See. Say. Smile.

Don’t stop Bee-lieving

I fall asleep very nearly every night to music and last night I let Pandora have a go at my slumbering soundtrack. One song in particular melodically sneaked it’s way into my psyche and bore an amazing tale of adventure into my head that reflected as a dream to the songs own story.

Honey Bee by Zee Avi is that very song.

The dream story breaks down like this:

In the bee world of uniformity, order, and rules, bees are paired off for efficiency and so neither gets lost when they go out collecting pollen. One lucky pair specifically is comprised of a boy and girl bee who find out soon enough that they each have bigger dreams than this restrictive bee hive and soon fall in love. Trouble follows when a storm separates them and the girl bee gets lost. The male returns to the hive alone with hopes she is there. Not only is she not there, but the rules dictate that you must return with your partner or ‘bee’ exiled from the hive. As the song indicates, the bee’s stripes are taken and his wings broken off.

The male bee now sets off on a journey to find his love and knows in his heart that she is still alive. He plans to travel to other hives with hopes she has settled at one. Along the way he has many obstacles and meets many friends to contribute to his journey. The birds teach him how to make a new pair of wings out of twigs and leaves. The butterfly’s teach him how delicate life is. The wind shares clues about where she might be and about dangers of the world. One particular danger is a reputably dangerous bee hive that he might have to visit and inevitably face it’s queen if he ever wants to see his love again.

He’s prepared for that and journey’s toward it. This dangerous bee hive is surround on all sides by treacherous rose bushes and has rarely ever been visited by outsiders. All the while he is worried about the safety of his love.

::This is my favorite part of my dream::

He finally escapes the dark and gloomy thorns of the rose bushes and reaches the hive of such reputation. The hive is beautiful, the kind of beauty he always imagined a hive to be. With trepidation and confidence he wanders into it ready for the dangers that may come. No guard bees, no worker bees; there’s no one to be found, save the queen.

His love.

She has been building this hive for them since the day they were first separated. She knew he would find her and during his adventures she has been having adventures of her own. The storm landed her in this beautiful enclosed area and she began the stories and ominous reputation of the hive she built. She did it because she knew that he alone would face that to find her. Reunited at last, they shared their tales and made the best tasting honey for the rest of their days.

What’s in a name anyway?

I am so often astonished by the staggering social ineptitude of people out in the world that I find myself compelled to just go for it. I guess I get so caught up in the anonymity of being hidden in plain sight that my mentality just becomes carefree and cavalier. I figure that since these particular people seem to have no grasp of societal cues I might as well see what I can get away with. I’m such an asshole.

I walk into class and I sit down. Two of these aforementioned dolts sit across from me at our desk. It’s an art class so the tables do not face front and these fellows are facing me. My teacher quietly informs me that I am the recipient of a cash prize from an art show I entered, however, in order to collect it I must write a thank you letter to the organization awarding the prize. I begin hand writing the letter as my teacher prepares for class and one of the two across from me addresses me in conversation. He isn’t quite sure of my name so he confirms by asking “Gary, right?”

In the split second it took me to look up and blink I already knew what I was going to do. I offered him a smile warm enough to bake a pie and said, “You got it!”. He began talking to me about how he wished he could have had some of my french fries the last time we were in class. He told me that he intentionally vocalized that it was his birthday so he could have some of my fries, but that I wasn’t listening. I was friendly to him when he spoke to me and this opened a door that I always seem to open.

I bring myself to be the bare minimum amount of courteous and nice to people, and they respond to it with fervor. I don’t claim to be some masterful charmer, but I seem to give off an air that people love to breathe in until I die of asphyxiation.

Throughout the remainder of the class he continues to address me as ‘Gary’ several times and makes intermittent conversation that I politely reciprocate with faux-thusiastic smiles and chuckles. Towards the end of class someone brings up the art show and as this chatty Cathy is asking if I’d like to play x-box online with him he is interrupted by our teacher loudly announcing that our own “Tyler has won first prize in the student art show!” and points to me.

Everyone looks at who is definitively Tyler and claps per the teachers request.

I look down at my desk and tightened my lips to hold back an awkward smirk. My expression wasn’t for the pride of the art show, it was for the student who knew me as Gary. I looked up at him and widened my eyes so they could tell him “yeah…about that…”

I made two people feel like an ass. Me and the fellow who was trying to win a talk-a-thon. I don’t feel too bad though because a part of me always relishes an embarrassing moment. I’ve always felt that it builds character.

I must be trying to build a city.