Happy and Blue 2

I alluded to this in my last post What If but I’m going to clarify myself further here.

My name is Glen and I write Happy and Blue 2.
My site is a place where I write pointless stories that occasionally have a point.
The stories are about strange people and animals. And about my pointless adventures.

I don’t want to write about business topics. I don’t want to write about religion. Or politics.

My stories aren’t for everyone.
But they make my family laugh. And a few of my real friends.
And that makes me happy.

When I wrote stories in the past there was a community of writers I connected with.

Those writers are mostly gone now.

When I started blogging again the only writers I could find were business bloggers.

And after writing for a while, and leaving comments on business type sites I found interesting (and still do) I started trying to write in a more business like style to fit in.

But it just isn’t me and it shows. It’s just not well thought out. I have no passion for this style of writing.

I know about business. I understand the principles. I know how it works in public and private enterprises. And how it works on blogs as well.
Business, to me, is how we make our living be it on or off line.

But, I’m not passionate about it.

I am passionate about telling stories.

So, that is what I am going to do.

I’m really lucky when I think about it.
I have virtually no readers. Except Skye. And she’s been reading long before I started this version of Happy and Blue 2.

So, I have nothing to lose.
And everything to gain.
Except wealth and followers I suppose.

Life’s a beach ball some times. You never know when you might get hit in the face by one but if it does hit you in the face you’re glad it wasn’t a rock..
Or some other common trite saying..

So the question for you is:
1) Do you ever think you are on the wrong path in life?

“What if God were one of us. Just a slob like one of us. Just a stranger on a bus trying to make his way home…..” . lyrics from a Joan Osborne song..

I think to myself that I shouldn’t write about religion on my site. So I won’t.

And I think to myself that politics and making money aren’t my thing. So I’m not going to write about those either.

My name is Glen and I write stories.
Pointless stories that may or may not have a point like the one I’m about to tell you..

I worked at a gas station for a while in what I’m guessing most people would consider a bad part of the city I live in.

The area was a major drug area. There were beatings. There were robberies. There were bums. And mostly there were people who just were poor but tried to do right.

Overall, I liked these people. And they seemed to like me.

Like most people they really weren’t all that scary if you treated them with respect and didn’t judge them.

Several times while working there people who had no where else to go would come into the station to use the bathroom, bum a smoke and ask for change..

I tried to help whenever I could with whatever I could offer them..
Life is short for all of us. That’s what I think. That’s how I try to act towards others.
We all need help..

Most of the time the Customers were great. We would laugh, share a joke, tease each other..

But some days it just wasn’t fun being there.
The Customers were rude. Or demanding. And the workload was greater than I could handle and remain cheerful..

On one of these hard days an old man came up to me at the station and asked if we had a bathroom. I pointed him inside and went on with my work.

When he came out he came back over to me and asked if I could spare him a smoke and some change.

I wanted to tell him to get lost. I was tired. I was broken.
But instead I reached in my pockets and handed him what he wanted. And I forced a smile.
Knowing how we talked to people at that job I probably also said something like “Have a good one” Whatever that means. We just said it all the time..
Anyways, I don’t recall what I said.

But I do remember that he just smiled, thanked me and went off down the street.
I never saw him before that day. And I haven’t seen him since.

But, for some reason I remember him.
And I remember the words to the song……

On Saturdays I read a few of the comics in the paper.

One that often amuses me is Shylock Fox.

Shylock Fox isn’t supposed to be funny. It gives a written description of a crime scene involving animals and a picture of the scene and you are supposed to figure out why the bad guy is lying.

For example, Mary Mouse says she couldn’t possibly have stolen Robbie Raccoon’s hat because she was at home all evening due to it raining outside.

Shylock, being the dick (slang for private detective) that he is, doesn’t believe her.

Why not, you ask.

Because her boots in the picture are wet..
Your job in this is to notice the wet boots before you read the upside down answer.

Usually the answer is pretty easy to find.

But sometimes the answers just don’t make sense.

Sometimes the answer, using the above scenario, is something like:

Shylock Fox knows that Mary Mouse is a compulsive liar with a rap sheet for stealing Raccoon hats that is longer than his arm and after 12 hours of intense interrogation Mary confessed to stealing Robbie’s hat.

In cases like this I picture the author, Bob Weber Jr., looked at the scenario and the picture and thought to himself “ What the he**. I can’t think of a single clue that will make sense of this stupid cartoon. I’ll just make up some wild story..”

Often when writing a post for our own blogs we start with an idea and end up at the same point. The “What the he** am I trying to say here.”

And then, because we are trying to finish the post, we try to come up with something, anything that will save it. Whether it makes sense or not.

I suppose that the proper thing to do would just be to delete the post and start again.

But, sometimes I think it’s good to just hit publish.

Everyone needs to chuckle sometimes. Maybe that wild rant or pointless post will make someones day..

So, today’s question to you would be:

Do you ever look back at a post and wonder “What the he** was I thinking when I posted that?”

We all have posts that were favorites.
Things we wrote where the words just flowed.

I was looking through some of my old posts for no apparent reason and came across this post:

Mary and Burt

I liked this post because the question at the end made my son laugh.

You don’t have to read it. It doesn’t really matter to me.

But, maybe it will get you to search your archives for that special post you created.
And I, for one would like to read that post on your site..

So, if you do decide to share one of your special posts please leave a comment letting us know so we can read it..

I handed in my notice for what was my latest job a little over two weeks ago.
Tuesday was my last day on the job.
Wednesday I was out of town.
Today I am back home and unemployed once again.
Free and soon to feel poor..

I enjoy working.
I like getting paid.
I like buying useless things and then eventually, when I come to my senses, giving them away.

But, I like freedom as well.
And work, for all its benefits, is restrictive in being free.
Free to do what I want when I want.
Free to explore things that I have been putting aside until I was free to spend time on them.

The concept of retiring seems odd to me.
Never, ever, working again.
Ever.
It doesn’t seem like freedom to me.
It seems restrictive.
Like a job in many ways.

I like working.
I like learning how things work.
I like spending time with co-workers.
I like encouraging and being encouraged at work.

But, I also like being alone to explore the things I think about.

So, I work for a time.
And I hand in my notice.
And I don’t work for a while.
And I work again.

Life is a vicious circle sometimes..