Do I really need a sign?

Ok... so I'm posting again... but think of this as a misplaced Saturday post. I was supposed to write this then, but... I... uh.... forgot.

Better late than never (except for cancer, maybe?)

Ok.... here's the issue:

Going back to the idiocy thing... another argument was recently made lending more (apparently) credible evidence that I might actually be an idiot.

Allow me to explain....

John & I had such a good time on Friday that I wanted to extend the fun. Since I was going to be in that part of town anyway on Saturday, I suggested that we have lunch. He was cool with that. I invited another friend along but she was out house hunting.

Not surprisingly, John & I were talking about the night before. And the issue of my apparent blindness to the subtle cues of feminine coyness was broached. John contended that a woman was flirting with me at the concert. My facial expression, which consisted of the standard furrowed eyebrow and the slightly dropped jaw, suggested my forthcoming quizzical response, "What are you talking about?"
John proceeded to outline the behaviors suggesting the aforementioned flirting. Once again, my response was, "What!? She asked me for a light! How is that flirting?"
So I still don't know what he saw. Ok, that was Friday.

Then on Saturday... we were at the restaurant. The hostess had a fold in her collar. So I fixed it for her. She said, "Thank you." End of story.
Ok... so once again... Obe John Kenobe sees this interaction as flirting. Once again, "What!?"
He said he was observing her reactions to me and her responses. Ok... maybe his years of nursing help him notice differences in pupil dilation, respiration rate, or skin sheen.... but what the hell was he talking about?

So anyway... it makes me wonder if I need a sign or something. He isn't the first person to tell me that I'm being flirted with. And here I was going through life thinking I had a pretty good handle on human behavior. (other peoples' behavior)

It would help explain why I have been accused of being stand-offish when I meet new people, esp. women. I suppose if I was trying to flirt w/ someone and got no response, I might think that. So I'm (begrudgingly) having to admit that MAYBE there is something to the "I'm an idiot!" theory. This has come up a few times in recent weeks. And the creepy part is that this has been discussed by a few people. Hmmm.

Ok, maybe I do need a sign.

After all, it helped Sheldon....





Be well

Boy am I glad he called!

On Thursday I got a call from a buddy of mine.  He wanted someone to go the Dropkick Murphys  concert Friday night.  All he had to say it was Celtic/punk and I was in!  I had honestly never heard of them before.  Boy am I glad he called!!!

What a blast!  I wasn't sure what to expect so I planned to dress conservatively.  Normally I would don my kilt to such an event, but I had never been to Concrete Street Amphitheater before so I didn't know the layout.  I had my kilt in the car, but decided against it since it has no pockets and I failed to bring a purse.  (man-purse, by the way!  More of a leather pouch really.)  

Anyway.... John talked me into it and loaned me one of his Utilikilts (they have pockets).  Good thing too, the environment was quite conducive to kilt donning!  All standing, no nasty, wet, or dirty seats or benches to sit on.  

So I met him at his house and we gradually made our way over to Concrete Street.  As we were walking up to the ticket booth we could hear the 1st of the 2 opening bands playing.  As it turned out, the guy in the booth was an old friend of mine with whom I used to work several years ago.  Its always cool to see old friends in unexpected places.  

It wasn't too crowded.  Plenty of room to move around.  After a little grub, John and I downed our first Guinness then made our way closer to the stage.  We caught the tail end of the band and were impressed when they were breaking down their own equipment (instead of roadies).

Shortly thereafter, we bumped into a mutual friend.  That was unexpected and refreshing.  It kind of makes you think that other people have lives too!   Go figure!   haha

I even ran into another one of my coworkers from my previous job.  That was a little more of a surprise, and another one of those moments that reminds me I need to get out a little more.  Who knows, I might actually meet people!  What a concept!

Anyway...

The second band was a pleasant surprise.  Too bad I don't recall their names right now.  

