Confetti

Confetti is sprinkles for life.  When an already amazing moment in time yearns for that little something extra or doesn't know how to end properly there is always confetti.  Little bits of paper dancing downward from the sky, with an infinite amount of color combinations to choose from, reminds all those who see it that something especially fun is happening.  No confetti exists for sad occasions.

We all get to share in the splendor when we see the confetti fall, but very few of us actually get to say the confetti is for them.  That they've earned the confetti.  That they weren't just a convenient bystander when it started raining colors of pure joy.  No, that honor is reserved for champions of sport, music, politics, and love.  Lifting up a trophy, finishing a power ballad, winning an election, and marrying the person of your dreams just means more when the sky celebrates with you.  So for most of us we better get that love thing right if we really want to know what it feels like to deserve the confetti.
 

...either that or start bringing confetti to the office.  I hear Gary beat his personal best in sales this quarter.

Dance Like Somone Is Watching

Dancing is the most fluid art there is.  Every move you made, are making, and will make complement each other to form a beautiful timeline of grace, elegance, energy, and attitude.  It springs to life out of nowhere and ends just as suddenly.  Sometimes before its time....and in other times not soon enough.

Dancing is hard.

Its one of the few human skills that bring about praise or judgment from total strangers.  And people love to judge people dancing.  The incredibly popular family of dancing competition television shows is just a small example of that.  Most of the judging doesn't take place on TV.  It takes place in dance clubs, small bars, or wedding receptions.  And unlike in sports, the audience of strangers won't clap if you do good, or jeer if you do bad.  They just stare and smile, because it doesn't matter if you're good or bad; its entertainment to them.

Most know the judgments exist, but they either have enough self confidence or liquid courage not to care and race to the dance floor to have fun.  Those who stay behind because of the fear of being judged then seamlessly turn into the judgees.

The Prowler

The hours almost up and I'm exhausted. My legs just barely support my own body weight and one more push up would be one too many. Cue Dan the trainer.  "You guys need to be able to pay attention the rest of the day?"

Created by Satan's personal blacksmith The Prowler looks like a mix between a football blocking sled and a BDSM contraption.  It comes with the following instructions:

1. Push it one way with your lower body 
2. Push it back again with your upper body.
3. Repeat
4. Repeat
5. ...please make it stop...
6. Repeat

My will power is in direct relation to who is around me and I'm ok with that.  Mainly because people watching me always brings out my best and leads to situations where I exceed my own preconceived notions of what I can do.  Its my favorite internal high.

Alone in a gym.  There is no way I finish the Prowler.  My pace slowed to a crawl, my knees buckled and fell to the ground multiple times during the last leg. My body quit. But my desire to not disappoint didn't.  I finished.

The next 5 minutes were spent trying to find the best position I could so my body wouldn't implode on itself. Lying down, standing up, sitting.  Like an insomniac trying to fall asleep no position worked. I vomited shortly after. I loved and hated every agonizing second of it.

I dread ever taking on the Prowler again but I know our next meeting will be here soon.  I can't wait to prove myself wrong again.

Depends On the Spot

"It's close.  It's really close.  It all depends on the spot."

A phrase so obvious and simple its strikes a pained emotion into every football fan.  Either Team A reached their goal of a first down and thus receives permission to continue their quest for glory or they must admit defeat and grant Team B the same opportunity they just failed.

"It all depends on the spot."

6,000 pounds of human beings on a field trying to force a one pound, oddly shaped, inflated piece of leather in the direction of their choice.  They have four chances to go 10 yards.  Their livelihoods depend on it.  Their future depends on it.  In this case they've only made it 9 yards....or is that 10?

"It all depends on the spot."

Sounds of collisions fill the stadium.  One of the fastest men on earth is forced to the ground.  He stretches for every inch.  The play ends. 50 feet away the smallest man on the field watches.  He dresses like he wants to stand out by stealing the markings of a zebra,an animal who wants to do anything but standout.  He slowly runs, not jogs, out on to the field with his arm raised; Summoning the attention of millions.  When he reaches his destination he stands stoically with his arm in the air. Right or wrong he believes in what he's seen and where he currently stands.  He's spotted the ball.  He has the authority to do so.

"It all depends on the spot."

STOP BEING SO DRAMATIC!! We KNOW!  We know it all depends on the spot!  Thank you for telling us what we already know. No one is watching this game and doesn't know the rules of football.  If you have the gene that causes you to have an interest in football you were also born to instinctually know the rules.  Its a scientific fact.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Its just that its really important that I know where my team stands right now. Were my team's past decisions correct?  What will our next play be?  Will I be happy or sad with the outcome? Is this post just some long drawn out analogy towards life that justifies the name of the blog?  What will I write about next?

......depends on the spot.