Valuable time

I wasn’t done talking, and I only just now realized it. A formal apology issued to my former post. To those of you who might also read this, consider it a mass blob.

You wanna know what? The more you enjoy living, the more precious your time becomes. The more time your more willing to surrender sitting on the couch, and petting your dogs.  What do I have to do that is more precious than spending time with my dogs? Lord knows they’re going to be lucky to make it to 12 anyways. Even if we convert it to dog years, its still freaking short.

In the Midwest, I’ve heard people have the least polarized and picky of American accents. Sometimes, I wonder if having a relatable way of speaking makes people want to be our friends more. Maybe it’s not the East coast, or the Patchouli people on the West coast. Maybe its just how we speak.

If we have a more moderate speaking style, then what would happen if we also have a greater vocabulary.  I’m not saying this holds true for rural Kansas, but everyone just needs to come an live in Lawrence,  and you’ll see what I’m talking about.  The center of Google maps is here. Case closed.

But seriously, an eerie number of wildly successful people at one point lived in my hometown. Not sure why. I think the government should come in and make the world more like us. Everyone is really weird, but mostly peaceful. In order to keep all sections of your brain right now given the politics, I think you’d have to be.

But so be it. Is anyone actually proud of where they are from? If not, maybe come to Lawrence? Checkers grocery store just put all the organic food and healthy snack chips in the front, along with a massive bulk foods wall eith sour gummy worm scooper bins on one end, and healthy strawberry granola bins on the other. Why anyone still shops at Hyvee is beside me.

We pet sat this week. By we, I mean my mom pet sat, and she took me along to play with this little cat named Peanut. Peanut was probably right around 8 lbs, a tiny cat. She looked black with peanut butter colored splotches in her fur.  I sang her a song when she nuzzled all up and down my leg and the carpet. She has this demonic meow, but fierce upper body strength. She was using her arms to forcibly drag herself/cuddle against the carpet, in circles. She rubbed her face on just about everything. C’mere, my lil Peanueeert! Peaaahnert pernuuurt Peaaahhhhneeeeert! I wrote you a song, dear Peanut.  I sang it like I just opened a magical singing voice from a can, but one that I had shoplifted.

If I have an apartment eventually,  I want a tiny lil cat like Peanut.  She would just hang out, and sleep on my bed. Did I mention that Peanut is an indoor cat? Perfect little contented captive. Sometimes you feel like that when it’s cold outside and you hit the layering jackpot.  I wonder if people spend as much time debating whether to roll up their windows outside of Kansas, when there might be bad weather.  We have almanacs for a reason,  people. Don’t ask me why,  but I get the feeling it has to do with the weather. The sweet spot is between two and three inches on either side. Not enough to sneak in a hand, but enough to not roast to death, in a couple months, once you’ve forgotten to switch habits. The 105 degree summers will catch up with your slow brained sleepyness. On the otherhand, if its still cool outside, just roll up the windows so you don’t get your car wet on the inside.

I wonder how many people would be too much to invite to my 21st birthday. I just want to eat trilayer jello and whipped cream from a can. Anything else except for binge drinking apart from that is generally up for grabs. My preferences haven’t changed since 16, but isn’t that the rub. Nah dude, I still just want the jello. It’s me paying for it, so how much jello can I justify? The sky is thr limit, as in, up to three times what I can reasonably eat in one sitting! Who should I invite? I just need a boombox and my loveable losers, and we can call it a picnic outside.

One day when I don’t have to pay for it, I’m going to go to an amusement park with lots of rollercoasters, and laugh when they flip us all upside down, and laugh when they go backwards, and generally just laugh a lot. Tis the thing for rollercoasters. I can probably wait a year or two before I must absolutely make good on that dream. I wonder if I can convince someone to help me get a free ticket. (:

Cake is not the best for birthdays,  unless it is carrot cake with raisins and homemade cream cheese icing. Either that, or tiramisu. Either that, or cheesecake. Either that,  or jello.

I think we’re missing the point,  you guys.  Birthdays aren’t about cake. They’re about getting progressively older and having more money more problems. And more cake. And maybe someday, a diploma.

But yeah, who needs to graduate? The YOLO method isn’t for this season of life. I want my piece of paper.

Who is going to make sure my dogs last until 12 if I dont get my piece of paper? My mom will, but what if Ted would have cancer? Vet bills are the real deal. What about car insurance? I pay for that, but just imagine: piles of bills with your name on them, as far as the eye can see. I’m going to soak up these last moments of being free to be lazy while they casually last. Fraid the prognosis isn’t all that great.

Just think: I’ll be able to drink beer in public. Whatever. On a spring day where it’s already nice, I would definitely like to be able to sit in the partial shade and drink a mojito. Did you know that if you burn cedar chips in campfires, you can keep away mosquitoes? I think it’s time to go to bed.

Salutations and goodnight, it’s been a decent sized ramble. To think that some people use keyboards to inscribe their weeeeird thoughts, instead of mind control. Cue impromptu but elegant magic trick riiiiiiigghtt NOW!

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Published by

haleylol

I am a teacher-to-be who loves people. I am not afraid of many things. I like to explain my thoughts logically on a very birds-eye view level--I was born thinking that way. I follow Jesus Christ, and I accept only that label to describe my identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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