Then Dropkick came out and the crowd went nuts!  I see why!  It took me a little while to warm up, but after a couple beverages and a cigar, I was warm.  John didn't need as long to start getting into the spirit of the event.   He was bouncing around to the beat long before I was done with my cigar.  

About half way through the show I finally got into it.  So much fun!  I'm not much of a dancer, but bouncing up and down is easy.  The next thing I know, my feet started kicking out as if I was dancing a reel or a jig.  I really didn't know what I was doing... other than just having a good time and dancing.  By the end of the concert John, some others, & I were swinging around each other by the elbows, kind of like the old square dances we had to learn in second grade.  

What a blast!!  Boy, am I glad he called!

Here's a taste of Dropkick Murphys.

Be well

R - E - S - P - E - C - T

I woke up with a thought this morning. Actually, I wake up with a thought every morning. But today's thought wasn't my usual "I wonder how long I can lay here before having to go to the bathroom."

This morning I was thinking about respect. So here is my question...

Would you rather be respected or liked? That is assuming you had to choose. And why do you think that?

I was ready for a lengthy discourse on the difference between the two, but as I sat down to write this post the answer(s) came to me.

So, my friends... this is a a short post. Now raise your hands and cheer like a 9th grader that found out he won't have homework for the weekend. (the sad thing is that someone will)
(that sadder thing is that I think I know who) :-)

I will let you chew on that that for a while. I'll post my answer later. I want to see if anyone thinks along the same lines as I do.

See ya soon!

Be well

Is idiocy subjective?

I recently found out that I might be an idiot. But the jury is still out on that.
Who knew?
Wait... don't answer that. :-)

I spend so much time introspecting, that apparently I don't see things around me very well. (exospecting..???) But I'm not entirely convinced. I turn the scope inward quite regularly, but I guess I am poorly adept at looking at my environs.

Here's the question..... Would you want to know if you were an idiot?
Just when I think I have a handle on things, someone comes along to tell me that I was holding the wrong handle. (sigh)

I have always done pretty well at assessing people and situations. That is, as long as I'm not in the picture. Score one for objectivity.

This issue fits in with what I call my "Frame Theory".
We go through life looking at our world through a particular framework. Things within the frame are focused and clear. This is our world. Think of this frame as our relative world. This is what is relative to us. We develop our opinions and judgements about the world within this frame. We have to. Our brain is designed to allow us to function efficiently within this frame.

As we approach the edges, things get fuzzy. The lines become blurred. Our experiences determine how broad our frame is. But when we encounter something that isn't "usual" its classified as "outside" our frame. Since it is outside our frame, we do one of two things....
try to make it fit... or disregard it. It becomes peripheral junk. Kind of like all the garbage orbiting the Earth. It there... but we don't pay much mind to it... that is until a piece of it comes hurtling toward us at 22,000 mph.

Then we have to acknowledge it. And that requires effort. That effort requires energy. That energy has to come from somewhere, therefore it is taxing on our mental resources. Follow me so far?

So.... our response to the "peripheral junk" depends entirely upon what we already have within the framework. So we consciously or unconsciously apply familiar experiences to this peripheral material. That is us trying to make things fit. When that doesn't work... meaning... when we still can't make sense of it... we discard it. But we can't always do that. So this is when we are hit with anxiety.

Now, anxiety isn't always a bad thing. It kind of forces us to deal with the offending new material. Until it gets resolved, that is, until we can make sense of it, we will continue to have anxiety about it. Anxiety can be quiet and calm, but it is merely a term to describe a sense of mental discomfort. When it becomes more serious, physical manifestations can occur.

This whole process has a name... in Social Psychology its called "Cognitive Dissonance". Everyone deals with it on a daily basis, and we make small adjustments to our frames. These adjustments are called "experience".

With all that said..... I'm at the fuzzy edge right now. I'm having to reevaluate the world just outside my frame. Damn.... and I was doing pretty well for quite a while.

As a result.... the conclusion to this exploration is as of yet undetermined.
I guess we'll just have to wait and see. :-)

Be well.

Kharma... what a wonderful bitch you are. I respect you.

