Too Many Friends...

Somewhere between the Drillers game and the Dilbert game tonight, I came upon a realization. (While I was eating a Kudo bar. Those things inspire realization.) I've got too many friends and I can't keep them all happy.

Take tonight for instance. Earlier in the week, I had set up plans to play Dilbert with friends from church. The going-away party for the China team was tonight. A friend was playing a concert in BA. My LifeGroup wanted to move our next meeting to tonight. Another friend's birthday was tonight and plans were in the works for a Drillers game.

Count 'em, people! 5 things all asking for my time on a Friday. Dilbert had some priority because it was the first thing planned. Going-away party had to sit on the back burner. Concert in BA was nixed because I didn't hear about it until this morning. LifeGroup was shot down because I already had plans, though I said they could meet without me. I carved out the first half of my evening before Dilbert and made plans to hang out with them at Drillers Stadium, at least for a while.

I stood up and walked out of Drillers Stadium with the shouts of my friends telling me to sit back down ringing in my ears. At least the Dilbert people didn't bug me for being late.

I counted today; 73 days before I hit the road for school. 20 before I leave for Colorado. 29 until I return from Colorado. Roughly 40 days between Colorado and Wilmore. At this point, every moment with friends counts. So many friends... Old friends that I haven't seen in a while that I want to see one more time before I go. Friends that have been in the trenches with me for the past several years. Friends from church that are my coworkers, but my buddies as well. And a few random people that don't really fit into any of these categories.

I want to see them all.

But I can't!! Damn it, I can't. In my efforts, some people will get ignored so I can see others. It's inevitable. There's nothing I can do about that. I have to make some relationships suffer to keep up with others. It's a sick game, and I just can't win.

So how will things be when I leave? Will I have a myriad of almost-friends? Will I have a tight circle of good, close friends? Does it even matter?

I feel like I'm trying to hang onto a fistful of sand... It's all slowly slipping away, and the harder I squeeze the more grains fall out. Eventually, I'll just look at where a pile used to be and see a few grains remaining... I suppose that's inevitable.

I don't want to let my friends go... Just a few weeks back, I wrote a post begging them to hang on to me. What do you do? I don't know...


I can't. I just can't.

Thoughts Regarding Napping Upon Trampolines

You should try it.

This afternoon, I had the most singular experience. I was able to slip the surly bonds of existence and relax in a state of tranquil bliss unlike anything I have experienced.

Okay, so I really just took a nap on the trampoline in the backyard, but it sure felt great. I would highly recommend the experience.

It all started as a whim; I was just going to lay down and stare at the trees while my laundry was finishing up. I caught up my iced tea in one hand, a large fistful of Sunday-style-sleepiness in the other, and kicked back on top of a rather large black circle.

The sky was a little cloudy, so the sun wasn't too bright. The air was just a tad breezy, so the bugs were staying away. Surrounded by the wonder of nature, I stared upward. Towards the blue sky gleefully mottled with clouds. Towards the treetops gently swaying in the wind.

I took off my long-sleeved shirt and rolled it up under my head; it would make a decent pillow. I relaxed and let the wind play with my hair. I don't remember much after that.

Until I woke up. The sun had come out and was endeavoring to bake the trampoline, as well as it's occupant. Some bug had tried to eat my hand, but fortunately found the task a bit too daunting. My iced tea was unfortunately no longer iced.

However, the experience remained great. I think I'll do it again.

Comedy at the Crib

So Saturday Night Coordinator's meeting took place this week during the noon hour on Wednesday, as it always does. We met at Rib Crib. I'm not sure why exactly things transpired as they did, but it sure was worth a laugh.

Eddie, Brad, and myself were sitting before the meeting in the group room, shooting the breeze. In the middle of this conversation, a Rib Crib employee flew past the group room door shouting, "CODE YELLOW! Heads up!! We're going CODE YELLOW!!"

The three of us paused our conversation to gawk at the hole in the space-time continuum that the urgent employee had just left. I wondered out loud what the deuce "Code Yellow" actually meant.

Are terrorists attacking? Is it someone's birthday? Did someone find the Virgin Mary enshrined in the coleslaw? Did the giant vat of mustard in the kitchen finally run dry?

Alas, we shall never know.

After this odd moment had passed and normal conversation resumed, a surprisingly sudden wave of loud music assaulted our eardrums. The noise was enough to prohibit normal conversation, so I excused myself to resolve the issue.

There just so happened to be a meeting of employees outside the group room door. I'm not sure why they were there; perhaps they were defining the precise meaning of "Code Yellow." I approached the one who looked the most like the manager, and requested that the music be turned off.

In pig latin.

I'm not sure why I resorted to a dead language hailing from the forgotten and bygone days of middle school. All I know is that it came without thought and that I felt proud of my eloquence. "Ixnay on the usicmay." Perfectly understandable! Concise, clear, and even slightly comedic. It never crossed my mind that there may be people who have successfully resisted the persistent efforts of irrelevant culture making inroads into their psyche during the formative years of junior high.

However, today I ran across such a specimen who could not appreciate, much less comprehend, my mastery of early teenage communication. My astuteness was received with a blank stare broken by a slightly twitching eyebrow.

Fortunately, our waitress happened to be standing nearby. An obvious pillar of understanding, she grasped my request and speedily resolved the issue. I bet she also figured out what "Code Yellow" meant. Sharp young lady.

After these events, our meeting continued unhindered. I did have to resist the urge to call out "Code (insert random adjective here)!!"

I wonder how next week will go.

Cold, Hard Facts

At coffee last Wednesday:

Preston: "Have you ever found in your group of honors program friends that even though they are advanced intellectually, they might be stunted in emotional development or social skills?"

Me: "Oh, yes. We're all slightly crazy."