|Merry Madmen Part Tres|
September 23, 2005
Satan, the Ogre, RHR & myself have once again made our annual trek to the Celtic Classic in Bethlehem, PA. We'll be working in the beer tent tomorrow evening and Sunday afternoon, but tonight we are taking it easy by eating some, drinking more than a little, and listening to a lot of Celtic music. It's a nice relaxing evening on a still-soft autumn night and I'm letting my thoughts drift rather than hold fast to some hard fast course.
I'm feeling a little melancholy at the moment. It might be the bittersweet love song being played by the band currently onstage. I think that is only part of it - or perhaps the catalyst for my feelings. It seems like an old familiar ache that has never been truly satisfied. I enjoy my time with my buddies, and we have a blast. However, they aren't generally the ones I would share my hopes and dreams with. I'm back to missing my unknown - if existing at all - better half. I'm missing the opportunity to truly share things with someone truly dear to me. I guess the all too common sensation of being incomplete in some fashion is once again making itself known.
A comment recently made to me has been pacing back and forth in my mind and been joined by memes from random songs and events from the past few days. I was told to quit being selfish and take better care of myself for those that care about me. Watching Maxx the past few days, I thought how sad it was to watch him slowly waste away and I was hit with the realization that I was doing the same to my friends and family. In his own way, Satan said that part of my problem is that I think I could disappear and no one would care. Lastly, I keep hearing songs - country and otherwise - that carry the idea that the important thing in life is not so much what you take from it but what you leave behind. It's the lives that you touch that tell the worth of your life -- and by that count, I've touched some very dear people indeed. It may be not as great a life as I might have once wanted but it is not as bad as I might think. I've been lucky enough to survive my own misfocused sight and I still have time to right many of my mistakes.