For This Post I Deserve to Wear a Crown of Bees

As a rule, I try to make sure all posts on my blog have a theme and a point; otherwise I spiral into self-hate, plant my face in a pillow and scream, "WHY could I not conjure up just ONE THING important enough to blog about? WHY???" According to my archives, I have most recently written 11 consecutive posts-with-points, but all winning streaks must be broken. (For example, today I broke my streak of Days Spent in Langour by walking eight blocks to the chocolate shop, where I relaxed and ate.) This post, therefore, is the Weakest Link in that it has virtually no premise. It is simply a list of things that I have attempted to unite over a common denominator: Things That Don't Make Sense.

Things That Don't Make Sense

1. The man in the photo shown above. You might not be able to see this because the picture's small, but this man is covered in bees. Bee man, why have you done this? Is it the appeal of having a thousand living creatures crawl around on your skin, or knowing that your beefro makes you look like a Haystack Cookie? Or is it the thrill of knowing that with one false move, all those bees could sting you, drop dead, fall to the ground, and leave you looking like a ripe tomato? (Although you could truthfully claim to have massacred a thousand bees in a single blow, which is admittedly badass.)

2. Magical Mystery Tour. And no, I'm not talking about the album, because as trippin' as those songs are they do make a fair amount of sense. I'm talking about the MOVIE. For all of you who have seen Yellow Submarine, Help!, or A Hard Day's Night, I can assure you that all three of those Beatles movies are more coherent than Magical Mystery Tour. To be fair, I stopped watching after about 20 minutes of it. But honestly, what I saw went like this: Ringo and a fat lady get onto a tour bus, Paul dances around on top of a mountain and takes close-up shots of his own eyes, a competition occurs and somehow ends in a car chase, and Paul transforms into an army recruit who spends five minutes kicking a cow. Seriously, the video I made in 6th grade claiming that humans are descended from fish (which is going straight up on this blog if I ever find it) made oodles more sense than Magical Mystery Tour.

3. My Blogspot name, Ahaneen. I know that since most of my blog readers have fairly random usernames and blog names, a disturbing three of which contain the word "nibs," there's little need to explain myself, but I will. Back in 6th grade, I started writing a fantasy series that ended up consuming my brain for two years. Then I got a blog. Ahaneen was my favorite character in the fantasy series, although I never got around to writing anything with her in it. I don't know where her name came from. I have an uneasy feeling that I invented my own elder language.

4. Almost all of my earlier blog posts. I mean, technically they make sense, but I'm still left wondering why I ever decided to write about some of the things that I did. In conclusion, don't read the early posts. Stick to the newer ones, because I'm cooler now and no longer harbor the delusion that if an anonymous commenter says "Cool blog you've got there! Come check out my blog about miniature pocketbikes," I should go to his advertisement-saturated blog straight away and reply to his comment to let him know I care.

5. Everything that comes out of a toddler's mouth. Today at the chocolate shop, I was sitting writing and a woman with two toddler-age boys came in. As the two boys munched and crunched at their chocolate pretzels, they uttered a variety of profundities, my favorite of which was "Welcome to bear country!!" which they repeated for a straight minute. After they had finished eating, one of them threw a straw across the room, and his mother told him to pick it up. The boy sulked, declaring, "Now you don't get a hug or a kiss! You only get a hit!!" Then he hit his mother.

In conclusion...well, as I said before, there's really no conclusion to this post. Perhaps there's a hidden meaning behind these five nonsensical things: maybe Ahaneen is alive and well, making a living by selling miniature pocketbikes and living in a bee-infested Bear Country, which is a place only accessible by the Magical Mystery Tour Bus. Hell, that would fit right into the movie, and could potentially add a good deal of depth to the car chase.

My Oogedy Boogedy Brain

So I was reading the last post on dear old Tsubaki's blog, and in addition to making me hungry for Indian food, it touched a nerve--a little boil, if you will, that has begun to fester at one of the back corners of my mind. Within this boil is the increasingly troubling realization that I constantly label myself as...

...nothing.

I have no definite religion, no one culture whose traditions and idiosyncrasies (delightful or otherwise) I embrace, no political view that I subscribe to. My sexual orientation is by no means clear, and I'm having growing doubts about my career ambitions, which mere weeks ago were the strongest convictions I had. On a smaller scale, my eyes are bluegreengrey, my favorite color is purplecrimsonaquamarine, and I've recently been finding myself listening to (and ENJOYING) a ton of embarrassing pop songs--I, who like to project myself as a lover of hippie music.

Good God, I am indecisive. I am utterly incapable of identifying myself as anything, of taking a side. Do I admire this part of myself? I can't decide. (Typical.) On one hand, there's the obvious benefit of being open-minded, which is incredibly liberating. But on the other hand, all that freedom can't compare to the completeness of belonging to something, which--and no one can deny this--feels great.

I guess I've had this predicament coming to me ever since I abandoned my first major convictions--which means that the little mental boil has actually been festering for years. (Pretty picture, ain't it?) The saddest part about it is that, since I am basically a question mark on two legs, I gain my stability from daydreams, crushes (which are rare these days), and daily routines. Which is a pretty strong indicator that my stability sucks beans.

As I said, being a free floater has its perks. But, honest to God, it's working my last nerve right now. Crazy as it sounds, I want a little bias, a little conviction, a little leap of faith--even though it'll take a lot of work, since my aversion to leaps of faith is almost as great as my aversion to cream cheese. Just anything, ANYTHING except a little goddamned boil.