My Little Strip of Heaven

Just recently, I realized how much I love my driveway. Call me crazy, but I do. Lately I've looked at my driveway and thought about what it means to me, which, surprisingly, is a lot. It means more to me now and I'm probably the only person I know that is attached to my driveway, which makes me awesome. Or insane.

It all started when Courtney came over in her sweeto car. Of course, we car danced to the Ultimate Driving Mix in it. Now, when you think of car dancing, you probably think of people driving and dancing. We only did one of those things since it's illegal to drive with peers for the first 6 months of being licensed. Party in the driveway? I think yes. Weird looks from neighbors? Not much, they've gotten past that point after living near my psycho family for a few years. But you know what? It was honestly a blast, even if we were just chillin' in the driveway. That's when I realized that there have been countless parties in the driveway. Attempting to unicycle and laughing at each other while my middle-aged father showed us all up, innumerable go-kart tests, or just sitting and talking. My driveway's my bud.

I loved it even more when I realized how many journeys started and ended in my driveway. Before, when I would leave for long periods of time, I would sub-consciously say goodbye to my house, not looking forward to a bed not really mine. Now when I leave, I bid the driveway farewell and anticipate the next adventure on my list. The significance of pulling in or out of my driveway is more apparent to me, and it kind of symbolizes change to me. I know, I have way too much time on my hands to be able to be thinking about this stuff. I don't want to hear it. You just wish that you could look at your driveway and see it as an opportunity. An opportunity to leave where you are and take a break, coming back a different person, if only slightly. That strip of cement is point A and point B, the beginning and the end, the past and the future, the start and finish to an immense number of excursions.

There is something that makes my driveway extra special. Lines. Words cannot describe how much I love those gravel strips and how they guide me into the garage. They've totally helped me make curfew a few times already. I love being able to just swing in and know that I'm going to clear the sides because I'm in the lines! Be jealous. My driveway is stellar. Thank you Padre for knowing that you would eventually have 4 teenage drivers.

Sure, my driveway probably means more to me than it should for any sane person. So do grilled cheese sandwiches. Maybe you could join in the craziness. Next time you pull out of your driveway, think about who you are when you leave and who you're going to be when you come back. Try and make it a positive change, focus on making your driveway proud of the ever-so-slightly different you. Even if no one notices that you're changing for the better, you and your driveway will, and that's enough.

I'm Going To Put This Flat Out...

...People who can't take the truth drive me insane. As you may have gathered, this is quite a problem in my life. Every day, it seems that I manage to accidentally make someone angry at me because I didn't beat around the bush. High school, what do you have against me? Why is there so much drama? Then I get home, and I can say whatever I want, be who I've grown up to be. Having been raised with three brothers, the person I am ignores the bush. I plow the bush. Call me the bush plower. At home, my brothers will shrug any statement off and tell me where I screw up.

I like to think that when this happens, I can take what I dish out. I fancy that when someone tells me that I'm horrible at something or that I'm wrong, that I absorb it and move on with life, that the person who told me doesn't walk away just a tad bit peeved off because they're soaked in drama from my outburst. In all honesty, I don't think this happens; I am pretty sure that I get defensive. But hey, at least I realize that, right? Right? At least people don't walk away from me covered in yogurt. What did you say? It sounds like there's a story behind that? Well, only because you brought it up will I tell you.

Today I was at lunch, and someone, we'll call her Jane, said that she had to tell me something. Jane paused, and said that she would tell me later because "Lily" was present, and Lily can't keep a secret. Due to my polite-ness level being zero, I told Jane that she was being a hypocrite. Baffled, Jane asked what I meant. As I am, I told her that she couldn't keep a secret. Small thing, huge reaction. I ended up with yogurt all over my face. And hair. And sweater. Oh Jane, dear dear Jane. Excuse me, but I thought that you were over the age of five. I'm sorry that I was under the incorrect impression. Granted, it's probably my own fault. I didn't frolic around the bush. No, because I, my dear friends, am the bush plower.

Bush Plower. I think I'll make this my Indian name. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not saying that it was socially acceptable to criticize Jane. All I'm saying is that it should be. People should stop being insecure and just try to improve themselves. End of story. Think of how simple life would be if everyone knew everything about everyone. No hiding, no secrets, no lies. I guess that I will soon have to come to the realization that life, sadly, is not this way. It never will be. Life can not change just for me. However, I can change for life.

Will I?

Probably not. Because I am me, and life needs to get over it. Anyone seen that bush I'm supposed to be avoiding?

Garden Gnomes

Some of you may have thought that the (alliteration!) garden gnome on the right side of my blog was cute, may even funny. I'll bet what you least expected is that it was a sign of my seeking for world domination. All I'm saying is that I may or may not be in alliance with garden gnomes world wide, and I've decided to warn my loved ones. Here is your only chance for survival.

The author, Chuck Sambuchino, has been trying to thwart our operation for years. He reveals our plans in the book summary.

Move over zombies and adolescent vampires.

There’s a new threat in town—and it’s only twelve inches tall. How to Survive a Garden Gnome Attack is the only comprehensive survival guide that will help you prevent, prepare for, and ward off an imminent home invasion by the common garden gnome. Once thought of as harmless yard decorations, evidence is mounting that these smiling lawn statues are poised and ready to wreck havoc. The danger is real. And it’s here.
Class 1 gnome-slayer and gnome defense expert Chuck Sambuchino has developed a proven system—Assess, Protect, Defend, Apply—for safeguarding property, possessions, and loved ones. Strategies include step-by-step instructions for gnome-proofing the average dwelling, recognizing and interpreting the signs of a gathering hoard, and—in the event that a secured perimeter isbreached—confronting and combating the attackers at close range.

You've been warned, prepare.

P.S. This post is a joke, I am not teamed up with evil garden gnomes. Please do not send the FBI after me.

P.P.S. I will not comment on my relations with lawn flamingos.