"I Missed It By A Few Days" Blog: Jason and Arsenio

I really missed the boat on this one.  Would have been perfect to actually blog this on the Friday the 13th we had a few weeks ago.  But alas, I missed it by a few days. 

Still pretty classic, though.  I remember watching this when it aired (at least my memory tells me that I did), and it still makes me laugh. 

Tidbits From the Land of The Mouse

As has been well-documented, one of the things I enjoy most at the Disneyland Resort is the hunt for Hidden Mickeys.  Truth be told though, as much as I may write about it, it really does make up a very small portion of what I enjoy at the Park.  Truth even more be told (so wrong!), I kind of don't even think about it anymore.  I've sort of trained myself just to be looking.  Typically when I go I will have a short list in mind of ones I have already seen that I need to photo (if I pass them) or a new one I've heard about online or something, but I'm usually too busy standing in lines or eating (or walking!) to really think about it much.

I know, and accept, that a lot of people just don't get the whole thing.  Seems silly or superfluous or whatever.  And that's fine.  But it's my blog, and I'll write about whatever the heck I want.

But for those who might actually care, there are two main reasons I hunt for them:

1. It's just something fun to do.  It's something fun to do while you're just wandering around.  Much better in my opinion than watching other dads yelling at their kids, or listening to kids yelling, or listening to whoever yelling.  There's a lot of yelling at Disneyland, don't ya know?
2. The competitor in me wants, in the face of all odds stacked against me, to be the first to spot any given Mickey in the Park. 

Now, the truth is, I suppose it would be really hard to judge who was the first to find a Mickey.  I accept that someone, at the very least the Imagineers who placed it there to begin (you geniuses, you!), has probably seen it before.

But I can do the next best thing, and that's check it against the Yellow Book (Steven M. Barrett's guide), or the Hidden Mickey's Guide website, or my personal favorite, FindingMickey.com by Rosemary & Neil Garcia.  I figure if I check it against these two (who seem to know the most) and they don't have it, I may at least get in prime position of being credited as the person who found it.

Hopefully you'll see where this is going.  On a trip recently I spotted a Mickey somewhere in Disneyland that I can't find listed anywhere in any book or any website.  I have submitted it to both websites, and I have in fact heard back from both of them.  I got an email from Steven Barrett last week that said he would personally check into it next time he was at Disneyland (not sure when that will be), and I heard back from Rosemary & Neil today (they live very near Disneyland) saying they had been to the park yesterday to check it out, confirmed it, took a picture, and are going to put it on their website and credit me with the find.

I won't give too much away yet about where it is and all, but you can bank that when it does go up and gets posted, I'll put it here post-haste.

The competitor in me is pretty happy this morning.  Ah, the little things.

It Won't Be Long Now ... Roll Tide.

Are you ready, Crimson Nation?

Around The Blogs: More Than I Should Bear

One of the things that I love most about my wife is her ability to teach.  She's an amazing teacher.  And she's not only an amazing teacher while she's in the classroom (she teaches AP English) but she's an amazing teacher while she's in the home. 

I love writing, but it's only with her help that I'm able to write, and blog, as frequently as I do.  If it were left up to me I wouldn't.  I'm too self-conscious about myself and my abilities (despite having been told the opposite on many occasions) to put myself out there.  For me, the proof would be in the pudding.  I'd have to have a bazillion hits and a quadrillion followers to consider myself a success.  And I so don't. 

But she taught me a lesson a long time ago, and that is this:  You don't write for others, you write for yourself.  Like any other art, writing is a form of self-expression.  It shouldn't be done from any ulterior motives or out of any sense of pride or arrogance, but simply because you want to.  Your willingness to put yourself out there, and put your feelings out there is an important human interaction.  You bare your soul (sometimes serious, sometimes not), but you do it for yourself.  And as long as you are happy with that, well then that's just okay.  Should anyone care to accompany you, well then that's just okay, too.

I wish I could say the following was just a simple case of nepotism, but it's not.  My wife is an amazing writer.  Brilliant, in point of fact.  And it's due to her beginning to blog that mine even exists now. 

Y'all check her out. 

More Than I Should Bear

Take Me To My Happy Place!

It's just been one of those weekends.  I don't like death.  Don't do very well with it.  But there have been two to deal with to some extent this weekend (one for me, and one for my wife).  As such, the quest to find something to bring me back to a place of contentment has been priority #1 this afternoon (even as my wife is still away at one funeral). 

I was strolling through some old pictures this afternoon when I came across the one you see above you right now.  It's one of my favorite pictures of all time.  I'm not very photogenic.  I accept that.  In fact, I typically hate taking pictures period.  But something about this one (excluding the subject matter) has always made it a favorite of mine.  At any rate, it was taken on December 19, 2008 on my tenth wedding anniversary while my wife and I were celebrating at The Mirage in Las Vegas.  Kind of apropos, no?

At the time this picture was taken, I had just been really introduced to the Beatles' music the summer before.  Now, I do pride myself on being educated to a large degree (no pun intended), and I like to think myself pretty well-rounded at any rate.  So of course I knew who the Beatles were, and I already had a pretty healthy respect for their place in musical history without really knowing much of what they did (I've since come to find out that I knew a lot more of their music than I thought I did).  But a friend had introduced me to their 'Love' CD during that summer (basically the soundtrack for the entire show), and since it was our 10th anniversary and we did want to do Vegas fancy, I figured that taking my wife to see a show (a Cirque show, no less!) called 'Love' was probably just the way to go. 

Sparing all the boring and often gory details, suffice to say that the Beatles have since become my favorite band.  I listen to them.  A lot.  When the remastered boxed set came out in conjunction with The Beatles: Rock Band on 9*9*09, well, you get the idea.

I've indulged myself in my fair share of conversations about the Beatles over the past couple of years, and I've found that people are pretty much divided equally over three spheres:  the Beatles are overrated, ambivalence, and the Beatles are the greatest band ever.  There really doesn't seem to be much gray area at all.  But that ain't what this is about.

Rather, it's about just being happy.  The truth is, I could probably come up with about a thousand reasons (okay, exaggeration I admit) why I like the Beatles.  Why I think they're great.  Blah Blah Blah.  But all of those reasons aren't why I like them.  I'm a firm believer that sometimes humans just need something to make them smile; something to make them happy.  Something to click for them.  The Beatles do that for me.  It really is that simplistic.

When I'm having a dreary day and I hear "Here Comes The Sun", I can't help but feel a little bit brighter.  When I'm driving down the street and "Hey Jude" comes on, and all the people in the car start singing I can't help but laugh.  When I hear "All You Need Is Love" I think about my wife.  The list could go on and on.  But that would be boring.

The point is this; I can't help but wonder what kind of a world it might be if everyone had something, just that one something, that just clicked for them and made them happy.  Something that wasn't predicated on rhyme or reason.  Something they could just enjoy without other people making them feel foolish or whatever for doing so.  I'm content knowing that this makes me happy simply because it does.

What makes you happy?