Today is the day when I feel as if I can do nothing well. I look over the past few weeks and wonder what I have and what I do that is comparatively superior in my life. I don't think I am better at anything compared to the people I know. I just lost three straight raquetball games, a follow up to losing 4 straight on my birthday. After today's lost, I followed it up with a losing one-on-one basketball game. I ponder my other skills and can think of at least one person who is better than me. I am not looking, nor do I want responses telling me I am special or great in...whatever, or blah, blah, blah. I know who and what I am.
I am know to say it is better to know a little about everything, than everything about one thing. The definition of a "renaissance man." Whatever, I don't long to be famous, I don't wish to be on t.v., I am ok with being by myself, but I am not a big fan of second best in everything. Alas, it is a fact of life, one which I will get over (probably by the end of the day). It presents a challenge, and challenges are what I am about...so bring it on.
Friday, September 8, 2006
Wednesday, August 9, 2006
Crusades of the Mind
I am having one those weeks where my mind causes struggle, second guessing, and internal turmoil. Don't get me wrong, everything is fine, work is good, relationships are good. But, I feel as if God is waging a spiritual war in my mind. I am fighting the on going battle of where I am vs. where I need to/should be. I see an end result, I see paths to take to get there, but it is the in between parts that are taking me for a loop. When one portion of my faith wanes, BAM! God answers with a blessing or something that throws me for a loop, in a good way. I ask God what he wants, but then don't listen to the answer. Fear of the answer is the reason I do this. I know this is not my life I am living, but God's life for me, but at some point I have to fully relinquish my hold on what I think it should be.
I find myself negatively reacting to situations that are either completely out of my control or are actually awesome "God Times." I, thankfully, have been able to recognize when this is happening and try to fix it, but I just don't know why it is happening. I am bless to have outlets for this but, some things I must tackle with God. I metal wrestle with the goods and evils.
Let Go, Let God...my writing has too much Me, I, My...less selfishness, more growth and compromise. I know where I need to be, it's getting there that is the hard part. But, alas, I will make it through.
I find myself negatively reacting to situations that are either completely out of my control or are actually awesome "God Times." I, thankfully, have been able to recognize when this is happening and try to fix it, but I just don't know why it is happening. I am bless to have outlets for this but, some things I must tackle with God. I metal wrestle with the goods and evils.
Let Go, Let God...my writing has too much Me, I, My...less selfishness, more growth and compromise. I know where I need to be, it's getting there that is the hard part. But, alas, I will make it through.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Evolution and My Place in the Mix
Evolution...the nature progression of things. It is what turned the fish into a mammal, the mammal into a primate, the primate into a Neanderthal, the Neanderthal into a frat guy, and the frat guy into a human being. It is also responsible for turning the alligator into...well, a not so big version of an alligator, now, they compare in size to a canoe, which I will take over a school bus any day. But, not the focus of my thoughts...at least not right now.
For years I have been told my body has been subjected to the McCormick Curse. I mean everytime someone says I look like my father, I curse. Not really. No, it is more like my noise has the McCormick hump, or my feet look like those of my dad's brother or whatever...not to say my mother and her side hasn't pushed in a couple of doosey too. But, it really comes down to one big part of my body that I can now explain...my calves.
I have started to notice a pattern. My ability to grow facial hair more rapidly than others, uncanny ability to eat almost anything, cooked or not, but mostly it has been my enormous calves. Don't get me wrong, I am very proud of my legs, but I never knew what they were for...until now.
I have been born, nye evolved to hike mountains. This is my natural, God given purpose. Why else would I have the calves of a mountain goat, the face of a bear, and the stomach of a...a...ground squirrel (they too eat anything). I was meant to live in the mountainous woods and be one with nature. I don't belong in the flats of the Louisiana. So quickly I have forgotten the allure of the Rockies. How have I become accustomed to not having Mountains in the background of my early morning cup of coffee? Yet, a nine day "vacation" only brings me home depressed and searching for my way back. I search through Backpacker magazine to just remember the sight, the smell of last week before it is completely replaced by exhaust and jerry curl.
I tried for a work transfer, but alas, there is nothing of my company in Montana. I will figure out the way, and soon my newly realized evolved body will accomplish what it was meant to do. But, until then I will have to content myself with weekend hikes and once a year week long adventures.
P.S. By the way I just got back from 9 days vacation from Montana. If you didn't know this, then the whole post would just be, well, weird.
