There's a Bathroom on the right
May. 31st, 2005 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
learnteachI am frustrated and grumpy. The Fighter Finishing school became Dance Camp Extra for me, and I feel like lumpy crap, and my recent social things...
Went to fighter finishing school. Yay. Two days in the beautiful forest, working on fighting. Friday night indulged in teaching people slowwork basics. Saturday, checked with DPoB, and was told to go dance, since I was the only male who didn't need to be in the fighter training class.
Well, OK, I'll be nice and do as suggested.
8 hours a day of dance class from a good Scottish Country Teacher teaching Scottish and English Country. Eight hours of being the only male in the class, and doing dances I'd either never seen before, or seen 20 years ago, or knew well but were done completely differently. 8 hours a day of being told to be quiet; there's only one teacher (who never gets anything wrong.) 8 hours of nursemaiding my partners, no, I lie, only about three hours of nursemaid. Eight hours of having my style critiqued and corrected.
All within sight and sound of the fighting.
Then came the moment: Sunday afternoon the fighters joined us. All of a sudden, too many men, so I had to dance as a woman to even the numbers. And what happened? We did Bransle official and knocked three people off the floor (I was already off.) Oh, except for the moment where I lost it, stomped in a short circle muttering (swearing) after trying to lead the most timid dancer through a figure, was stopped from giving her a correction, and looked up into the camera.
It's a good event idea, but the gentle instruction turns into not so gentle rants about talking in court and partying too loud for sleep and the impossibility of getting a camp on the fighting field even if you get up at 6 AM.
Honestly, everyone worked hard, and put out effort. But next time I'm going to make sure to get SOME fighting in; next time if ever. There was a lot of good things, but too much dancing.
Then I drove home, played with cats on the way, looked at the sad tomatoes, tidied up a little, went over to my Mom's. I'd loaned her the Hallowed Hunt, and sat down to reread it. She was having a Barbeque, and Ted was there. I was told 3 times within my arrival plus 15 minutes that he was waiting in the pool to play with me. I say again: I'm not his toy nor babysitter; someone else can amuse him once in a while. ***read the book. Didn't converse much; Mom's friends were'nt interesting and I wasn't feeling very public, and I wanted to finish the book and loan it to my brother, who will be travelling soon.***
Got dressed down by my Mom for being anti-social to her friends at her social affair, and that I shouldn't come to things unless I'm prepared to be social. I did engage my brother in conversation, and helped out with the corn (but not the burgers, which she wanted me to do, and sister stepped up for.) I also apparently have to get over this "huge chip on your shoulder" about being the nephewtoy; she didn't remember telling me repeatedly that he was waiting for me. Nope. Doesn't matter, I'm overreacting or something.
I can see the logic in her arguement, yes, but after months of helping her out on things, to be slapped when I'm trying to finish a book because she wants to impress her guests is a bit much.
Just fuck it, I'm in a bad mood. Steer clear, you have been warned. fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Oh, and when am I going to find a girlfriend to marry? That's been a recent topic of interest. Be nice if I got a job, too, stopped wasting my life, I have so much promise.
I'm going to drink a large glass of water and go to bed.
Went to fighter finishing school. Yay. Two days in the beautiful forest, working on fighting. Friday night indulged in teaching people slowwork basics. Saturday, checked with DPoB, and was told to go dance, since I was the only male who didn't need to be in the fighter training class.
Well, OK, I'll be nice and do as suggested.
8 hours a day of dance class from a good Scottish Country Teacher teaching Scottish and English Country. Eight hours of being the only male in the class, and doing dances I'd either never seen before, or seen 20 years ago, or knew well but were done completely differently. 8 hours a day of being told to be quiet; there's only one teacher (who never gets anything wrong.) 8 hours of nursemaiding my partners, no, I lie, only about three hours of nursemaid. Eight hours of having my style critiqued and corrected.
All within sight and sound of the fighting.
Then came the moment: Sunday afternoon the fighters joined us. All of a sudden, too many men, so I had to dance as a woman to even the numbers. And what happened? We did Bransle official and knocked three people off the floor (I was already off.) Oh, except for the moment where I lost it, stomped in a short circle muttering (swearing) after trying to lead the most timid dancer through a figure, was stopped from giving her a correction, and looked up into the camera.
It's a good event idea, but the gentle instruction turns into not so gentle rants about talking in court and partying too loud for sleep and the impossibility of getting a camp on the fighting field even if you get up at 6 AM.
Honestly, everyone worked hard, and put out effort. But next time I'm going to make sure to get SOME fighting in; next time if ever. There was a lot of good things, but too much dancing.
Then I drove home, played with cats on the way, looked at the sad tomatoes, tidied up a little, went over to my Mom's. I'd loaned her the Hallowed Hunt, and sat down to reread it. She was having a Barbeque, and Ted was there. I was told 3 times within my arrival plus 15 minutes that he was waiting in the pool to play with me. I say again: I'm not his toy nor babysitter; someone else can amuse him once in a while. ***read the book. Didn't converse much; Mom's friends were'nt interesting and I wasn't feeling very public, and I wanted to finish the book and loan it to my brother, who will be travelling soon.***
Got dressed down by my Mom for being anti-social to her friends at her social affair, and that I shouldn't come to things unless I'm prepared to be social. I did engage my brother in conversation, and helped out with the corn (but not the burgers, which she wanted me to do, and sister stepped up for.) I also apparently have to get over this "huge chip on your shoulder" about being the nephewtoy; she didn't remember telling me repeatedly that he was waiting for me. Nope. Doesn't matter, I'm overreacting or something.
I can see the logic in her arguement, yes, but after months of helping her out on things, to be slapped when I'm trying to finish a book because she wants to impress her guests is a bit much.
Just fuck it, I'm in a bad mood. Steer clear, you have been warned. fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Oh, and when am I going to find a girlfriend to marry? That's been a recent topic of interest. Be nice if I got a job, too, stopped wasting my life, I have so much promise.
I'm going to drink a large glass of water and go to bed.