Y'all ready for this?
I'm having some issues. I know I'm gonna piss some people off, but damn it to hell... I'm gonna speak my piece!
I'll begin with something on the lighter side, but it kind of sets the tone. Its actually quite funny, but you'll get the connection shortly.

One of my favorite (yes, another one. But this one is currently airing) :-) TV shows is The Big Bang Theory. There is a scene from one of the earlier episodes where Sheldon (tall guy) and Leonard (glasses) are moving a heavy box up a flight of stairs. Well, as expected, gravity plays a roll. Here.... just take a look for yourself...




Just goes to show that some laws can't be broken.
Hence, my connection to Kharma here.

There are a myriad of quotes & expressions pertaining to the universal idea of kharma; e.g.
"We reap what we sow."
"What goes around comes around."
"We reap the fruits of our labor."
"Life's a bitch, then you marry one." (kidding... just had to throw it out there)

You get the idea.

Well, I'm feeling vexed about some recent developments. This is where my tenacity for honesty gets me in trouble, which in turn, leads me question what a civilization's expectations are of its residents. Big stuff, huh? Yeah, well... check out my flow....

Ok... here's the deal.
One of my best friends had a good friend of hers in Iraq. A couple months ago my friend calls me up laughing her ass off and she wanted to share something very funny with me. So she goes on to explain that her friend in Iraq posted a picture on a myspace page... or he emailed it to her... something to that effect.... of him standing next to a local person holding a sign. They were both smiling for the camera. Now my memory is a little foggy on this detail, but the sign apparently read something to the effect of "When I'm not killing Americans I'm f&#*ing camels."
So this was deemed as hilarious by the American soldier in the picture and his buddies. Apparently so hilarious my friend had to call me right away to tell me about it.

I wasn't amused. I got mad. And my friend wasn't laughing much longer. I'm sorry about that but was it wrong NOT to laugh along. I basically told my friend how appalling that is and how UNcool it is to make a mockery of someones culture. I was pissed. I wasn't about to laugh along giving my friend the idea that it was acceptable, even funny, to do that. The Abu Ghraib prison incident comes to mind here.

A few days later my good friend called me back to say that after thinking about it she decided that it really wasn't funny after all. Ok, then... that was done.

Well, about a week ago her friends company was ambushed & he got shot up pretty bad. The story is that he took numerous bullets to the leg and torso. He was medevaced out to a hospital where the painstaking process of multiple surgeries commenced. After several surgeries he was still in critical condition. My friend called me every day or every other day with updates. All I could really tell her that each day he survives, the better the odds become for him to recover.

I don't know how to appease a person's grief. Grief is something each person has to work through. She was particularly anxious because of the worry. She didn't know if he would survive to the next day. I don't envy her pain. But there wasn't much I could do about it either.

A couple days ago she called again with another update. He died. The damage was just too extensive. He survived about a week but ultimately, the wounds took him. People were saying that the reason he survived as long as he did was because he was very healthy and fit. So he died a soldiers death. And I feel nothing for him. Of course, here someone will take my words out of context to paint me as a villian. Go ahead, if that is what you need to do to feel less guilty about something else yourself, go ahead.

Hence my state. My friend called to tell me about his death, and I offered neutral responses in return. I just can't get myself to pretend to be something I'm not, or feel something I don't. This is the part where I'm sure people are going to be mad at me. Oh well.... such is life.
After talking a while my friend said to me sarcastically, "Thanks for the support."
And I told her the truth. I never liked the guy from what she told me about him. I'm sad for her loss of a friend (Which is genuine and true. I am sad for her loss.) But I won't grieve with her, nor will I pretend to. I never knew the guy. I truly felt (feel) nothing. So I guess that makes me a real SOB.

Here is where I get to the question part.... What does a civilization expect from its residents?

Am I expected to squeeze out a couple of tears on behalf of my friend? Am I supposed to behave as though humans are a dwindling population and that's one closer to extinction?
Am I expected to focus the next week of my life on her well being?