For years I have been told my body has been subjected to the McCormick Curse. I mean everytime someone says I look like my father, I curse. Not really. No, it is more like my noise has the McCormick hump, or my feet look like those of my dad's brother or whatever...not to say my mother and her side hasn't pushed in a couple of doosey too. But, it really comes down to one big part of my body that I can now explain...my calves.
I have started to notice a pattern. My ability to grow facial hair more rapidly than others, uncanny ability to eat almost anything, cooked or not, but mostly it has been my enormous calves. Don't get me wrong, I am very proud of my legs, but I never knew what they were for...until now.
I have been born, nye evolved to hike mountains. This is my natural, God given purpose. Why else would I have the calves of a mountain goat, the face of a bear, and the stomach of a...a...ground squirrel (they too eat anything). I was meant to live in the mountainous woods and be one with nature. I don't belong in the flats of the Louisiana. So quickly I have forgotten the allure of the Rockies. How have I become accustomed to not having Mountains in the background of my early morning cup of coffee? Yet, a nine day "vacation" only brings me home depressed and searching for my way back. I search through Backpacker magazine to just remember the sight, the smell of last week before it is completely replaced by exhaust and jerry curl.
I tried for a work transfer, but alas, there is nothing of my company in Montana. I will figure out the way, and soon my newly realized evolved body will accomplish what it was meant to do. But, until then I will have to content myself with weekend hikes and once a year week long adventures.
P.S. By the way I just got back from 9 days vacation from Montana. If you didn't know this, then the whole post would just be, well, weird.
Friday, July 7, 2006
Prelude to a Geriatric Circus
The following post is not intended to offend anyone as this is not the situation I feel towards anyone who I know that would read this blog. Please don't take my angered writings to heart. Have a good day.
Geriatric Circus
I have found that many older people are taking their opinions and pushing them off as fact. They think "youngsters" such as myself will not question the validity of the refuse coming from their mouths. They spout nonsense with no cause or room for debate. Granted I don't feel this way about every person I meet, especially not the Godmother or other's who I have an established connection. But those eccentrics, as we will call them, don't realize we are the Why Generation, the question asking, not-at-face value folks. They can peddle their verbal wares elsewhere.
Today I was in the car dealership, simply minding my business ( and I really was this time), reading my book. I casually glanced at a figure moving in front of me. I start at the black velcro shoes, my eyes move up the polyester pants to midway of the chest where a tucked in Hawaiian shirt with a palm tree island on the pocket holding the sagging contents of glasses, paper, and a wallet like a bulging grocery bag. His face was framed with matching hearing aids and a crest of dirty silver topped his head. He took one look at me, smiled and asked how long I had been here. After I answered him it was a twenty five minute berate of politics, religion, and the like.
He started on his Military career and chuckled as he spoke of his clout with long since deceased generals. He quipped of memorable stories and antidotes. Then the fun began. He went on to his recent surgeries, ailments, and other medical methods of preventing me from reading. Now, I am not without a heart, I do enjoy listening to the stories of old and the views of others, which I picked up on the fact that "P.C." was not a term he knew. I am a people person not without compassion and sense of propriety, but there is a limit. I gladly listened to the past 75 years of the man's life...but things took a turn.
He must have found me to be a fair enough mark to discuss religion. I use the term discuss lightly. I am always up for a good God discussion, even heated debate at times. But, his method of discussion brings forth the opening sentence of this. It's ok to have an opinion, even encouraged, but it is not ok to talk over someone else's opinion. To keep pushing your point more loudly and ferverntly when opposition arises. Repeating it and refusing to listen to other ideas doesn't make it true. It might in "crazy world," but not all of us live there. So, when you embark on mission of evangelicalism, remember it's not only the words you speak, but the words spoken to you. These are the methods for which your are more effective...hearing what the other person knows, thinks, and wants. God answer's prayers, this I know.
As I sat there staring blankly, at this point, to the man I pray for my cell phone to ring. A few minutes later I excuse myself to handle work...saved again...what amazing grace.
Today I was in the car dealership, simply minding my business ( and I really was this time), reading my book. I casually glanced at a figure moving in front of me. I start at the black velcro shoes, my eyes move up the polyester pants to midway of the chest where a tucked in Hawaiian shirt with a palm tree island on the pocket holding the sagging contents of glasses, paper, and a wallet like a bulging grocery bag. His face was framed with matching hearing aids and a crest of dirty silver topped his head. He took one look at me, smiled and asked how long I had been here. After I answered him it was a twenty five minute berate of politics, religion, and the like.
