*Insert Big Sad Face Here*
It's so nice to go camping at Pennsic with everyone and be able to eat when I want and sleep when I want without having to satisfy "The Man".
Everytime I come home, I want to just quit my job and enjoy life instead of slaving away for "The Man".
So I have decided that I am going to stop working overtime. Just like that. Done. No more. I've had it. There are too many other fun things I want to do besides be stuck at work. Now, I don't *mind* my job but given a choice between doing what I want and having to work - well - HELLO! Wouldn't everyone want to just lay around and do what they want? Of course.
How was it? Too short in some ways. It always is. And how in the HELL is anyone supposed to sleep when it's so damned QUIET? You get used to drunks staggering the path singing and the drums beating until dawn then you come home and it's QUIET. WTF? I had to put my drumming CDs on heavy rotation just to lull myself to sleep for the first week after I got back.
What was bad? Well, I drummed so much the first week my hands were about numb and I had to sit out some drum classes because of it.
My allergies were barely under control. Ugh! I had to pop a handful of pills every morning like some sort of decrepit. (I just hate that!)
I ate like a PIG (but so did everyone else - it was weird - everyone kept saying how hungry they were and eating all of the time).
I forgot my ATM card at home (but I had enough cash on hand - it just kinda concerned me for a while).
What was good? Where to start? Lots of classes. Learned how to make soft cheese and promptly came home and tried it (it is excellent, BTW. That's the general consensus from the 'rents and the co-workers). Learned how to steam bread over a campfire; took another violin class (I keep threatening to get serious but I have too many other irons in the fire).
I cooked like a FIEND - this was the "cookin' Pennsic" probably because we were all so damned hungry.
One of the guys in camp went down to the lake and caught a mess of bluegill on Tuesday of war week. He said he'd clean them if I'd cook them. So I did. Just olive oil, garlic and salt and pepper. They were FANTASTIC!! Everyone in camp wanted more.
The next day, he goes back down to the lake and catches more and I fry them up for the potluck. They were gone in no time. That was really cool. I think next year I might help him catch them (but I can't clean them. I love fishy-fish and don't want to cut them open while they are alive - that's just mean. I have no qualms about skinning/gutting something that is already DEAD but getting one's guts ripped out is a horrible way to go - even for a fish).
What else was good? Well, I raided the old woman's liquor cabinet before I left. We managed to drink a couple of bottles that had about 1/4" of dust on them. The rest I brought home for another time.
Of course, I put my big mouth to use as a cry Herald (which was fun - it always is).
We had an intruder in camp on Tuesday night - he tried to break into one of the tents near the road and didn't realize someone was in it until they woke up. He fled. Later someone else was lurking around outside of the yurt. I was in it reading with the light on. I saw the shadow and called out to Becky thinking it was her.
When they didn't answer and moved around toward the back of the yurt, I grabbed the "Pineapple Killer" and ran out the door to catch them. Matt heard me swearing and came over to see what was going on. I told him so he spent the rest of the night patrolling the back of the camp. I still slept with one eye open. (What kind of FOOL tries to slip into an occupied tent when said occupants are armed with a very large sword? DUH!)
The next night, I stayed in camp and lit the torches, the campfire and patrolled the area since everyone went up to midnight madness. Nothing happened (thankfully).
Coming back to work was a culture shock. It always is. There's no music, there's no trades (blacksmiths hammering away, wood workers, calligraphers, cooks, instrument makers, tailors, etc) there's no "earthiness" to this life - if that makes any sense.
In this life, everything is dictated by the clock on the wall and The Man.
In that life, the length of the day and you FEEL dictates everything. If you're hungry - eat. If you're tired - sleep. If you want to go make music - go do it. Wanna take a shower in the middle of the afternoon? Fine. Do it.
So, yeah, I miss that sort of freedom. Mainly because I'm not a morning person and *this* world is geared toward morning people (the sick freaks!) But I have to be in the office by 9am (WTF? My eyes didn't OPEN until 9:30am at war!) and it's a bit of a pain. (Now I can SKATE in the morning - albiet pretty slow and stiffly but that's not "work").
Having people jump on your shit when you're still mentally asleep is rather annoying. Jump on my shit after 11am for best results. Better yet, wait until about 1pm and I'll be completely awake.
And, really, I can tolerate people jumping on my shit because I skipped a drum class or didn't show up at a party (like I was supposed to) or because the potatoes weren't completely done - not a big deal.
But people jumping on my shit because THEY screwed up and want me to pull their feet out of the fire? Ah, no.
Labels: Pennsic
The Rogue Goddess saw shadows dancing at 12:10 PM
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