Somebody tell me. Tell me why I should be or do something that I am not?

You know.... I may be damned for saying this, but I am convinced that other people think the same stuff but practice more social etiquette than I do, therefore won't say anything. As far as I'm concerned, those people have no balls. (figuratively speaking, of course).

We expend so much effort on coddling people and enabling their dysfunctions, that we risk damage to ourselves in the process.

With that said... there are times when people really do need that kind of support. And when it's time for that I will be there. But here is my gripe (Well, one of them)...
We have cultivated such a nurture-craving society. It starts young. A kid falls and scrapes his knee.... Mom rushes over scoops the crying kid and begins this process of ritualistic pampering. Holy Crap people... its a scrape! Or a kid complains that another kid in class is calling them names. Mom & Dad go the principal and demand that child be reprimanded or they threaten legal action. Puuhhllleeeaaaaaase. Its elementary school!

So we start the "wah" training pretty young.

But it doesn't stop there. It carries over into adulthood.
A guy isn't happy with his life. He goes to a doctor and complains about this and that. Doc says he's depressed. Guy goes to Uncle Sam and says he can't work. Uncle Sam gives him free food and a check every month. (Don't even get me started on this one.)

Now... There are many of you that don't do this. Kuddos! Keep it up. We need more people to be more abrasive. We need to teach our kids to be "tough". We need buffalo skin. I have noticed a bit of a movement toward this. This is not only a good thing, but also necessary.

But all this goes back to my friend... was I wrong? Maybe so. The point was that she needed support from me as her friend. I certainly see and understand that. Now here is another question... its a biggie...... Is it fair to expect me to be something that I'm not so I can console another?

That is where I'm vexed. I'm not minimizing my friends grief. Not at all. My contention is with the expectations placed upon me in this situation.
I had a friend once. (Yes.... just once) hehe..... anyway.... he and I were close. He was one of my best friends. After college we went separate ways. Over time I realized that he was an asshole. But my desire to have a fun friend at the time presided over my rationale. Besides, I wasn't nearly as judgemental then . If something had happened to him then, I think I would have grieved. But today is different. His wife (who was his girlfriend in college.... whom he cheated on routinely) called me (out of the blue) a couple years ago. She was setting up a surprise birthday party for him and wanted me to go. She thought it would be cool to assemble his closest college buddies for a "real" surprise. Well, it would have been that. At first I said I had a lot to do and wasn't interested. (Lie) I didn't have a lot to do. (Truth) I wasn't interested. So I used a lie to coddle her a little bit. But she persisted. Then I told her more truth.... that I really didn't care for him and would rather have no association with him ever again. She was silent. She said she had no idea. Well, of course you didn't, I said. How could she. She said it saddened her and that she was disappointed especially since we were so close in college. Yes, I know. "Were" being the operative term. But I still did some coddling anyway.... I didn't tell her that he had a separate girlfriend in college for about 2 whole years while she was still at home. (They have no clue about this blog so the secret is still safe) I realize that could have been rather damaging to their relationship, esp. so many years into their marriage. But my point here that I was so indifferent that I really didn't care either way. So I remained truthfully neutral. I didn't speak ill of him, I just said we sent separate ways and that part of my life is history.

About a year ago I got a call from him. I don't remember what prompted the call. But I got home to a message from him on my answering machine. I listened to it about 4 or 5 times trying to listen to his voice... things in the background.... clues as to where he was. Was he visiting his parents in Portland and that is why he called, or was it just random.... that sort of thing. I listened to it again before deleting it. I never considered calling him.

So what's the point to all this? Well, I avoided a whole lot awkward discomfort by never calling. I think that I was expected to at least call. I think that social convention here would dictate to reciprocate the call and say "hi"... or whatever. It would be "courteous & considerate". OK... courteous and considerate to what...??? I ask. Toward my old college friend? But I no longer care for him, so why should I be courteous and considerate? I am completely indifferent.

