Busy Bees

So I ran across a funny conclusion while I was in California over spring break. Well, actually my friend brought this little idea afire in my ever twirling mind. And that is, the idea of being busy. What is it to be busy? I think all of us definitely have our own definitions of what it means to be running around like busy bees, but how many of us are truly working to make the honey? Because after thinking back on my typical daily routine I must say, although I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, I'm not quite as busy as I thought. Some days yes, I dive head first into those honeycombs and make the best of that sweet nectar. Then there are days when I think I have a whole pot of honey to produce when really if I just sat down and did my thing, it would take a lot less time than I expected and that big pot turns out to be rather small.
The problem is we make those "things to do" turn into enormous tasks instead of just looking at them as they are and so we end up wasting our energy just flapping our wings. We flap frantically telling everyone around us how busy we are, but the honey is just barely dripping out. Sure I procrastinate and so at times I find myself flapping wildly with ten different tasks laying out in front of me. There I continue flapping, staring blankly at all the tasks and not tackling a single one because I'm so "busy". But the problem is I make myself busy. If we would just stop flapping our wings and settle down and do what we know we need to, we wouldn't be so busy. And the honey would be a lot more rewarding.
The solution. Procrastinate? Sure. If you have to do it, then do it. But stop flapping your wings. When you really have something to accomplish, tell yourself to just do it. Because flapping around solutions just makes you busy right? We don't want to be so busy that we can't enjoy life. Lets stop and smell the flowers when we can, but otherwise lets do our thing and sing proudly our theme song. You know that one by Black Eyed Peas "Imma Bee, Imma Bee, Imma, Imma, Imma Bee.

Airplanes are crazy dude

Isn’t flying a crazy thing? As I’m sitting in the airplane over spring break looking down at the tiny little ant like figures slowly creeping their way across the earth I started thinking how ridiculous it is that we can fly from one place to another. Like we actually are just up there floating in the air, crammed in our seats with absolutely no control. There we sit, surrounded by complete strangers traveling at speeds that would probably pull our eyelids off our faces. How strange it is to fly. To sit by a person you have never met, and pretend to be interested in where they are going and what they are doing, as they try just as hard to listen to you as you tell them the same.
How strange it is that we are crammed in a tiny living space for two hours and that we so delicately eat our little bag of peanuts and drink our coke like we have manners or something. When really, everyone on the plane is secretly demanding another bag because those peanuts are just a tease to the ol’ tummy. Oh and you can tell too. Watch your neighbor next time as the flight attendant walks by and asks if they need anything else. They hesitate for just a moment because what they would really like to say is, “I only had ten peanuts in my bag. This was a pathetic attempt at a snack and my belly is screaming for more food. I know you people have better food back there, will you bring some out please? And by the way, you have filled my cup so full of ice there was probably only a tablespoon of coke in here, so can I get a refill?” At least that is what you are thinking, so your neighbor has to be on the same thought process as you. And the flight attendants, do they really enjoy handing out peanuts and coke to people? Can that really be all that fun?
Well, after the peanuts you doze off in the most comfortable way possible, which happens to be leaning your head to the right and using your shoulder as a pillow. Oh the comfort of shoulder pillows. Your butt then starts to tingle off to sleep as well as your eyelids get heavier and heavier. Finally you are napping, next to the stranger you just met, so they are technically no longer a stranger. Then you wake up to your own twitch ten minutes later. In embarrassment you pretend it was the turbulence that woke you up so you start looking out the window only then to find that you had slobbered on your shoulder pillow. Now you’ve realized you were just sleeping with your mouth wide open in front of complete strangers. First impressions are great. Yes flying is a crazy thing. At least when you fly Southwest your bags are free. Happy flying people.

Word Lock

Digits Defined (Column 1)

Each morning I wake up to the sound of a quite bothersome ringtone and as I roll over to press the snooze I glance at the time like I somehow did not expect it to nudge me out of bed just yet. But because of the numbers staring back at me I have to get up and begin my day. Those very numbers determine where I will be and what I will be doing. And as I hit the snooze for the third time I suddenly begin to question numbers and their meaning of existence in my life.
I did some research and found that numbers were first invented around 3000 B.C. So they have been around for quite sometime now. But back then numbers were just a simple guideline to help us through our day. But being the all-powerful humans we are we have made numbers to be a lot bigger than what they have to be. First of all we have turned time into an object. An object that is chained to the movements of society. Because of the number on our clocks we must be at a certain place at a certain time. In time’s case numbers have caused us to hurry our way through life. What is the hurry, when life is short enough as it is?
In our attempts to control numbers we have actually made them the enemy. We have made them the enemy as we step on scales all around the world just hoping the number staring back at us is smaller than our last go at the awful weighing machine. So we have anorexic and bulimic people walking this earth thinking they are not good enough. We have made numbers the enemy as we reach into our pockets only to find that the things we want in life we cannot have because we cannot possess enough money to buy them. We have made them the enemy as students all across the world begin to hate any number in the seventies and their hearts ache if ever they see numbers below those dreaded digits. Because to see a number that low one feels they are tabbed as a failure. A single number can make a person feel like a failure. See what we have done?
Yes I do fall into these categories at times but I try hard not to. I think it is important to have a plan in life but if that plan revolves solely around my clock I would not be as happy. I do not want ticking digits having that much control over me. I also think it is important to stay active and I am concerned about my body, but I will not get caught up stepping on scales or denying myself the pleasure of food because of the number my body carries around each day. That is just me, and that is who I am. I have seen my share of numbers in the seventies since I have been in college and at times even lower. At first I was horrified at the sight of them. Now, I realize they are just numbers. If I can walk away from a class and say I truly enjoyed it then the number that goes with does not matter to me. Most students will remember a small amount from what they learn in college anyway.
In the end numbers are just numbers. Simple guidelines not rules that cannot be broken. Do not let numbers define the person you are. Do not let numbers make your life go any quicker. Let the time tick away and the money roll in but in the end those numbers do not portray you as a person. The person you are is defined on how you handle the numbers that life has given you.

