadable letter. If she can't love me, while knowing that stuff, then no one can.

Deadlines? Aptly named, I think.

I rather despise deadlines. The night sort of disappeared before I realized and Im left with no time to write anything witty. Except of course about my inability to be witty. I wanted to post something every day and after only a few weeks, it seems lame to stop now. So ill just yammer on for a moment. Please don't get mad and have me executed quite yet. I promise to have something more intelligent tomorrow. You can dismantle my limbs then. In the meantime, Im going to listen to some loud music so I don't have to hear to the sharpening of weapons. Lets hope my creativity doesn't fail me tonight.

Faces In Unexpected Places

I have to confess. My brain provided way too many things to write about today. It seems like a good problem to have, except for the fact that Im indecisive today. I can't choose between them. Besides, I stepped a bit out of my comfort zone the last few days and wrote about somewhat serious subjects. Ill admit, I expected to be left with a bunch of people painfully unimpressed. Thats not exactly how it went. I can't describe how great it feels to write a story and have it actually be mine for once. I have a hard time believing it is mine sometimes.

So, I guess thats the main idea today. Im lucky. Almost to the point of ridiculousness. If I had had this last year explained to me when I was younger, I would never have believed it. Its too crazy. Too amazing. But here I am. Stuck trying to wipe off yet another huge grin off my face before someone notices and starts asking questions.

This is the evil, masterful plan my brilliant mind came up with to distract you all. Im going to show you a bunch of smiles. From inanimate objects. Maybe its the way my brain works, but I see faces everywhere. Most of the images I remember vividly are due to a face-like structure that I see in a seemingly average thing. So here they are. The faces I see...

Sure, I cheated a little bit here, by adding some Sharpie pupils, but you can't tell me that isn't stankin' adorable. Such noble indifference from plastic. Its refreshing, really.

This is actually the picture that began my hobby of taking pictures of the faces I see. The frost grin just makes this perfect. On top of that, I took this on a day that I was going to spend with a certain girl named Meg. I felt like the frost and wheels were copying my face.

Its a few holes from the coat hooks in the back room at work. I thought it was rather cute.

The top of some super fancy cleaner thing-y, whose name I have long since forgotten. Oddly, this reminds me of a Ninja Turtle...

This is my friend the outlet. He's obviously shocked at my incredible good looks.

Maybe Im crazy, but I see two faces here. The first one has the thick, bold line as the mouth. And the second one is with that line being a moustache and the smaller line below it being the mouth.

I think of the first face as a hungry dude in line at McDonald's dreaming of his oh-so-close Big Mac. Possibly with some drool dripping out the side of his mouth.

The second face is Italian, of course. I think he's making some mushroom pizza for me. You know, now that I think about it, Its a little odd that I associated the stove knobs with two different kinds of food... I should go eat something...

This is either something out of Beauty And The Beast, or the closest physical representation to the "=)" emoticon the universe has ever seen.

I feel like he's mocking me...

Technically, this one is mouth-less. But if you ask me, it only adds to his charm. The poor guy has probably been insulted in such a fashion that not only did he shut up, but his mouth disappeared entirely. In response to this tragedy, I did the only thing I could do. I set up a charitable organization. If you'd like to donate, please call 1-800-YOUD-OREA-LIZE-THAT-YOUR-ETRY-INGT-ODON-ATET-OASM-OKED-ETEC-TORS-CHAR-ITYR-IGHT (1-800-9683-6732-5493-8428-9687-3879-4648-6366-2838-6276-6533-3832-8677-2427-4897-4448) Is it just me, or are these phone numbers getting longer? I remember the good ole 52-digit days.

I cheated with this one too, but can you really blame me? Its so simple yet awesome.

Thats all I have so far. I'll post more as I get them. I hope they made you smile.

-Hiram The Nate

Dream Whatever Relative Size You Prefer

Note: When reading this, if at all possible, please play this song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsNLiKqL_ls) in the background. It was my inspiration for this long-winded speech.

I don't believe in small dreams. Or big ones for that matter. Dreams are both big and small and neither all at once. Im probably not making much sense, so let me define dreams as I see them.

Im not talking about dreams of become President one day or running a marathon. Sure, we may think longlingly and even dream about those things, but they are really only part of what makes a dream a dream. They are just goals.

I also don't mean that period between wakefulness and deep sleep when our minds are playing some sort of jumbled, messed-up movie. The confusion over why you went from explaining about how quantam physics centers around the relation of pancakes to syrup in Arkansas' diners to your Uncle Louie, to leaping off a cliff and falling for an eternity, doesn't matter in the slightest. Again, thats just part of what dreaming is.