If I had called, I would have had to be honest and just say, "I have no feelings for you so I want nothing to do with you." Because I refuse to reinforce what I consider a flawed social convention in the first place.

So going back to my friend who is grieving the loss of a friend, what would you do? What do our mores dictate is appropriate here?

I am sad for my friend's pain. But I am not sad for her friend. I feel for the soldiers around him. I know the soldiers bond is unique and tight. I respect the person who fights for what he believes. So I am sad for his comrades. I may have never been a soldier, but I am a product of a soldier's family. (Check out my blog posts from July 2008.) So I understand a little.

This stretch of road is a little bumpier on this journey of mine. I really am not surprised why I spend most of my evenings & weekends alone. I am a rather disagreeable person. Very few people "get" me. And because I refuse to play along with the social games, I don't really fit in with the common culture. This helps explain why I'm 40 and have never been married. If I give my friends this hard of a time, can you imagine what my wife would have to put up with?
No thanks... I might be a decent fellow overall, but I wouldn 't marry me.

Stay safe & be well!

Seeking Catharsis

I'm irked right now. I'm actually more than just irked... I'm also livid. I am utterly pissed off... seething on the inside. But the funny thing is that I'm more irritated than angry b/c I was planning on writing about hanging out with my friend on Saturday, but now this event occured and is at the forefront of my mind. This event is what pissed me off, but I'm more irritated b/c I have to make adjustments to what I planned on writing.

How weird is that? So instead of seeking catharsis, I'm annoyed at having to figure out how to approach this post. Go figure...

There must be a certain word my kind of messed up! :-)

Ok... so I sat on it a while. I ate. I took a call. Watched a few music videos and I'm no longer actively pissed off... just still angry... but calm.

So what the hell happened....??? You may ask...

Not really a big deal when you look at the big picture. I had a portable hard drive stolen in my classroom. It isn't as though it was my life's work... my validation for being... nothing like that. It was just all my school stuff.... you know.... videos, lesson plans, assignments.... stuff like that. I only had about 20 gigs of stuff on it. The drive itself is nothing special, although it was about $60 for 60 gigs. But I've wasted more money on lap dances inside of 20 minutes. So there is the perspective. Not a big deal.... until I think of the sheer and utter perversion of a human that steals.

I hate thieves.

I haven't had any experience with murderers .... but I think I still hate thieves more. I'm not minimizing other crimes, just focusing on my loathing of those that take from others. I don't know if its good or not that I never caught anyone "in the act". I honestly don't know how I'd respond. If I came home to find a burglar in my house..... lord help that poor s.o.b....

Its during times like this I ponder the capacity of man to harm another man. Even kill. What does it take to take a life? What does it take to beat someone without regard. Is that a quality to envy, loath, respect, abhore, admire.... what? How do I view that ability? Let's be clear... I'm in no way saying that is a good thing for someone to be able to do that. I'm just wondering about the capacity to perform those acts. The truth is that no one can know what it takes until they are there. I don't imagine myself any differently.

So let's walk through this scenario... let's see where this takes me.....

... you know what... I'd rather not. At least not now. I tend to do that sometimes... that is to imagine scenarios and think how I'd respond. I believe that on some level that helps me make snap decisions if that situation should ever arise. But I've mellowed out for the evening. I don't need to get myself worked up again. :-)

I guess I'll just report the little bastard to the campus cops tomorrow and see what happens. I know who it was. The hard part is deciding how to treat the kid. I've thought of pinning him in the stall of the boys bathroom and scaring the bujeezus out of him... or just following him from class to class annoying the crap out of him. Or maybe announcing his name to every class as a thief and to watch him at all times... that kind of thing... yeah, you know... that fervent quest for catharsis.

But there is a theoretical catch.... maybe you don't know this... maybe you do... but anyway... the catch is that (supposedly) catharsis doesn't provide its intended function. That is to say, in theory, catharsis does not work.

