Disneyland Man

Kids are neat people/taxidermy/cross stitch/unicorn rainbow

I am a believer in miracles. I have a list of things that I believe in more than anything else, you know besides The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day saints. Because to me, that is a given. At the very top of the list is love. I believe in love the way people believe sleep and food are necessities. Next is hope. Without hope, I am a mess. Third is miracles. My roommate bought a plunger and fixed the toilet. That is a miracle.
For four weeks, our apartment decorations have adorned our coffee table, sitting stagnate, doing nothing. Our theme is "tacky and ugly" but the decorations sat on the table, fading from existence. Today, I caved. I got a handful of tack pins and attached our "tacky and ugly" to the walls. I'm thinking of going into interior decorating now.
I think college students keep sky phenomena at the top of their priority list, but mostly for a reason to go up to the mountains and build fires. College students seem to be pyromaniacs, building fires every weekend for every occasion that could possibly come up. Aurora Borealis? Let's build a fire. Arbor Day? Bless the tree that sacrificed itself for our warmth and light. Birthday party? Just don't blow out the fire with the candles. My point is, nearly every weekend, there's a fire and I always show up because I'm a pyromaniac college student.
My roommates do not dance. They don't sway, shake, or shimmy. They do not dance. The more they do not dance, the weirder my dancing gets. I use to do the Hitch "90 degree angle/six inches apart/nothing crazy" dance. It has evolved into full body dance moves that could nearly shame the King of Pop, Michael Jackson. I need my roommates to dance. I'm lucky, however. I've made friends in apartment 25 and they dance with me. And they're boys. And they're incredibly attractive. So I'm lucky.
Just under two years ago, my grampa passed away from dementia. Today is his birthday. He was the man. He was the Disneyland Man. Even in his most diseased state, he taught me the most amazing lessons. I had to speak at his funeral, something I don't recommend doing. I loved my Disneyland Man. My best friend that I wrote e-mails to every single day for over three years. How grateful I am for the Atonement of Christ because I can be with my grampa again, my Disneyland Man.