He started on his Military career and chuckled as he spoke of his clout with long since deceased generals. He quipped of memorable stories and antidotes. Then the fun began. He went on to his recent surgeries, ailments, and other medical methods of preventing me from reading. Now, I am not without a heart, I do enjoy listening to the stories of old and the views of others, which I picked up on the fact that "P.C." was not a term he knew. I am a people person not without compassion and sense of propriety, but there is a limit. I gladly listened to the past 75 years of the man's life...but things took a turn.
He must have found me to be a fair enough mark to discuss religion. I use the term discuss lightly. I am always up for a good God discussion, even heated debate at times. But, his method of discussion brings forth the opening sentence of this. It's ok to have an opinion, even encouraged, but it is not ok to talk over someone else's opinion. To keep pushing your point more loudly and ferverntly when opposition arises. Repeating it and refusing to listen to other ideas doesn't make it true. It might in "crazy world," but not all of us live there. So, when you embark on mission of evangelicalism, remember it's not only the words you speak, but the words spoken to you. These are the methods for which your are more effective...hearing what the other person knows, thinks, and wants. God answer's prayers, this I know.
As I sat there staring blankly, at this point, to the man I pray for my cell phone to ring. A few minutes later I excuse myself to handle work...saved again...what amazing grace.
Wednesday, July 5, 2006
My new Country Song
My new country song is called "Stuck in the Mud in Cloutierville." Pronounced Cloochie-ville. Also known as BFE central Louisiana. That was my day.
Up at 7, out the door by quarter til 8 and home by 5:00pm. Now that's a full days work. Not too bad, but when you spend 3 hours stuck in the mud...it puts a damper on your day. Ok, it goes like this:
I go to a house, not in my regular territory. 30 minutes earlier I sat in a storm eating a burger wondering if this was going to affect me..."nah, I'll be fine," I tell myself. I rush to my next claim to beat the rain. I am kicking that rains butt, it is now thirty miles behind me and I laugh as I glance at the dark clouds of where I have just been. I causally slip the the clouds the deuce, pull my sunglasses down and turn off in Cloutierville...
Three phone calls and two miles later I have found the drive way of the insured home. Not pavement, not gravel, not hard dirt, but a mixture of grass and soft mud. I think to myself..."this is going to be fun." I bury my head and take off slipping and sliding in the mud the back of my mind questions if the company will ever provide SUVs...since 80% of my drive ways aren't paved.
Three slides, one close call and a S-curve and I come to rest at the lady's house. Mud on my tires, and sides of my car. I am the coolest city kid I know. I take care of her claim, with a smile and nod I get in my car, reve my engine and look forward to a little fun on the half mile mud drive out. This time, in my cocky mindset, I call my adjuster buddy and say..."Hey, I am going muddin in the pimpin Impala, if I don't call you in Ten minutes...I didn't make it." Not thirty seconds after getting off the phone with him, I take a section of the road at a weird angle and slide off, but not completely. I high-lowed it. With the right side hanging off a three foot ditch and the right side dangles on the road. I put my yellow rain coat on and walk to the RV 150 yards down the road. This just happened to be the insured's parents house and he told me if I get stuck to got there.
I wake the poor, hurricane refuge from Gretna (they got demolished) out of his small FEMA trailer. He gets in his two wheel, rear drive truck and trys to get me out. Yeah, you know where I am going with this. 20 minutes later and no movement from my car and one more buddy stuck in the mud.
The man's son calls someone who gets a tractor and pulls us out. I drive in the grass the remaining way out so as to not get stuck again. I now have a hour and half drive home, soaking wet, covered in mud and freezing. It July and I have the heater in my car on. My at one time new car with a nice new color floor board. Well, I don't know if brown mud is a color, but it seems to be everywhere.
I have to say it wasn't a total wash. I was able to do work as I waited for the tractor to pull us out. The people were extremely nice and I felt like the punch line of one of those country songs sung in smoke filled country bars on kareoke night. I thanked the men profusely and hall ass back to the safety and security of the big city...so to speak.
Up at 7, out the door by quarter til 8 and home by 5:00pm. Now that's a full days work. Not too bad, but when you spend 3 hours stuck in the mud...it puts a damper on your day. Ok, it goes like this:
I go to a house, not in my regular territory. 30 minutes earlier I sat in a storm eating a burger wondering if this was going to affect me..."nah, I'll be fine," I tell myself. I rush to my next claim to beat the rain. I am kicking that rains butt, it is now thirty miles behind me and I laugh as I glance at the dark clouds of where I have just been. I causally slip the the clouds the deuce, pull my sunglasses down and turn off in Cloutierville...