Well, I still would like the opportunity to find that out for myself. :-)

Be well

Stephan

Entranced at Ren Fest

Last night the Hunter's Moon shone brightly as it arced across the great black canopy of night. Its hue cascaded over the clouds as if pouring pixie dust across the land. The edges of the moon were swimming in translucent rings that faded as the luminescent orb climbed ever higher into the sky. I could almost hear the cadence of the hoof beats falling upon the earth kicking up dirt and leaving a trail into the wilds of the lands beyond the horizon.
The riders, with hounds in stride, made for the distant hunting grounds in search of their prey... their sustinence. What do they talk about on the way? I wonder. Do they discuss strategies for bringing down their quarry? Do they speak of their lives and their loves. Do they partake in tales of passion or betrayal? Perhaps they spin fantastic stories of great hunters of yore.
Meanwhile, as the frost tickles the noses of the great Ursa in the north, he rushes to eat his fill of berries and what fish may be left to catch. With a swipe of his mighty paw, a struggling salmon flutters his fins and writhes one last time before its head is crushed under Ursas jaws. Before long, nature's banquet will close.

...all this from one glance at our moon. One cannot think of the night without the moon nor can I think of the moon without thinking of the mysterious past that moon has witnessed. This weekend past, I visited some of this history. And oh what a visit it was....

It started off innocently enough. A group of travelers assembled for a journey into the lands of wonder & merriment known as the Texas Renaissance Festival. "Hip Hip... Hazah" echoed through my mind as the time for departure neared.

I am reminded of one of my favorite expressions... "There's many a slip twixt a cup and a lip." And were there ever slips! The first was a sudden "pop" followed by the sound of shattered glass falling to the ground. We were loading vehicles and talking about travel plans when one of our travel companions leaned onto the glass of an open window in my truck and the glass couldn't support the pressure, so it popped and shattered. Our departure was delayed by a few minutes as we collected shards of glass from the seat and floor of my truck. My thoughts went from "Hip Hip... Hazah" to "Hip Hip... oh boy!" I guess it didn't matter much at that point, I don't have a working a/c anyway.

DEPARTURE

After a pit stop at the ATM (nothing like technology to enhance a trip into the past) we made our way to the rendevous point. My co pilot and I pulled off the road at a designated spot to meet the others. We were the first ones there. About 2 minutes after we arrived, an unexpected visitor befell us... from behind... with colorful lights spinning in quick circles. Two ambulating beings dressed in like uniforms (a little more of the modern world to see us off on our journey) walked up to the side of my truck. "May I see you drivers license and proof of insurance, please?" he asked in a tongue familiar to my ears. We weren't in the old world yet. We were still trying to escape this one. hehe
Apparently our exit from the freeway and pulling over on the side of an empty road aroused enough curiosity to warrant an inquiry into our activities. All was well, he was just checking things out. We explained we are going camping and waiting to meet our companions. Good thing he didn't ask to search the gear. I can't begin to imagine the mess that would have left. It took the better part of a whole evening just to cram everything into the boxes. I'd hate to have to do it again... on the side of the road.

My travel companion, of the female persuasion, was able to laugh with me, while eliciting the occasional honk from passersby as she stood in the road making adjustments to her shorts. I suppose that would look interesting if I were driving by at 70 mph too. Its a small wonder no one slammed on the brakes to get a closer look. Once we were assembled we made our way off. I couldn't help but wonder what hiccup lay ahead of us next.

ROAD TRIP

Much of the trip was uneventful. When traveling, "uneventful" is a good thing. That is until we hit the toll way in Houston. This was one of those days where I wished I had kept my mouth shut. "Its quicker to take the toll road." I said. It sounded like a great idea... at the time. Of course by the time we got to the camp grounds, I realized I forgot the salt and pepper... you know... for my foot. A foot in the mouth is more palatable with some spice. :-)

After a bit of confusion as to where other members of the travel party were we finally made it to the camp site.

