I was gonna name this one "The Apology of Beloved", as a parallel to the Apology of Socrates, but as some of you may be familiar with that text, it was meant quite satirically. I will apologize later, but I will actually be sincere, so I want to not make light of the situation. In the mean time, a little housekeeping.
First off, Happy Birthday to a dear friend of mine, Anna Smith Beloved. As I look at my Gucci watch, it's not actually her birthday, but it will be once I post this, unless I can finish in the next ten minutes, which I doubt because all of my blogs consist of stories and digressions and tomfoolery and sarcasm and references to things that only a geek like myself would care about and people with names that I don't use in real life and rude remarks made about remarkable students and really really long sentences that are completely unnecessary, yet enjoyable for me. Where the heck was I? Oh yes, Happy Birthday, Anna. You deserve to have a tremendous one because you, yourself, are tremendous. You've had significant impact on my life, whether you believe it or not. You should believe it though because I said it on the internet, and you can't put anything on the internet that isn't true. Ok that's it.
Anyways, no quirky stories or ridiculous student bashing on this night. Fret not, school starts at the end of this month. Until then, I'm gonna try to play nice. Let me tell you guys a quick story. But before doing so, if you could be so kind as to ponder the following question...What do you consider to be a "date"? Ok, the story can now commence. Yesterday, or I guess officially the day before yesterday, was an interesting day for me. I spent some quality time with my siblings, Luby and Jack. Jack plays volleyball in coed leagues, so Luby and I decided to travel our arses out to Allen so that we could offer our support. The game, itself, is of little importance because they stomped the dookie out of the opposing team. A lot of that is due to my brother's prowess on the volleyball court. Cat-like reflexes, hand/eye coordination, and an intimidating vertical will make you a star in most sports. Volleyball is no exception.
So we head out to the game after dropping off Luby's siamese twins, and it is decided that I will drive her car out to Allen. It is decided. She was sleepy and hoped to get a power nap so that she could be alert during our brother's olympic level performance. She also indicated that if I were to drive, she would be able to drive us home. I'm cool with that. Fast forward through that beat down of a game, which happened to be the championship. The team is going to celebrate their newly acquired plaque at Pluckers, so of course we tag along. "You know I'm not driving." That's not my quote, either. So, again it is decided that I will drive to the next destination. By this time, I am getting disturbed, only because I do not like to drive vehicles that I am not insured on. I prefer not assuming the responsibility for anything going awry. That's just my logic, and I am comfortable sticking with it. But I drove because it was decided.
>> (That's me, hitting the fast forward button again). Pluckers was pretty cool. My waitress was attentive and they had a really good strawberry lemonade. They should pay me for this plug because I'm broke and just got them way more business than they've ever had. Oh, so this is where my question was discussed by the people sitting at our table. I'm gonna reserve my opinion for after you tell me yours. Y'all know how to reach me.
Anyways, again >> to the apparent breaking point of the situation. I'm sure that I made a much greater deal out of this situation than what it was worth, but that's what stubborn people do. Ladies, we all know that yall are smarter and far superior. Dang, there I go with that satire. It was again decided that I would drive back from Allen, in a car in which I am not insured, thus not comfortable assuming responsibility. Let me tell you why this was so difficult for me. Each time I mentioned a decision, I said that it was decided. I never once talked about what we decided. Why? Because I didn't even have a say lol. I don't think people will ever quite understand my aversion to being made to do something or being told what to do. It is, quite possibly my greatest peeve, and it causes what I know is an overreaction. I know this. I am accepting of it. I am apologetic about it. All I'm asking for is a shift in sentence form. Instead of imperative, use interrogative. By that, I just mean that I would love to be consulted on things that pertain to me. Just ask! Can I at least get that?
The reason I decided, against my better judgment, to blog about the event that caused temporary discord betwixt Luby and I? Simple. Communication is key. I'm not sure my point was ever heard, so maybe it will be read. In no way, am I suggesting that I am without blame. There are apparently some other things I do that could be offensive. I extend my sincerest apologies for my role in this incident.
This was a bit more somber than I care to be in my writing, but I felt it important because, well, when you care about somebody, you express it the best way you know how. I'm not a talker. Not that I'm a writer either, but I like to write.
Oh, by the way, I've decided to create a blog for my students this year, so when we get that set up I will most certainly share the link. It, in itself, should be filled with the spirit of genuine hilarity. I can't wait to see how it turns out. I've got training in the morning, and these things are filled with moments to be captured. It's quite possible that I'll be back sooner, rather than later.
P.S.-should I have just used P.S. on the part that starts "Oh, by the way..."?
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