Three phone calls and two miles later I have found the drive way of the insured home. Not pavement, not gravel, not hard dirt, but a mixture of grass and soft mud. I think to myself..."this is going to be fun." I bury my head and take off slipping and sliding in the mud the back of my mind questions if the company will ever provide SUVs...since 80% of my drive ways aren't paved.
Three slides, one close call and a S-curve and I come to rest at the lady's house. Mud on my tires, and sides of my car. I am the coolest city kid I know. I take care of her claim, with a smile and nod I get in my car, reve my engine and look forward to a little fun on the half mile mud drive out. This time, in my cocky mindset, I call my adjuster buddy and say..."Hey, I am going muddin in the pimpin Impala, if I don't call you in Ten minutes...I didn't make it." Not thirty seconds after getting off the phone with him, I take a section of the road at a weird angle and slide off, but not completely. I high-lowed it. With the right side hanging off a three foot ditch and the right side dangles on the road. I put my yellow rain coat on and walk to the RV 150 yards down the road. This just happened to be the insured's parents house and he told me if I get stuck to got there.
I wake the poor, hurricane refuge from Gretna (they got demolished) out of his small FEMA trailer. He gets in his two wheel, rear drive truck and trys to get me out. Yeah, you know where I am going with this. 20 minutes later and no movement from my car and one more buddy stuck in the mud.
The man's son calls someone who gets a tractor and pulls us out. I drive in the grass the remaining way out so as to not get stuck again. I now have a hour and half drive home, soaking wet, covered in mud and freezing. It July and I have the heater in my car on. My at one time new car with a nice new color floor board. Well, I don't know if brown mud is a color, but it seems to be everywhere.
I have to say it wasn't a total wash. I was able to do work as I waited for the tractor to pull us out. The people were extremely nice and I felt like the punch line of one of those country songs sung in smoke filled country bars on kareoke night. I thanked the men profusely and hall ass back to the safety and security of the big city...so to speak.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Mocca-Chooca-What the Hella-Lata Grande?
Well, the Cubs lost, again. Yahoo number 73 retained counsel, making my job exponentially harder. And, Youree Drive is turning into the strip mall capital of Louisiana. WoooHooo.
I was driving down the now infamous Youree drive, Shreveport's version of Rodeo Drive, when I noticed, yet another strip mall being built. Peddling the wares of 5 dollar cup of coffee with more syllables in the name than a Russian Novelist. Clothing stores promising the lasts style, for at least the next few weeks. Same style, color, and set up as the fifty others on the street. All of this nonsense can only be called one thing...Trendy.
I think I am one of the few who can remember driving down that street in the late summer and seeing miles and miles of cotton fields, hay bales, and livestock. The sun cresting over the trees as it sets, sending an orange hue over the fields. Southern Sunsets, southern smells, southern comfort. Now the only cotton you see is in the form of $75 designer T shirt, hay is gone because it has bugs, and the only livestock seen is between a bun covered with cheese. All made way so shreveport can be...Trendy.
I once heard that progress would eventually result in Dallas and Shreveport combining. One 2oo mile long city/metropolitan. People everywhere living in the concrete creation. Wow, I can't wait for that (pause for sarcasm to set in...ok). I was in Dallas last weekend and I noticed not an unkempt person around. Blonde Hair, Dark Skin, and Well Maintained. Dallas exists for those searching to be Trendy and Shreveport is falling in line, like the bastard son of East Texas, long to be...Trendy.
I myself am not without guilt. I admit I have succumb to the trendiness. I have convinced myself the $2.11 bottle of water is better than the $1.15...come on bottled water is bottled water. I search out the name brands, latest fashions, and obscure relics that will make me stand out in a positive social light. I find starbuck's coffee to not be as terrible as I first imagined. I am a coporate stooge, with coporate aspirations. I myself am attempting to be...Trendy.
But, I think I will tune it down and try to seek out more unique, special establishments. I will, try, to stay away from big guys, and support the local mom and pops. I will join the grass roots movement to make sure the city I live in has a little personality and doesn't become a carbon copy of Dallas. I will fight the power and not follow the trend, as much as I can. I think I will be satisfied with being...Original.
I was driving down the now infamous Youree drive, Shreveport's version of Rodeo Drive, when I noticed, yet another strip mall being built. Peddling the wares of 5 dollar cup of coffee with more syllables in the name than a Russian Novelist. Clothing stores promising the lasts style, for at least the next few weeks. Same style, color, and set up as the fifty others on the street. All of this nonsense can only be called one thing...Trendy.