HOW WE FARED AT THE FAIREST FAIRE

That first night all but I went to the bon fire to partake in the drumming, dancing, and festivities. No, I wasn't being grumpy. I just needed to unwind a little. Some down time was in order. I enjoyed a nice cigar and scribed a few pages in my journal. I could hear the rythm of the drums in the distance and the faint glow of a fire just up yonder. After a while I retreated into my ipod and finished my cigar. I wished that I had rememebred to bring my drum. Oh well, I figured on buying another one the next day anyway.

I didn't sleep in a tent. I brought one... well, two actually, but one was borrowed from friends that, sadly, were unable to join us. :-( But mine was donated to a worthy cause... a girl that had never been camping before. Who was I to deny the camping virgin a little bit of solitude behind the material walls of a tent? At least for her first time. :-)
So I made up my bed in my truck. It was quite cozy.... except for one thing....

...all the DAMN YELLING!!! There was a group of college aged 3rd graders arguing, cursing, and apparently slapping and head butting. This carried on for about 3 hours. But I managed to get some sleep after all.

The next day we went to the fair and the first thing I did was buy a new drum. I called it my Goldilocks Drum. I already have a drum a little bigger and one a bit smaller, now this one was just in the middle. And what a drum it is! Wonderful tone. I couldn't wait until that night. I planned on attending the fire that night and bringing my drum along... of course!

For me, most of the excitement came that night. I thoroughly enjoyed taking in the sights and the shows, but all day I was thinking about that night. You see, the last time I camped at the Ren Fest, there was no bon fire. There were no fires at all. Now, the campgrounds looked like a scene from some war movie where armies were camping out.

During the day our group split up and went several different ways. But we gathered again for the fireworks. Its always a spectacle. After the show I made my way to the gate, picking up my new drum as I passed the store where I bought it. Ever so eager my fingers tapped anxiously at the skin as I walked.

ON INTO THE TRANCE

Upon returning to the camp site we commenced with the preparing of dinner. Spaghetti was on the menu. I had a small problem, though. I was accustomed to tossing the spaghetti onto the ceiling to see if it was ready. No ceiling. Hence the problem. So I improvised. I tossed it onto myself. It stuck to my chest nicely. :-) Of course just about anything would stick to my velcro. If its good enough for me... its good enough for them. No one complained about the extra salt.
:-)

Shortly after eating, with my drum in tow, we made our way toward the sounds of beating drums and the noises of a collected crowd of people. I was becomming more excited with every step. As we approached the crowd, the fire was far smaller than what I thought it would be. By the size of the crowd you'd think there was a house burning... at least a shed. hehe

Apprehensive at first, I plopped down near the back edge where I could find some room on a log to sit. Gradually I tapped my drum as I was figuring the beat. I was a bit shy, but began playing a little more forcefully as I found the rythm. After a little while my friends called out to me. They had a spot for me closer to the center. After a short gulp, I squirmed my way toward their voices. I settled in near a few drummers and I had a bit of a view of the fire. There were some people dancing, mostly girls. I'm not complaining.

As my hands warmed and my confidence grew I began to play a little louder. It was noticed. A few of the dancers moved toward me a little. One of the challenges here is the sheer number of drummers trying to keep a steady beat. You'd think it was easy...

I wriggled my way closer to a guy, to whom I'd introduce myself, who was playing rather well. I followed his rythm and together we seemed to draw a few people toward us. Soon thereafter another young drummer joined us and followed our beat. The mood shifted a little as the rythm caught on... for a little while anyway.

I found my groove. We had a nice flow going, Rick & I, that is. A few more guys scooted toward us and we scooted a little more toward center. I was getting the hang of this. At one point, one of my friends was calling out to me trying to get my attention. He pointed out there were girls dancing topless around the fire. I would have to be extremely focused on something to miss that! But I cought a glimpse or two. Sorry folks... I was into the rythm.