Then what is dreaming, exactly? Its a mindset. A way of looking at the world as if each day its entirely new. Realizing just how blue the sky is. Or how cool a freshly-melted stream of water feels rushing over your fingers. Its noticing the things no one else bothers to care about. As children, we all were held in awe at every seemingly little thing. After a few years though, that vanished and we were left cynical. As if nothing could be wonderous after we've seen it a few times or given it a scientific name. I make a habit of noticing those things every day. I think about why the world is the way it is, and what it would be like another way.

I must confess though that most of my great, creative thinking happens in the wee hours of the morning. Its then that the future seems so much closer and life doesn't seem so flat. Honestly, if I could make it nighttime constantly, I would. Im not sure what good all this dreaming will do me, but that isn't the point. The point is to enjoy it. To relish thoughts of how great the future will be, to chuckle at the ludicrous plots my brain comes up with when left to its own devices, but most of all just to notice things. God's things. Maybe its realizing how great it is just to hold a certain person's hand, or how alive you feel when your heart is pounding out of your chest after a particularily strenuous workout, or maybe even how close the Creator of the universe feels after talking to Him for a long while. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say thats why we're here in the first place. Its what we were created for.

Unstrayified- The Blog Post.

     Today is a very special day for me. Its the 11th. Im sure most people think its a normal day. Its anything but. I was planning on posting all about this girl I know. But I read her blog (http://middleofnowhere3.blogspot.com/) and she inspired me to put a slightly different twist on it. Im going to fill in some details. My side of the story. As with hers, be prepared for sappiness.
     Im not sure where to begin. So lets just start where I did. At the beginning. I didn't know this at the time, but my life was changing drastically. My family was looking for a church. That was a big deal. Everything seemed like an adventure. I had no idea what was going to happen, or where my life was heading. Ever so slowly, God squeezed each and every drop of stubbornness out of me. I learned to trust Him. During this period of major upheaval, I did something weird. I gave the last thing I had been keeping under my control. I mean, sure at youth group and in sunday school I would say all the right things. I would say that God was in charge of my life and my relationships. He wasn't.
      So one night I stayed up late. I prayed for a long time. In my heart, I gave up the last bit of control I still had. I decided to let God choose a girl for me and bring her into my life. After all, that was how it was supposed to be, right? I'd go off to college, meet the perfect girl, we would have the perfect relationship. My life wouldn't be hard. I just had to focus on the right things. 
      Then we went to Salem Bible Church. I was all set. There was a whole new group of people to get to know. What better way to distract myself? Then something happened. For the first time in years I was off my guard. I wasn't looking for "The girl." That night I met her. I was talking to her dad and brother about ways to get to their house for a teen activity. She walked in. The little bit of understanding I had just gained about their house's whereabouts vanished. All I could think about was the really cute girl who had just walked in the room. I tried not to let myself get too smitten too soon. I had a plan to follow! Not two weeks earlier, I had given that very area of my life to God. I couldn't take it back so soon.
       We were introduced. And in less then a few seconds I blew it. My brain froze. I didn't know if it would be weird to shake her hand. So I kind of stuck my hand out then took it back just as fast. I left that night sure she thought I was a weirdo. She'd probably writen me off. But what did it matter anyway? I had my plan.
       Months drifted by. I fought the urge to stare at the girl who just seemed different. I had no idea why. Something just drew me to her. Eventually, she coaxed the weird part of me out into the open. And, to my surprise, she didn't run away. Friendship flourished. A kingdom was born. My attraction to her grew every day. I found myself unable to go a single day without communicating with her somehow. We became best friends. She was more like me than anyone else I'd ever met. She made me nervous, and she calmed me all at once. Almost without knowing it, I gave my heart to her. I began sharing my deep, dark, ugly secrets. Things no one else knew. Except for one secret. I really liked her. And I couldn't tell her. So I kept it hidden. I didn't tell her how pretty I thought she was, or how wonderful her laugh sounded, or how her smile was enough to kill me. I kept it to myself.
      One night we were talking. She told me something I had been expecting but a little afraid to hear. She said she liked me. I didn't really know what to say. Looking back, it would have been easy. I could have very simple confessed my feelings for her. Instead I stumbled around to them. A month or so went by. It was a strange month. Kind of in between dating and friendship. I knew I had to move it along. Being stuck there was becoming unbearable. So I got up the courage and talked to her father about us dating. I seriously misunderstood the conversation we had, because as far as I was concerned the answer had been somewhere between "no" and "maybe later." I spent a day being depressed. After I told Meg, I went for a very long walk. I needed to think. It took several miles, but eventually I came to grips with the situation that didn't exist. I decided that God had obviously brought this amazing girl into my life for a reason. I just needed to be patient. I resigned myself to waiting roughly 6 months and bringing up the subject again. I got home, logged onto facebook, and not 20 minutes later found out something unbelievable. I had misunderstood the whole thing. We could date.
       So we started dating. Time inched by. Together, Meg and I learned how to handle a whole host of complicated issues. Its been incredible and far from easy. I really don't know what Im doing half the time. But I know two things. God brought this amazing, beautiful girl into my life. And I can't stand the thought of her leaving my life. Sure, it will be hard. It already has been. We'll have to be patient now since we're so young. But I have something I never had before. I have her. The girl i will spend the rest of my life with. The girl I will marry. Someday. Quite a while from now.
         A lot of things have to happen first. And honestly, we have so much to learn. But we will learn it. And we will be there eventually. Someday, Im going to go back to this blog post. Im going to sit my beautiful wife down and read this to her. And we'll chuckle at our frustration of the long years ahead. And then we'll head off to have some adventures. Adventures God knew all about during those nights I couldn't stand being alone any longer. The ones He had in mind every time something happened that I didn't understand then. Adventures He knows all about now, when Im terrified of what the future holds. Most of its a mystery. Two things are certainties. I have God. And I have Meg. The rest can and will wait.
        Believe me, with 9 months of two of the weirdest people on the planet dating, there are countless stories I could tell of our time dating. I chose not to. Not yet anyway. Some are private. Others can wait. Ill get to them someday. Today, I wanted to make one thing abundantly clear. There is a girl named Meg, and she is in love with me. Not because I did anything, but because God's been doing things inside of me. I don't deserve her. I never will. In the words of one of my favorite songs, "I may feel like a fool, but Im the only one dancing with you." Thats it. I don't get why she loves me, but she does. She chose me. And I couldn't be happier.
       There are a million song lyrics I could quote to finish this. Look After You is first on that list, but Meg's already done that and there's no need to be redundant. Ill just quote Relient K. "I spent my life wondering. Wondering when I'd find you. I searched for all these years and now you're right here. I need you to know that everything makes sense when you're with me."So there you have it. That is but a brief explanation of how I fell in love with a Queen. My Queen. I love her more than anything. And I always will.       

