Meditation, Sweet 16, Garage Sales, and Other Things That Do Not Match

     If you ask me, I have the best meditation spot in all of Utah. But, you didn't ask me, so...you can think you're spot is better. That's cool. 

My place of Zen. Not bad for a picture from my phone, eh?

     I went hiking today, if that wasn't already evident. Other than the fact that I forgot to take my joint medicine, it was quite relieving. Despite how much I don't like nature most of the time, it's nice to get out every once in a while. The desire to lay out a mat and do yoga 'till the sun set was so incredibly tempting. Really, that was the most delicious idea I'd had all day.                 

     Today's hike has made me so stoked for my "Sweet 16". If you don't already know my beef with Sweet 16's, I'll give you the basic spiel now. I simply don't understand what is so grand about turning 16. Congratulations, you can drive without your mom. So what?! When I turn 21, THEN we'll party, yeah? Yeah. Okay. Now you understand.

      My plans for my Sweet 16? We'll be starting our hike at 1:00 a.m. to ensure we get to the top by sunrise. Once at the top, yoga and meditation with the sunrise will follow suit. I'm a quirky child, I don't need you to tell me, I already know. I'd love to see someone with a better Sweet 16 than me (feel free to accept that challenge).  I'm so excited, you have no idea. 

      I hit up a garage sale this morning as well. After asking my mom for 50 cents (I'm broke, okay?), I purchased a lovely teddy bear. You're never too old for teddy bears, I don't care what anyone says. I still sleep with one (along with my other odd sleeping attire, but that's for a different post) and you probably do too. Stuffed animals are just things of joy, which is precisely why I plan on sleeping with one for the rest of my life. I want to hit up garage sales every Saturday morning. Who wants to drive me? 

Teddy Bear I purchased for 50 cents. Best deal ever.

      So, children, what have we learned today? Sweet 16's are the dumbest thing on earth (right under Snuggies), my meditation spot is better than yours, garage sales are the best (right above getting good grades), and teddy bears are your best friends (other than me). 

      Also, I really love parentheses (this is just in case you have noticed my latest obsession). 

Whit Happens

Day 2

Day 2: Explain the meaning behind your blog name.

     Surely you've heard the original phrase that created my blog name, yes? If not, too bad, because my mom follows my blog and she'd be really mad if I used profanity. Ju[S]t r[H]yme 'wh[I]t' un[T]il you get it.
     There really isn't much to say about my blog name. Now, in all deserving credit, the brilliance behind the blog name ought to go to my dad. Let's just say his immaturity pays off well. It was creative, catchy, and comical. Is there any other reason to create a blog name? Get real, this is not a competition of sincerity - it's a battle of "whits". Haha, I'm punny. I s'pose my point here is that the reason I started this blog in the first place was to create a way to write in a relaxed fashion. I wanted something that was entertaining to the audience while exploring broad topics. My other blog, however, is a writer's blog without a doubt. I had a limited audience with my other blog because not everyone is a writer, and not everyone cares about the Odyssey, and not everyone shares the same vocabulary as I.
     I guess the name ties into what I'm trying to communicate with everyone. Regardless of how many edits I do per post, or how many people really do like my writing: stuff happens. A teacher, whom I admire very much, once told me that the only person I can control is myself. He said that, despite all my efforts, I will never be able to please everyone. But, here's the crucial part of that, by putting yourself out there, you're doing everything in your power to please someone; and that vulnerabilty is the best and worst part of life. So, Whit Happens? Call this my way of exposing myself. Degrade me, insult me, judge me, criticize me, but, y'know, it happens and I can live with that.

The Old Wicker Tree

Three a.m. poetry...I'm going to bed now. When I wake up I'll call it abstract, as nothing is ever really logical at these wretched hours.

Toss your shoes
Behind the old wicker tree.
Forget your worries,
Leave your anxiety
Tucked beneath your laces.
Sink your toes
Into the soft, cool earth.
Run 'cross the dewed grass and
Release all your troubles.

Don’t look back.
We’ll return soon enough.

