Campfyre Stories

The bus stopped and about 10 people got on.  When the doors closed, the smell of BO was extreme, like I had never smelled before.  It was also close.  So close, that I was able to pinpoint it to (of course) the guy sitting in front of me.

But there are some things that you just have to deal with.  I mean, really, what can you say to extreme BO on a crowded bus?  "Excuse me, sir, but you smell horrible."?  All that’s going to do is make him feel bad and me feel guilty for having said something to him when he really couldn’t do anything about it.

About 10 minutes passed until someone else mentioned this horrible smell that I had been suffering through, but it was not the sort of comment I expected to hear.  The girl behind me said to her friend, "You smell that?  Yum.  I smell McDonald’s.  I could go for some McDonald’s right now."

And sure enough, that wretched smell was not BO from the guy in front of me, it was from the hamburger he was eating.  I could not have been more surprised if someone had said "Mmm, BO, I want to lick me some of that armpit."

All week long, I’ve been a day ahead of reality.  It’s a shame because it means that the week will feel that much longer.  I don’t think that I’m the only one, either, since people have been calling in sick or taking vacation days or "working from home".

I also can’t seem to figure out how people can say early on Thursday morning "Only one day left."  By my count it’s actually 2 - today and tomorrow.  I’m not sure if, for some people, Friday just doesn’t count, or if (as one person put it) Thursday doesn’t count because "we’re already here".  I can’t reconcile it in my head, anyway.

To make matters even worse, I decided to throw a last minute "School’s out for summer" party for Spawn.  I bought an ice cream cake and invited a handful of people over.  Surely this is more of a Friday kind of celebration, but instead his last day is a Thursday…  why make him wait?

Anyway, consider this a plea.  Someone out there needs to figure out a way that we can skip Friday morning and afternoon and just go straight to the weekend.  Someone MUST know how to accomplish this

I’m not entirely sure when kids stopped being allowed to be kids and to do the things that kids traditionally do, but somewhere along the line Society decided that children should not be allowed to experiment and should be punished in ways more appropriate to adults.

I remember when "sexual harassment" became a buzzword and a media blitz.  it was hard on a lot of people trying to figure out where that line is drawn, especially since, in the early days, it was something that was considered as a power play between a superior and their employee.  Having been on the receiving end of sexual harassment (from a peer), I understand that it can make your work life hell and cause problems with getting your work done, but I don’t think that sexual harassment should be the catch-all word that it’s become.

Spawn told me last week that one of his friends was suspended for sexual harassment at school.  The kid is 12 years old.  Now I know that there are some people out there who will say "Well he’s old enough to know better", but really, I can’t help but fault the girl(s) as well.

The story as I know it is that at least 2 of Spawn’s friends were playing Truth or Dare with an unknown number of girls.  That’s enough of a story for me.  I don’t need to know what the Dares were or what Truths were asked.  Frankly, I played enough of it when I was younger that my imagination can surely do that job.  I ran around with some pretty sexual kids at that age and earlier and I also know that things never went farther than the participants were comfortable.  Here’s my problem, why didn’t the girls leave?  If they were uncomfortable, what made them stay and continue to play?  I know that these boys didn’t force them to play, or to stick around.

But I’m not blaming the girls for the situation, please understand that.  I’m blaming Society’s overreactions to such things for the punishment the boys are now enduring.  I’m blaming Society’s overreactions for setting things up to turn these girls into future victims.  These 12 (+ or -) y/o girls need to learn to say NO when they are in a situation that makes them uncomfortable.  They need to learn how and when it’s time to leave.  The LAST thing they need to learn is to go with the flow in the moment and tell somebody later.  This line of behavior seems to me like the sort of thing that could easily lead to false date rape allegations.  How soon before we see a case that sets a precedent that the victim doesn’t have to say no or stop or in any way indicate that she is an unwilling participant.  And honestly, if that happened, it wouldn’t entirely be their fault because Society is teaching them that this is an appropriate way to behave.

Don’t get me wrong, if a (pre) pubescent kid exposes himself to girls on the playground, he should be taught that that is unacceptable, but if a group of children choose to play a sexually-charged game, it is not ok for half of them to be singled out for deviant behavior.  Because it’s not deviant behavior, but they’re being taught that it is.

