*see previous post titled A-Typical Morning for an account of the first few hours of this day.

I had woken up at sometime around 4am, as I am often to do these days.

Wait a second. Turns out I don’t really give a shit. I could run through, event by event in detail, of my time in Mt. Angel Oregon Oktoberfest. The pretty drive up, being so early I didn’t have to pay for parking, getting to walk alone amongst the event staff as if I was one of them, waiting for things to open, getting a sausage breakfast, talking to a local old coot, watching the festivities begin and the people packing in, going into the great catholic church (cathedral?) in between masses and doing my own little heathen prayer, the food, the ONE beer I got that tasted as bitter as well I don’t actually I usually can’t taste bitter things so you know it was bad even though everyone else seemed to love it, the walking and the listening and the shops and the people. Whatever man. It was a good time, you should try it.

A few highlights were buying several hundred dollars worth of lederhosen and accompanying shirt. I now own what are essentially tight-ass leather man-pris. For what purpose? Halloween maybe and I guess I had better go to Oktoberfest every year for the rest of my life to justify the expense. I spoke to a writers guild and they seemed really lovely and invited me to join. I would have owed a due of like $20 when I went to sign up later on their website, this did not dissuade. The fact that I had to link a Facebook account and send in a selfie “because an audience wants to know their authors” totally revolted me. I know I’m pretty lonely in this camp. Those of us that prefer to know nothing about the artists behind a work and just appreciate the art. I don’t even like knowing what the members of a band look like, it kind of ruins the music for me. Irregardless, I have no regrets about my venture. It was fun and interesting and new. I went alone and that was freeing. I would have loved some company along, but I didn’t have any. So I made my own. I encourage you to do so. Try stuff. Go places. Why not, yadda yadda

But my fond recollection of my first ever Oktoberfest is in stark contrast in my mind to our Seattle trip which occurred only a few weeks before. Everything that happened on the trip was awesome in pieces. Seattle was cool, the people I was with I loved the company of. I just can’t shake this feeling about it. Even the parts that could be cause for vacation drama are in my mind, funny. They made the trip worth while. In such a short trip we have so many stories to share and laugh about.

The many weeks since our visit I’ve been trying to pin down where this bitter taste (whatever that tastes like) is coming from. At first I suspected the others on the trip. Maybe we just had a weird selection from our circle. A mixed bag with a dynamic that was missing something. But this is utterly foolish. Incorrect upon any real consideration. I then wondered if I had just had different expectations for the trip. Maybe I wanted to go do other activities that got out voted or passed by too quickly. Some of this is true. I would have liked to be more leisurely for some things and would’ve passed over others. But I still got everything that I would have wanted and more. And I couldn’t have nearly as fun of a time without those around me.

And so, after hours of genuine retrospection I have to come to the souring conclusion: It was me.

I didn’t like myself on that trip. It wasn’t that I was frustrated with others, I was frustrated with me. I have been feeling this a lot lately. I think its because I am so desperate for socialization that I go in too hard. I am sure that any of those welcome bastards that came with me to Seattle that are reading this do not feel that I was a detriment to the adventure. No more so than any other member anyhow.

I don’t really know how to say this in a way that would make sense to an outside observer. It is painfully complete to me and that’s what counts. I can say the following about myself and maybe you’ll see what I mean.

I am chronically cynical. The things I say and think are so often negative. I rely on shock and insult. I think up things absurd. I pose inappropriate questions and statements. Just to get attention. Just to be different. And it isn’t that I am trying to do so, unfortunately this is just where my mind goes. I don’t have much of a filter. And I get my little social wins by making people laugh or show emotion. I like digging under skin. I can be offensive. Sometimes I go too far, but usually I just right up to the line. And I know my audiences’ limits and am careful to skirt the edges as best I can. But still, if you sum my statements you get something overwhelmingly NOT positive.

The things I dislike about the trip are things I thought, I did, or I said. I wish I had been different. I am the bitter taste. I realize why I can’t taste bitter. It is because I am bitter. I am nose blind to myself.

I just want to smile more. Not because I got a crack out of someone, but because something good is happening. I wanna say good things, think positive thoughts. Trade my cynical for appreciation. Lighten up. Let myself have fun. The first step in that is probably to stop caring to much about myself. Let some shit go. Be in the moment and quit trying to conquer, or be the center of attention. I wanna be a content sideliner sometimes.

I like myself don’t get me wrong. I am very comfortable in my niche. I just need to stretch my legs a little. I’ve been stagnant too long. Another thing I noticed on the trip, that isn’t necessarily bad, is that things and people are changing. I saw it first hand. And maybe that shook me too.

Thanks for coming to Seattle with me. It was a very important thing.

I am not an orange. With sweet flesh beneath. I am pith throughout. With hard little seeds that’ll never grown.