Close your eyes,
See the world with your body.
Absorb the sun’s rays and
Flow with the wind
That rustles the leaves.
Let the sun melt your doubts,
The breeze swipe all suspicions.
Submerge yourself
In the gentle current waters and
Drown your uncertainties.

Don’t look back.
We’ll return soon enough.

You tell me that
Soon enough is not fast enough.
Your clothes are sticking,
Shoulders burning,
Eyes drying,
Toes bleeding,
Personality chafing, and
Your shoes could be stolen.

Don’t act so naïve.
We’ll return soon enough.

But soon enough is never
Fast enough for you.
There is no such thing
As spare time.
Silence does not exist, and
How could it?
You have so much to do,
Your mind never rests.
Sleep is optional,
They have pills and beverages now
That force your body to be alert.
Knowledge comes from
Books alone.
Rewards are only received
When you stay in the lines,
Cross no borders,
Do what you’re told,
And work hard – nonstop.
So this is why you must go back.

Don’t grow up so fast.
Play pretend with me once more.
Feed me meals of bark and leaves,
Bring treasures on board our ship of clotheslines and sheets,
Save a damsel in distress, or
Fly to the moon.
Just don’t leave me yet.

But no. . .gather your things from
Behind the old wicker tree.
Your burdens still lie just
Beneath your laces,
Dragging you down with your
Medications,
Cups of coffee, and
Paychecks.
Was it worth it?
Eating without tasting?
Sleeping without dreaming?
Speaking without thinking?
Hearing without listening?
Breathing without living?
My dear, you’re thriving in knowledge,
But knowledge is nothing
Without wisdom.

Don’t grow up so fast.
That, love, will come sooner than you think
And you can’t go back.

Of Late, I...

1. have been paying attention.
2. depend on my fingers.
3. love notebooks
4. hate computers
5. purchased an instant camera
6. kicked a chair when I discovered the camera's battery is dead.
7. cried a little, over nothing in particular.
8. laughed a bit, over everything that doesn't work.
9. turned left at a sign that read, "Right Turn Only".
10. flew an imaginary plane 'cross a library hall.
11. pretended not to care about things that really made me want to fold up like a clam.
12. shushed my dog when he barked.
13. bruised my hip on a doorknob that wasn't there two seconds prior.
14. made a decision.
15. had a horrible nightmare.
16. wrote a poem.
17. played at Velour.
18. have been oddly generous.
19. talked to myself.
20. wished I wasn't so quiet sometimes.
21. held my breath.
22. listened a little better.
23. want an accordian.
24. needed more silence than usual.
25. made excuses.
26. wrapped my pinky in scotch tape.
27. purposely poured water on the floor.
28. spent money I don't have.
29. forgave the undeserving.
30. regret saying that.

Reoccuring Nightmares

On rare occasions, I realize that I’m not perfect.

On rarer occasions, I notice that there are other people around me.

On even rarer occasions, I see that these sociopaths whom I call “peers” are not perfect either, but try to give off that illusion and I am no different from them.

Then I roll over and go back to sleep and my obtuse mind continues to tune out the journey through high school/dystopia/Dante’s Inferno.

Let's Start from the Beginning...ha. No.

Introductions are for people who have nothing better to do with their lives. As for me? I strongly uphold the idea of jumping right into everything, grabbing life by throat and demanding a regurgitation of time. Why do we need background checks when the past is gone? Why do we need to introduce ourselves? I liked things in kindergarten when it was okay to be yourself and people liked you for who you were, not how grand your About Me square is on Facebook. I shouldn't complain, at least now it's a competition of who's the most original. Before it was all about who was the most normal…how bromidic. If you demand an About Me piece, I don’t have much for you: I love music, I love cultural art, and I’ll probably call you dumb if we don’t share the same vocabulary. Despite my intolerance for incompetence, I love you.

I hope you’re satisfied. You’ve managed to squeeze the last bit of normality out of this crooked soul.

If you’ve come across this mild tangent I so pathetically call my life, congratulations. You’ve come as far the common ant crossing a side walk, what seems like such a long trek is merely two feet. Besides the fact that you’re reading this and somewhat feeling insulted by my ostentation, I hope you enjoy the fact that sometimes Whit just Happens.