I’m in a race that I don’t care about on Saturday. It’s a rock’n’roll 1/2 marathon that my employer pushed on us in an eager fashion. I was called a “sheeple” by one of my coworkers. That is a bit demeaning to me, though I know he was half-joking. Not as if I’d take it poorly; I can take a joke or cut pretty well.
If only he knew me better. Seen my home’s magnificent landscaping haha. Or actually know of the random bunch of woowoo stuff that I read and listen to. Or have seen me in my truck bed on the side road, during lunch break, practicing yoga and eating a watermelon with a spoon. Or know about my hunger to live with stoic and minimalist actions woven in with particular extravagance.
Yet I don’t care. I refuse to be a sheep most of the time. I’m only trying to look the part of fitting in with the small business “family”. I am aware that those are sheeple tendencies. And I refuse to keep that habit from forming in the same way that I go barefoot as much as possible. I can’t maintain self respect without keeping my uniqueness intact.
The expo was kinda fun. But only cause I got to spend time with my sister [and her friend]. Otherwise, I would rather have been doing almost anything else.
They picked me up from work to go to the expo (for pre-race post-registration). We then walked around and I avoided all those sales pitches from vendors. Got my race t-shirt and bib sticker. Then we met Mom and my nephew at Fatz, where i stuffed nine or so delicious dinner rolls into my face and a half-pound hamburger.
Afterwards, we picked up my truck and caravanned over to mom & dad’s house. We played a game of hand&foot. My nephew and I beat the snot outa Mom and my sister’s friend. “We lasted 3 days without playing cards this trip, that’s a record!”, said my nephew. I love that we play cards when they come down. I enjoy it always, even when losing. Hard to beat those times.