Palilogy! Palilogy! Palilogy!

Every once in a great while, I get this itch. Its usually on my left elbow. Today it is under my pinky toe. And as everyone knows, nothing spells trouble like an itch under a pinky toe. (Except for "Trust Red-Orange Umbrellas Beginning Last Evening." I suppose that spells it better.)

You see, I have the itch to use big words. Words that no one knows. Like "Palilogy" for instance. Which happens to mean "the emphatic repetition of a word." So Im going to choose a cool word. *goes off to search for one* ... *Comes back* I hearby declare that I shall use the word "Sapid" correctly and in normal conversation this very day. It means "pleasantly flavoured."

Wish me luck. Im gonna get some eye-rolls.

A cadaver in the making

Dear People reading this,
Today has been an odd sort of day. I was intending to write about something cheery and happy. Something changed that. And Im not entirely sure what. Well, I suppose I am sure what. I just don't know WHY it changed anything, and I refuse to do anything with that knowledge but bury it deep inside my brain. No one needs to know. Honestly, Im not sure why people are still conversing with me. But if they knew me, and I mean REALLY knew me, they wouldn't. I know that much.
Anyway, now for the point of my post. The feeling in the pit of my stomach is back. And Ill end up doing something stupid and regretable. But I must do it, whatever it is. I need to jump out a plane, or step in front of a car, or just walk to nowhere in particular. Im not sure which I prefer. Probably the nearest one.
So farewell for now. Hopefully tomorrow will be significantly more cheery.

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

I declare this to be Name Something Random Day! So get started. Go name a toothbrush "Phyllis." Or a speck of dust "Tyler." Why, you can even name your great aunt's sofa! Or a piece of paper! Or your Dora The Explorer flashlight.

I, for one, will name my name. I hearby name my name Hiram.

-Hiram The Nate

Alas, the fun has come to an end.

So, my attmept failed. My blog has gone public. At this point Im not sure I care. Im too engrossed in my own thoughts to care. Or even to think of something witty. But Im no average blogger. I won't let this stop me from churning out useless posts even when no one cares. Ill yammer on about the color red. Thats right. Prepare to be...indifferent.