I think I am one of the few who can remember driving down that street in the late summer and seeing miles and miles of cotton fields, hay bales, and livestock. The sun cresting over the trees as it sets, sending an orange hue over the fields. Southern Sunsets, southern smells, southern comfort. Now the only cotton you see is in the form of $75 designer T shirt, hay is gone because it has bugs, and the only livestock seen is between a bun covered with cheese. All made way so shreveport can be...Trendy.
I once heard that progress would eventually result in Dallas and Shreveport combining. One 2oo mile long city/metropolitan. People everywhere living in the concrete creation. Wow, I can't wait for that (pause for sarcasm to set in...ok). I was in Dallas last weekend and I noticed not an unkempt person around. Blonde Hair, Dark Skin, and Well Maintained. Dallas exists for those searching to be Trendy and Shreveport is falling in line, like the bastard son of East Texas, long to be...Trendy.
I myself am not without guilt. I admit I have succumb to the trendiness. I have convinced myself the $2.11 bottle of water is better than the $1.15...come on bottled water is bottled water. I search out the name brands, latest fashions, and obscure relics that will make me stand out in a positive social light. I find starbuck's coffee to not be as terrible as I first imagined. I am a coporate stooge, with coporate aspirations. I myself am attempting to be...Trendy.
But, I think I will tune it down and try to seek out more unique, special establishments. I will, try, to stay away from big guys, and support the local mom and pops. I will join the grass roots movement to make sure the city I live in has a little personality and doesn't become a carbon copy of Dallas. I will fight the power and not follow the trend, as much as I can. I think I will be satisfied with being...Original.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Softball Monsters are coming to Town
At this point you must be in a state of shock. You contemplate to yourself, "am I dreaming? Can it really be true? Is this the feeling of euphoria I have missed by not having senseless ramblings to read?" Well, I guarantee nothing of any educational value will follow, but after a much needed hiatus, I have decided to continue my virtual musings.
These past two months have been a blur of music festivals, friends, good times, and work. I have found momentary peace sitting on my couch listening to Jack Johnson and letting the words spew from my mind to this post as a college freshman would empties his stomach from the nights keg party. Caring little for literary eloquence or even a coherent thought, I will write till I fall asleep. So I hope you are in for a good long distraction.
Have you ever realized, after the fact of course, you have gotten yourself into something over your head? My most recent cause for disapproving head nod was agreeing to play softball. A buddy of mine called the other day and asked if I would be interested in playing in a summer softball league. I quickly answer yes as I if I didn't have enough to do with work and all the other extracurriculars I was doing. As he got off the phone with me the only info I new was I had a game on Monday. I also new where it was, but not the field or any other information. At this point I so use to flying by the seat of my pants, I have had to get my mother to sew and patch my britches. But, I stand ready and look forward to the summer sporting.
I show up on Monday night, now knowing that we are suppose wear white t shirts, until we can get jerseys with our names on it (fancy...I know, but hey at some point I have to expect the best). I stumble around the park until I can find the diamond we were on. I frantically look around for a familiar face whilst memories of freshman year enter my head. Fortunately I find a buddy of mine and we start to talk. As we wait for the rest of the crew to show up we causally notice the team we are going to be playing.
Decked out in full baseball apparel, from authentic team named jerseys to those tight baseball pants, the feeling of "Oh Crap" comes over me as I look them over. Everyone matches, all have batting gloves, baseball cleats, and freshly oiled gloves. The rest of our team shoes up and I compare them to us. Half of us are wearing soccer cleats, wearing old fraternity shirts, and trying to decide which side of the one bat we have is the side to hold. At that point I knew we were in for some embarrassment. I wish I could say I was wrong, but that just wouldn't be our style.
With little to no warm up, we amble onto the field, me playing the catcher. As I am the third oldest person on my team, I feel my knees twinge with pain as I assume the crouched position. My fancy new knee brace creaks as my knee bends. The fat man in blue standing behind me, makes judgmental comments about our team...he made almost enough to get a piece of my mind, and not the good piece I reserve for family and friends. However, I manage to stifle my comments and hold my mouth shut. The first pitch is thrown...Illegal pitch, whatever that is. The next 13 pitches all balls. this has pretty much loaded the bases. Then the hitting begins. I managed to some how knock some guy in the face with my elbow. He stares me down...I laugh...he looks harder...I laugh harder...he walks away. That's my kind of confrentation, you know, the one that ends up in me not getting beat up. We struggle through the top of the first inning and get three outs with only a score of 12 to 0. Not our finest moment. However, the two fans there for us decided to make us feel better by pointing out the team next to us was losing 19 to 1...so here is to bright sides and them being our Mississippi (you know the one state/team/person who is always worse than you...thank MS).