Then came the pinnacle of the night for me. There was a brief lull in the drumming. Drummers were drinking water or beer, or whatever was nearby, rubbing their hands and taking some deep breaths. So I started up again.... forcefully and with confidence. It took about a minute then Rick picked up my beat. Then another and shortly thereafter all drummers took my beat in.... that's right... MY beat. It may not be a big deal.. but at that moment... at that point in time in this vast universe I started a wave and hundreds of people were riding it! Yeah baby... and the beat went on.... and on.... feverishly I played that drum tirelessly. I wasn't about to give up the beat. People were playing, dancing all in unison to a rythm that I established. I was entranced. My arm was on fire for a while but I did not yield. Sweat saturated my shirt and kilt. I would not stop. There was a crowd of girls dancing all around me... their skirts and hair brushing my skin. I could barely look up... I was so engrossed in my drumming I wanted nothing to distract me. I had to keep the beat. I had to know that I could. And that, my friends is what it was about. I had to know that I could! And I did!

At one point a strange woman jammed a bottle in front of my face offering to pour me a drink while I continued to drum, but I refused.... no distractions, remember? Besides.... "Who are you and what the hell is in that bottle?" No thanks. I could see the headlines now... "Scottish wannabe found in the woods with kilt around his ankles and drum between his legs" Enquiring minds want to know!

Folks, I know this is a long entry. But if you are still with me, then thank you!

Most of our group have dispersed by now. One remained with me. The mood kind of faded when we were constantly asked to stop drumming and move farther back. So a small contigent of us moved beyond the arc of the large circle and kept drumming, but to our own rythm now. There were too many drummers in the center trying to be soloists. Its OK though, I had my moment!

I looked over to my friend who was sticking around and he looked tired. He looked like he was drumming because he had to now. He suggested calling it a night. And I agreed. I was quite reluctant to stop. I wanted to experience that "feeling" again. What a rush it was. So we departed and hobbled back to the camp site. We were tired. My hands were very warm. I was worried that I would be sore the next day. I half expected my fingers to swell into stubby little sausages, but they didn't. I was quite surprised to find that I was fine in the morning. My elbow was a bit sore, but not to the point where it hurt.

ANOTHER DAY AT THE FAIRE

The second day was less eventful. It was more tranquil. I donned "regular" clothes. My kilt was so damp from the night before and the humid morning I decided against wearing it again. As a result, I was the one taking the pictures that day as opposed to being in them. Oh well. :-)

We took in a little more sweet food this time. Perhaps to replenish what we spent the previous day. We left the park by 2:30. We packed up slowly and gradually made our way toward Houston and on toward home. But we weren't there yet.

WHEN A COKE ISN'T A COKE

On our way out of Magnolia we made a pit stop for some road food and gas. I felt the need for a sweet carbonated beverage while the gas was filling. So I make my way over to the soda machine (of which I am notoriously distrustful). I usually avoid beverage dispensing machines.
But I figured that I wanted to get my drink and get on the road as quickly as possible. All the while, my travel buddy was stuffing her face while amusing herself at my shenanigans.

I put my dollar bill in the machine followed by two dimes. The dimes didn't register. Nor did they fall through the coin return. I told the clerk about the dimes and he seemed confused about how to proceed. So he came out to the machine and looked at it sternly. "I tried that already" I told him. So he offered to refund my dimes. But that wouldn't help me get a coke. I still had my dollar in there. Dollar bills don't generally fall through the coin return.

So he gave me a quarter. At first I thought "What about my dollar" then it dawned on me that he was giving me the quarter to put in the machine... duh! :-)
So I did and the money registered. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I pressed the "Coke" button. I waited a moment as I heard the gentle rumble of something happening inside. But still no soda. Then the "Sold Out" light came on. Figures. So I pressed the next one. Same result. Then I pressed the third and last "Coke" button. I heard the gears and the machine sounded like it was finally going to surrender its booty. Just as I began to smile at the thought of a cold coke washing down my throat (while my sandwich is marinating in mustard, mind you) my soda appears.

It was a Sprite.

So that, my friends, is my tale.

In honor of the Hunter's Moon and the drumming and dancing of this weekend past, I leave you with this video. It called "The Hunt". Enjoy.

Be well.