The Queen Declares that Life is a Bouquet of Balloons

There is an incredibly funny joke out there. It's side-splitting hilarious, bound to induce tears and possibly six-pack abs. It's clever and witty, with a punch-line that's completely unexpected, yet exceptionally well timed. It's the sort of humor that comedians would sell their own mother to possess, and days after hearing you still find yourself giggling in quiet places where giggling isn't allowed. This joke is rare and one of a kind, and I haven't heard it yet.

But I will.

People say that optimism is a false hope, silver linings are merely the beginnings of a gray rain cloud. Positive thought is a fancy way of setting yourself up for disappointment; the higher you let yourself dream the farther you can fall. This is true.

But if you never let yourself dream, you have already fallen. Brilliance doesn't stem from the safe route, from following in the footsteps of others. Stories are not born from mediocrity, are not born from the average, the mundane. We remember the ones who bet everything, who poured their heart and soul into their passions, and conquered. We remember them because they deserve to be remembered. Because their lives refused to follow a pattern, refused to settle.

Life is not a highway. It is not a straight path, or a crooked road. We are not all bicycles heading in one direction, merely changing our speed or the way we face.

Life is a bouquet of balloons.

We truly find out who we are when we cut the strings and see which way we fly. Because we all have the capacity to fly. Some balloons will tangle into telephone wires or around poles, brilliant colors dimmed by their destructive course. Some will soar straight into the branches of the nearest oak, anchored in the tree's solid safety; but still catching glimpses of sunlight peaking through the leaves, always wondering what they missed by not letting go.

But some balloons never stop. They reach towards the sky with a breath taking abandon, sunlight streaming, birds singing, flying higher and higher until they become one with the sky. Until they become one with the status of stars, only they achieved their own beauty.

These are the balloons we remember. They faced more perils than the safe balloons, risked more of their soul and their bounce. But they lived, and that is what we remember.

Because it doesn't matter if your glass is half full of half empty. All that really matters is what you are going to drink.

The Queen Declares that Friends are Wonderful and Marvelous with a Side of Supreme and a Dash of Epic

Whoever said that laughter is the best medicine had it all wrong. Laughter is the best everything. Laughter is the best in the morning, at night, or even in the middle of the day when it's so hot you feel like your sweating giggles. Laughter is the best served freezing cold or piping hot, wrapped up in pillows and blankets, around a coffee table or in a kitchen with a can of nasty Pringles. Laughter is the best when you can no longer breathe, when you are rolling on the carpet leaking tears of joy, holding your sides and trying desperately not to pee. Laughter is the best when it has to be contained, and your whole body shakes quietly and your eyes are twinkling and then it finally erupts into a symphony of laughter, a sound more beautiful than Beethoven and Mozart could have ever dreamed. Laughter is the best when you are not entirely sure why you're laughing, yet you do it anyway, a lot. Laughter is the best when its ugly, and your snorting and hiccuping and you sound more like an animal from Old Macdonald's farm than a girl. Laughter is the best when you giggle silently at an inside joke, or when you finally understand the story from the night before involving the blonde and a scratch and sniff sticker at the bottom of a pool. But laughter is always the best when it is shared with friends. Wonderful, wonderful friends. 

Because friends are the jelly to my peanut butter, the cheese to my mac, the syrup to my snowcone. Friends spice up my life and add meaning to my day, make me feel wonderful and incredible and loved without holding me down or pushing me away. They raise me higher than Josh Groban, and they don't even try.

Because a world without friends would be like a world without color. Functional, livable, but more dull than the Russian translation of War and Peace. Every friend adds a different color, a different shade to my normal black and white. A spot of blue sky, a dash of green grass, a vividly pink shirt, a sunny yellow beam, a splash of red across the walls. Each color blends and mixes, stands out and fades away; bringing joy and love everywhere it goes. It's like Santa Claus, only with more estrogen.

So my dreams of living stranded on a tropical island can no longer be a reality. As much fun as it would be to sleep on a rock, or cook my crawdads over a fire, or even talk to a sand volleyball that kind of looks like a face; unless my friends could be there with me (and we should totally go you guys, It would be legit) it would be like meeting Justin Bieber at a grocery store and your phone dies before you can take a picture. Friends are air, friends are water, friends are food, friends are shelter, friends are necessary for my survival.

And I have some of the most amazing friends in the world. They know who they are, and they know why I'm laughing.

The Queen Declares that Kings are Useless Pieces of Lumps Who Should Just Hand the Kingdom Over and Go Watch TV Somewhere Drafty

I'm going to become a robot. A silvery square robot with lots of shiny flat surfaces and right angles. I would shake your hand, but robots have no need for social niceties. In fact, I won't even smile at you. When you try to catch my eye, I'll pretend like you don't exist. I'll blink awkwardly when you try to give me a high-five, and when you tell me a joke I won't laugh (even if I secretly think its funny). And don't even try to hug me. It'll be like hugging a tree. A shiny, metallic cold hearted tree. But even in my lackluster state, my double A batteries will be warmed by the mere thought that emotions will no longer control my existence. My actions will be logical, precise. Every move carefully thought out and planned in advance. Pros's and Con's lists will become my passion; neatly typed in 12 point Times New Roman and sorted into separate columns by a ruler. I will never let myself care for something destructive. I will never care for something that doesn't care for me.

In the mornings my internal alarm clock will sound at 6AM sharp and I will rise from my perfectly average mattress, to face the perfectly average day. I will oil my joints mechanically, and preread the days assignments over a perfectly balanced meal of nuts and bolts. All my work will be excellent, everything will be perfectly proofread and perfectly researched. My professors will love me because my internal clock guarantees that I am never late for anything. People will begin to set their watches by me; the perfectly responsible, perfectly dependable, perfectly logical Queen.

It will be perfectly horrid.

Cause no matter how much I claim to hate them, emotions are the water to my gills. And even though it would be nice not to feel occasionally, I rather risk the dangers of swimming in the pond than gasp and flop for life on the shore.

So on days when it seems my foot resides permanently in my mouth, or I feel betrayed by someone I thought was a friend, or I fall for a guy who doesn't want to catch me; I know that someone out there owes me some serious karma. And it will all even itself out eventually.

If not, I always have a back up plan. And at least this is more creative than drowning my sorrows in a pint of rocky road, and maybe this way I'll actually have a laser beam.

The Queen Declares the Insanity May Now Begin

Life is a box of chocolates. An expired box, purchased at the local Walgreens with some left over change found in the bottom of your purse. It isn't a particularly tasty box. Half the chocolates are cheap and melted, tasting slightly of wax and the plastic used to wrap the outside. The cherry cordial tastes a little more like raspberries, and your almost positive that the green coloring on the rum nougat is not mint flavoring. But what are you to do? That last bit of sticky change was all the money you had left. And you are really craving chocolate. So you dump the whole batch into a pot, melt it down, and have some seriously wicked fondue. 


This is my life. 


I'm not perfect, not even normal. My story is something of a mix between a Lifetime original movie and America's Funniest Home Videos. And I think its wonderful.


Cause the worst thing in the world to be is boring. Or bored. Or in a state of boredom. That is where originality ends and mediocrity begins. And then you miss out on some really amazing adventures.


And I do love my adventures. That is what this blog is to be after all. I am the Queen, and the Queen declares life is meant to be lived. Beginning with me. 


Because everyone knows that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. But only the Queen knows that unless you had sugar and water, your lemonade is gonna suck.