We start off playing doctor.  "I’ll show you mine if you show me yours."  We graduate to Spin the Bottle, or Truth or Dare, or 7 Minutes in Heaven.  These games are not bad or wrong or deviant.  They are part of the fundamental experimentation that kids do.  Or used to do.  Yes, I know, it’s not appropriate to play these games at school, but the boys alone are not to blame here.

What are we teaching our children?  That boys are bad, naughty, dirty sex maniacs?  That girls are sweet and always right and not to be touched?  This is a dangerous game that Society is playing with our children.  They need to learn boundaries, not only those of others, but those of themselves.  Girls, especially, need to learn how and when to extract themselves from uncomfortable situations, because there will be more as they get older and, probably, no authority figure around to tattle to.

When did things change so much that kids aren’t even allowed to be kids without having to take on a burden of responsibility they haven’t yet been taught?

I answered the phone.

Him: Hi, may I please speak to Fyre?

Me: This is she.

Him: Hi, Fyre, my name is…

and his phone hung up.

So I tried to call back, but “The number you have reached has been disconnected or is out of service.”

I think someone lost their phone (and apparently ran out of minutes before I got the guy’s name), but I don’t know whose number that was. I think I’ve seen it before, but…

Oh well.

Lately I’ve been having conversations that would have made good blog posts.  I even start the conversation thinking "Well, maybe I’ll explore this idea with so-and-so and flesh it out" only to discover that as soon as the conversation is over I’m either sated by the conversation or I’ve lost interest in the topic.

I keep thinking about Father’s Day and wanting to write about my dad, but I just haven’t been able to do it yet.  I’m not sure when I will…  probably when it gets to a point where the words are burning to get out.

Something happened to a close friend of mine on Friday that brought me back to Dad’s death, but it’s not my story to tell.  Tied in closely with the event itself was a small thing that brought comfort to me in a cosmic kind of way and also allowed me to share that comfort with my friend, who needed to hear it.  Again, it’s not my story.

Since my niece’s birthday is Christmas Day, she doesn’t really get a birthday.  As a result, my mom decided to hold a half-birthday party for her and piggy-back a welcome summer party on it.  It was exhausting.  However nice it is to see people that you haven’t seen in many years, standing out in the hot sun for hours on end with small children to start the whole party takes a LOT out of you.

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As women know and men suspect, the ladies’ bathroom can be a very social place. Women frequently will take their private or gossipy conversations to the restroom, away from prying ears. Apparently, this is not always a smart plan.

My desk at work is just outside of the bathrooms. This afternoon, I could hear women talking, but wasn’t paying attention to *what* they were saying (to my later chagrin).

After a few minutes a guy came around from the other side of the floor and banged on the door.

It got very quiet in there.

30 seconds later, he knocked again… and after no response again after another 30 seconds. Still no response, so he pushed the door ajar and shouted “I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT THE WHOLE FLOOR CAN HEAR YOU.” Apparently the walls are even thinner on that side of the restroom. (This is the point where I would have liked to know what, exactly, they were saying. The folks on the other side were horrified and/or fascinated by the discussion.)

As you can imagine, the ladies were mortified that their private conversation had been heard by most, if not all, of their co-workers. The first one waited a good 10 minutes before emerging. The second one took an alternate route, but I (probably among other nosy folks) made note of who it was.

Heh. Lesson learned - no private conversations in the bathroom at work.

Not that it’s an issue for me anyway. I always assume that all public restrooms are bugged anyway.

Paranoia FTW!

So I came into work yesterday to 4 voice mail messages, which is unusual, because I rarely get phone calls.  Every one was a fax machine.  You know, the screaming, high-pitched tone?

I deleted them, but over the course of the day a few (5?) more calls came in, also from the fax machine.

Today it got bad.  No fewer than 8-10 calls from the fax machines, once from 2 different machines on both of my lines!

So I took down the numbers and the partial listing of the company name and went online.  Amazingly enough, I was able to find the company that was sending me the faxes, so I got the number and called them.

The operator told me "Well, unless you can tell me the name of the person who is sending the fax, I can’t help you.  We’re a very large company."  WHAT?  All I have are fax numbers and you’re refusing to help me because my PHONE won’t show me the name on the cover sheet?  You’re kidding.