Red. Its a great color. One of the three primary colors. Similar to orange, but without the yellow-y-ness. Its the color of blood. And my cheeks when I realize people have been spying on my while I was singing in my room. ( *Glares at mom* ) Its not my favorite color. Just a good one. I suppose I could delve into the emotions red stirs up in our minds, but...Im too hungry to bother. *goes in search of food*

*sighs*

           Today, something unexpected happened. I spent my entire shift at work planning today's post. And later posts. Everything was going to go smoothly. Then I get home, opened my browser to my blog profile, and nearly died of shock. My blog had been viewed. Twice! I haven't the foggiest clue who it was. And since it was a random search website, its probably no one I know. But, whoever you are, on the off chance that you look again, HI! *waves* now please leave. You're messing up my plan. And if I do know you, then please tell me. I'd like to know how big of a failure I am at being secretive.
           Anyway, on to my originally planned topic. Life. Yes, I know. A big, broad, impossible-to-intelligently-discuss-in-a-miniscule-blog-post kind of topic. Which is why Im doing it. You see, I wrote a song. A little jingle. My thoughts on life, packed into this nifty little song.

                                                            Life and...Stuff
                                                                    If I were forced
                                                                     With a knife
                                                                   Held to my neck
                                                                  To describe life
                                                                In 10 words or less
                                                                 I'd do it in seven
                                                                    Without having
                                                                  Broken a sweat
                                                                      Or a heart
                                                               Fragile as they are
                                                               Its far more simple
                                                           Than we make it to be
                                                                "Life is to infinity
                                                                 and beyond me"
          

Prepare to be enlightened by my superior mind.

       So here we are. Day #2 of not being noticed. Man, its great to be secretive in a place that isn't supposed to be. Sure I could write this in a journal or notebook, but where's the fun in that? It feels like Im breaking some unwritten rule. Creating a private (and thus useless) blog. Its quite fun. In an I-just-double-dipped-my-carrot-stick-in-the-ranch-dressing sort of way.
       Now to the point of today's post. My infinite wisdom...Are you ready? Maybe you should meditate first or something. Do a push-up or two. Anything to prepare you for this momentous occurance. Ill give you a moment to gather yourself.
       Are you ready now? Good...
Wait for iiiiiiiitttttt......











                                                                           H

Shhhhhh

You can never have enough of a good thing. Or is it you can always have too much of a good thing? *shrugs* I can't remember. All I know is that one blog stuffed to the brim with goofy stories straight from the terror-saturated destination that is Myimaginationia, is great, so why not two?
So here they are...My thoughts... *crickets chirp*
Let's start with the obvious. Im writing on a blog that no one will ever see. Most likely. When I started Kemenbarian Tales, the whole purpose was to allow people to read what I write. The purpose of this is to see how long I can hide what I write. Maybe not long since they are both under the same profile and therefore it is exceedingly easy to discover. For the record, it is March 4th, 2011. My money is on Meg finding it first. Im guessing within a month. Who ever does find it, let me know.
So, non-existant readers, you're probably thinking, "What's wrong with this nut-case? Who starts a blog with the purpose of keeping it a secret? And then names it "Sidereally Pensive"? What kind of name is that?" I must admit, those are all valid questions. Ones I've thought of myself. (Obviously.) So I've made this handy little guide to answer all your pressing inquiries Lets start at the beginning.
           Handy Guide To Answer All Your Pressing Questions


Answer To Pressing Question #1: Doctors aren't quite sure. Most are forming their theories at the moment. Its probably some sort of brain defect that originated around Panama and the only known case is me. What makes this extremely odd is that I've never been near Panama. For now they're calling it O.D.D. (It doesn't stand for anything. It just means "odd." Putting the periods there just makes it seem more scientific.) At least until they come up with a catchier name for the books they'll write.


Answer To Pressing Question #2: Me, obviously. For more information, see Answer To Pressing Question #1


Answer To Pressing Question #3: See Answer To Pressing Question #2.


Answer To Pressing Question #4: Here's the thing. I have absolutely zero musical talent. That doesn't stop me from pretending otherwise. I've had "Pensive" (which means "thoughtful") as my band name for the longest time. Recently, I discovered it was already taken. So I searched for an orignal name. I came up with "Sidereal" (which means "In relation to the stars"), but, alas, that was taken as well. So I ended up going with "Eternally Stray." The problem is I still loved those words, so I smushed them together and made it a blog. Voila! Instant awesomeness.