During staff training, we do not get two hours off a day. We get really unexpected times off. Sometimes we’ll get done with an event early. Sometimes there’s nothing planned for a time, even though the schedule says there is something planned. Long story short: there’s no continuity or pattern to this week and a half.

Thus, no writing for a week, then two posts in one day. Staff training happens like that.

During the summer (read: starting Monday night), I will have time to post daily. Hopefully I’ll have time to post tomorrow, because I have some thoughts on a thing to tell you about. No really, I do. Imagine that.

great mental image of the day: Sgt. Pepper’s-era Beatles on Surfboards. yes.

Case in point: On Monday, my small group decided to go to out to a small (but awesome) restaurant in the bustling Metropolis of Siloam Springs, Arakansas, for lunch. We got there, much to our disappointment, to find it closed. We then realized that it was Memorial Day. None of us, including the three resident staff (read: adults) knew it was Memorial day.

We seriously live in a bubble.

Then, in one of the worst endings of all time (the Hindenburg comes to mind, for comparison), George Lucas exerts his Executive Producer might.

“I’m George Lucas, Suckaaaaaaaaaaas! I do whats I want!” he declared (in an incredibly African-Americanized manner). Then he proceeded to drive the film into the ground. It only took six minutes and one CGI sequence, but seriously. Your soul will feel violated that you just watched such an incredible movie, only to see it dashed hopelessly on the rocks. Kinda like if Odysseus made it past the sirens, Scylla and Charbydis, and everything else, then hit some rocks off the coast of his hometown and his ship sank and his entire crew died. He still swims home, but geez. What a crappy ending.

I have a feeling this weekend is going to be off the chartzorz for Indy 4. Next weekend there we be like 3 dollars taken in. It’s just not a film I’m going to go see again. If the ending were different, I’d see it like eight times. But you seriously feel cheated.

funny mental image I’m left with: George Lucas with a fro in Harlem.

If the internet were punchable, it would have a black eye by now. Also, it would be crouched in the fetal position. Pwned.

As it stands, though, I got pwned by the internet. Sad day.

But the reason I love Guestroom is not the reasonable pricing or the incredible selection. It’s the fact that one of the co-owners (who was clerking at the time) had conversation with me about two of the three albums in the minute while I was checking out.

It made me feel great. I’m not alone in my obsessive love of music! Woo!

And they taste good.

In my imagination, he would swoop down in a bright red spandex suit with a big, black “17%” slapped on his chest. He’d yell, “I want to get rid of this tax code that oppresses people!!” Then he’d whip out his Tax Sword (with which he makes tax cuts) and slice the forms I’m filling out in half. Then he would pat me on the head goodnaturedly, sheath his sword, and fly off into the sky, bound to save another helpless citizen from tax paperwork.

“That’s my president,” I would sigh dreamily.

Regardless of how you feel about a flat tax, the thing seems pretty enticing when I’m filling out (and, even more impossible, trying to understand) myriads of paperwork.

Stories also appeal to me because it makes me feel like my life has the capability of being an adventure, just like the books I read. They make me reflect on the type of person (the type of character?) people see me as.

In stories, the lead character being remembered as a noble person who should have had a happy ending actually creates more feeling in me than a happy ending. I would love to have a happy ending. In real life, a happy ending is definitely preferable to a tragic one. But even if my life goes down in flames, it is just as satisfying to have many people say that, “You deserve better, based on all the good you have accomplished for me and everyone else you know.”

I know that God doesn’t work on the rewards system. I know that we don’t necessarily earn the things that happen to us, good or ill. But, for better of for worse, real people do work on the “What have you done for me lately?” system. Having people think well of me in that way is an admirable thing, in my book. I don’t do life for the approval of men, but it is undeniably a wonderful feeling when someone expresses those sentiments towards me.

Sometimes I wish my life were more like a book, with a set antagonist whose defeat ensured me a happy ending. Sometimes I feel that my life is more like a tragic story than any I’ve read recently. Those comparisons fuel the feeling that my life is a grand and exciting story. The hopes and dreams I have are excited by the stories I read/watch and embodied in the fiction I write. I like stories because I am one.