Well she doesn’t recognize the fax numbers, so she can’t help, but it might be this department…  let me transfer you - TO A VOICE MAIL of some guy who might not even be the culprit.

And the moment I got off the phone?  Fax machines were calling again.

So I sent an email to the generic information address that was provided.  I still don’t have a name, but maybe, just maybe they’ll DO SOMETHING to stop them from sending me tens of faxes a day…  to a phone that can’t receive them.

First was Joan.  A little background, though.  I’m sure that very few people reading this even know who Joan Armatrading is, but she’s one of my musical idols.  She’s a singer/songwriter/guitarist who had a couple of hits in the 70’s.  Though she’s relatively little known, she paved the way for other female singer/songwriter/guitarists.  My neighbor put it well, "Without Joan there would be no Tracy Chapman, no Sheryl Crow, no Ani DiFranco, no Paula Cole… "

I had never seen her in concert, so I was looking forward to it.  I’ve always been so impressed with her lyrics and pleased that her guitar playing, while unconventional, was not phenomenal.  The reality of the concert, unfortunately, was disappointing. 

There was no connection with the audience.  And I’m not just talking about a lack of talking to the crowd.  Good performers can make that connection whether they’re taking directly or not.  There’s a way in which you encourage the crowd to respond and a way that you can/should feed off of their energy and let them feed off of you.  There was an almost complete lack of that.  She was detached and cold.  She seemed to hide behind her guitar and behind her hair.  It was like watching television, with some invisible screen between her, her band and the audience.

I will say that it was nice to have had the experience and I had a wonderful time with my mom (I took her as a Mother’s Day gift) and I was pleasantly surprised to see/hear how much Joan’s guitar playing had improved, but I’ve been to so many concerts over the years and seen so many great performances that this was just a let-down.

Next was Al.  Spawn spent much of the week complaining that he would rather be going to a rock concert, but I have heard nothing but good things about Weird Al in concert.  Let me just say, this one well surpassed my expectations.

The show started really late and the crowd was getting restless.  People tried to start a chant or clapping, but crowds don’t seem to understand how to really do that anymore, so it was failed attempt after failed attempt.  However, I was able to convey to Spawn how and why it wasn’t quite working out.  He picked up on it right away and we became observers of the crowd.

When the show actually started, it made up for the lateness.  There was a screen above the stage that showed clips of Al TV ("interviews" of musicians created from out-of-context pieces of real interviews) as well as parody clips and every now and again a piece from a music video.  This allowed him (and his band!) to make their costume changes between songs without losing the audience at all.  I was especially impressed with the fact that the entire band was costumed appropriately and often played in character.

The show attracted all types, and I mean ALL types.  Every niche, every clique, every age group was represented, and I think it’s because Weird Al parodies every genre of music and so, appeals to everyone.  The went out into the crowd, serenading audience members and engaged the audience without really ever talking (beyond "Hello, Albany!)  This was truly an example of how to do it.

If you’ve never seen him, or even if you have, I HIGHLY recommend catching him in concert the next time he’s in your area.  No matter who you are.

The rest of the weekend was mostly quiet.  Whatever plans I had all fell through (to my extreme relief).  I spent most of Saturday sitting on my stoop chatting with neighbors.  It turns out that my little cat knows everyone in the neighborhood.  He sits in the window and people stop and talk to him.  I had no idea that my cat was so popular - and only the one, but people I met would say "Oh, you have the beautiful cat.  I know him, we chat from time to time."  Uh…  ok…  how very odd.  He’s not even all that nice a cat.  He’s the one who’s so cute and pretty that you can’t help but want to pet him, but he’ll rip your face off.  I guess the screen is an effective enough barrier - people can’t pet him, he can’t attack, so they just chat and make nice.

But I have some very nice neighbors, and friendly ones at that.  Now that it’s warm out, everyone is emerging and mostly friendly.

And then I died.  Or as close as you can get without actually dying.  Watched some Netflix movies and, on Sunday, slept so ridiculously late that I’m too embarrassed to tell you what time I finally got up out of bed.  I’m ready, though, for a few weeks of a lessened schedule.