We fight through the next few innings trying to get runs in...alas we score a unaffective six to there total 15. Not enough to win, and just short of getting made fun of forever. At the end of the game there was mention of maybe getting together to practice. An idea that was quickly shot down for a better one of just sneaking beer in before the games. Now that's a strategy I can agree with.
Tomorrow night is our second game. I am anticipating better play and more comfortable cohesion. But, I will keep you posted.
I am too tired to finish, in fact I am not even going to check this to see if it makes sense. I am just going to go to bed. But, I will try to keep more stuff on here and Keep you guys entertained...if I can. But, for now, I can hear my bed calling my name. Peace out.
These past two months have been a blur of music festivals, friends, good times, and work. I have found momentary peace sitting on my couch listening to Jack Johnson and letting the words spew from my mind to this post as a college freshman would empties his stomach from the nights keg party. Caring little for literary eloquence or even a coherent thought, I will write till I fall asleep. So I hope you are in for a good long distraction.
Have you ever realized, after the fact of course, you have gotten yourself into something over your head? My most recent cause for disapproving head nod was agreeing to play softball. A buddy of mine called the other day and asked if I would be interested in playing in a summer softball league. I quickly answer yes as I if I didn't have enough to do with work and all the other extracurriculars I was doing. As he got off the phone with me the only info I new was I had a game on Monday. I also new where it was, but not the field or any other information. At this point I so use to flying by the seat of my pants, I have had to get my mother to sew and patch my britches. But, I stand ready and look forward to the summer sporting.
I show up on Monday night, now knowing that we are suppose wear white t shirts, until we can get jerseys with our names on it (fancy...I know, but hey at some point I have to expect the best). I stumble around the park until I can find the diamond we were on. I frantically look around for a familiar face whilst memories of freshman year enter my head. Fortunately I find a buddy of mine and we start to talk. As we wait for the rest of the crew to show up we causally notice the team we are going to be playing.
Decked out in full baseball apparel, from authentic team named jerseys to those tight baseball pants, the feeling of "Oh Crap" comes over me as I look them over. Everyone matches, all have batting gloves, baseball cleats, and freshly oiled gloves. The rest of our team shoes up and I compare them to us. Half of us are wearing soccer cleats, wearing old fraternity shirts, and trying to decide which side of the one bat we have is the side to hold. At that point I knew we were in for some embarrassment. I wish I could say I was wrong, but that just wouldn't be our style.
With little to no warm up, we amble onto the field, me playing the catcher. As I am the third oldest person on my team, I feel my knees twinge with pain as I assume the crouched position. My fancy new knee brace creaks as my knee bends. The fat man in blue standing behind me, makes judgmental comments about our team...he made almost enough to get a piece of my mind, and not the good piece I reserve for family and friends. However, I manage to stifle my comments and hold my mouth shut. The first pitch is thrown...Illegal pitch, whatever that is. The next 13 pitches all balls. this has pretty much loaded the bases. Then the hitting begins. I managed to some how knock some guy in the face with my elbow. He stares me down...I laugh...he looks harder...I laugh harder...he walks away. That's my kind of confrentation, you know, the one that ends up in me not getting beat up. We struggle through the top of the first inning and get three outs with only a score of 12 to 0. Not our finest moment. However, the two fans there for us decided to make us feel better by pointing out the team next to us was losing 19 to 1...so here is to bright sides and them being our Mississippi (you know the one state/team/person who is always worse than you...thank MS).
We fight through the next few innings trying to get runs in...alas we score a unaffective six to there total 15. Not enough to win, and just short of getting made fun of forever. At the end of the game there was mention of maybe getting together to practice. An idea that was quickly shot down for a better one of just sneaking beer in before the games. Now that's a strategy I can agree with.
Tomorrow night is our second game. I am anticipating better play and more comfortable cohesion. But, I will keep you posted.
I am too tired to finish, in fact I am not even going to check this to see if it makes sense. I am just going to go to bed. But, I will try to keep more stuff on here and Keep you guys entertained...if I can. But, for now, I can hear my bed calling my name. Peace out.
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