Bricks. And Philip Winchester.

I went through some old blog posts and"cleaned house," so to speak. Which makes this my "real" 200th blog post. This doesn't really mean much to you; just thought you should know. In case you feel like celebrating.

*throws confetti*

I've been thinking a lot lately. Dangerous, I know, but it's like watching YouTube videos. You only mean to watch one, but then that other video that pops up on the Related Videos thread looks good too, so you watch it, but then, oh wait, the next video on the Related Videos thread was supposed to be REALLY funny, and before you know it it's 2AM and your fingers have gone numb from being crouched over the mouse since 10PM. Just. Can't. Stop.

(Guess what I've been doing since the end of the quarter? If you guessed YouTube video-watching, you're wrong. If you guessed YouTube video-MASTERING, you're right.)

Anyway, thinking. I've been thinking about bricks. Yes, bricks. Red bricks, stone bricks, brown bricks, square bricks.

(I'm TIRED. Give me a break. My jokes will suck today. And may involve a lot of parenthetical statements.)

But seriously: I've been thinking about life-bricks. You know, those individual moments in time that build one atop the other to make you into who you are. Those moments that, when you look back, are the moments when everything "began." You may not have realized it at the time, but they become those moments that make you shiver and get all giggly later.

I don't know about you, but the writer in me is CONSTANTLY trying to guess where/when/if I'm having a life-brick moment. I'm going to admit one of my greatest sekrit shames in saying that I frequently step back from myself and imagine what it would be like if a movie opened on *insert random point in my day.* What would happen next? Why would this brick be important? What could happen to make this brick even MORE important?

I love that I do this, even if it usually results in me being disappointed that that random moment didn't become the awesomely epic life-brick I had imagined. But in flicking through hundreds of scenarios each day, searching searching searching for excitement, I'm constantly flicking through stories. And every so often, one makes me stop and go "Woa. That would make a WICKED book."

So even if it's exhausting to incessantly search for life-bricks in my own life (and rarely, if ever, spot them), even if it makes my imagined life seem far more exciting than my real life, good does come from my little sekrit shame. I guess this is just a long-winded and strange way of saying: good can come from even the silliest, stupidest, weirdest things. Don't stop looking for good.

One last YouTube video. I have no idea what Philip Winchester is saying, but he can keep right on saying it as long as he keeps looking at the screen so...intently...

(PS: Did anyone watch the POTC video I linked to? Did anyone else notice the lyrics of that song? Did anyone else squeal as loudly as I did? A SONG about PIRATES and PRINCESSES. And some chick named Courtney. What's she doing in there? Never mind. PIRATES. PRINCESSES. In one song. *love*)