Whats Your Number?

To live: to have life, as an organism; be alive; be capable of vital functions; to continue in existence. This is Webster's definition of what it means to live. But what is our definition of living? What makes us get out of bed every day? Numbers. Yes, numbers are in control of you and I every day. The clock on your wall determines where you will be. The number of paper rectangles and silver coins in your pocket determine what you will eat for dinner and what sort of things you can buy. And go figure a GPA is a big fat number as well. We pull out our phones every day and scroll through our numbers and text numerous people a number of times. When we turn sixteen we buy a car and as we press the pedal down we look at the number on our speedometer with a grin as if it it somehow gives us a power we've been missing out on. When we turn twenty one we find out the number of shots our bellies can handle before we find ourselves hanging over a toilet somewhere. Numbers after thirty are always wished to be smaller and especially if you haven't found your number one. Yes numbers control how we live our lives.
This sounds to me like we live like puppets on strings. Who says it has to be this way? Why should a number on your test determine the person you are. So what you received an 8 out 15 on your last blog. Why should the number in your bank account determine where you go in life? You can do whatever you wish. Why should the number on your clock determine where you should be? Clocks do not come with chains and leashes. You see the problem is we have built these ideas about numbers that people go along with without every questioning.
I happen to be a reader. I love to read and one book that I just can't get tired of is that big fat book called the bible. In all the stories I've read in this book I've never read anything about how having a good GPA will get you far in life. Or how you are better off in life if you possess more bills in your pocket than your neighbor. Now it would be hypocritical of me to say that I don't worry about these things and that I live strictly by what I read. But after our speaker today in class, it just got me thinking why do we get so worked up over the numbers in our life when only one number should matter? The number one. Ya, because there is only one guy that is responsible for our existence in the first place.
Numbers. There is nothing about a number in the definition of life. Let us experience life as life was meant to be. Let us live by happiness. Let us not just exist as a number in this world.

You Blockhead

Block. Now there are several meanings to the word block. Thinking as a child would we can look at a block as those little square objects with the ABC's and 123's printed on the sides. Oh weren't those the days when you were entertained by little blocks that you could stack up into a tall glorious tower. And just when you put the finishing block on top, here comes little brother to wreck your beloved masterpiece.
Now we also have a block when we look at the sports world too. Volleyball players spend many hours just perfecting the word block. There is a special way to do it I suppose. And in basketball one of the greatest feelings in the world is to block someone else's shot just as it leaves their hand. Afterwards you so subtly stare that person down giving them the "Ya, that just happened" look. And of course there are blocks in football, soccer, and hockey as well.
But enough in the sports world, we also have sunblock. Yes, this special block is to protect your skin from the UV rays and all that nasty sun cancer business. Although most people my age will say they don't really block any of the sort as they sit in tanning beds thinking oh it won't happen to me. Yes, I'm guilty of not applying this block in my life too.
More blocks, yes there are more. Well it just so happens that I live on a block as well. Wow can you believe it? All these little squares that make up a city are called blocks too. And we use phrases such as "Oh it's just down the block", or "She's been around the block" like common sayings.
All these blocks however are not the kind of blocks I'm thinking of. The kind of block I'm thinking of is writer's block. You see, I cannot for the life of me think of anything to write about. I'm suffering writer's block at its worst. It's awful, it really is. I love to write and I can't even think of a topic to get artistic with. Oh well I guess. Maybe tomorrow I will think of something to write about. But until then maybe I'll go to Blockbuster and rent a movie to get my mind flowing with some creative juices.

Cutting Saturday Mail

How would you feel if I told you that Saturdays are no longer days to send or recieve mail? Angered and annoyed are a couple words that come to mind maybe. Well it turns out that post offices around America want to cut Saturday mail to try and help us get out of debt as a nation. Well thanks post office people for your generosity but why do you feel that its your responsibility to get us out of debt? I mean come on think of the head aches you would cause people if we couldn't have our Saturday mail. What about the people that work all week? Maybe Saturday is mail day. It should not be on the US postal service to try and make cuts to get back the money we lost. They had nothing to do with why we are so far in debt in the first place. If we are making cuts like this what else will we start cutting to save money?
It all seems rather silly when we have famous people running around getting paid for looking good while we are making cuts on how many days we can recieve mail out of the week. Or maybe the postmen and women out there have finally had it. They are tired of working six days a week. They need a weekend too, where they can kick back and enjoy a beer like everyone else in the world. Either way this idea is pretty awful. Because in the end it just means we can't procrastinate as long when it is time to pay our bills that are due for the month.