People in places...

Maybe that could be a Wheel of Fortune category, maybe it already is. I got told the other day at work that the Thank you email I sent out was too wordy. To wordy you say, I thought about that. I wrote it down, I thought about it some more. I felt it was constructive criticism, as was so carefully stated in the email, along with a great compliment at the end. Someone has been reading their manager manual. Yet, there is something larger about that concept that has bothered me. It's not because I don't use the phrase myself. I have previously used it here to describe mine and other people’s writings. The fact that it is a business letter, it maybe does make sense. They are attempting to keep the document more professional. Don’t let your guard down; don’t open up too directly with your clients. Don’t write like you talk, keep it professional. I’ve heard it all before. There is feeling that causes restraint of the mind in this context. This is the great thing about blogs. There is no restraint. You can write what you want and how you want to write it. You can say what you feel. You might pay the price of putting out on the line, but it’s your chance too. No criticisms, just free roam. People will then take the time to click on your page, read your thoughts and then they can do as they please. Therein lays the question of why are we here. What causes people to come to his or her blogs to write and to also go to others blogs to read? It is the pull to express ones potential of freedom and the principal of opening up your thoughts, mind and feelings.
So let us get on to this wordy discussion. I always ponder what makes people stay where they do. What makes people commit to a certain area? What makes them center their self in that location? These are questions I have no answer, yet that is. I will give us examples of people intertwined into their atmosphere. I'll give you case 1: Big One staying in Oxford.
Big One and Little One had been enjoying the evening events of the college town. It had involved quite a few cocktails at one of the many waterholes so carefully placed throughout the square of Oxford. After making sure the bartenders weren't serving any more these two determined individuals continued their dream of total intoxication to a common event known as a late night. These so cleverly named events award you the opportunity of continuing to wet your whistle at late event beyond the hours of operation of the pub. After a few more hours, pushing their watches into times only used for hunters and night shift workers, the Ones are perplexed to their need for nicotine. As they begin the roll up to the late am service station, the vehicle of choice would sputter using their last fumes of gas. This occurring at roughly a 75% incline of a hill. They were able to get the mass of metal to remain braked at close to the center of this hill. Now getting the hollowed out jeep to the side of the road would be another adventure all in itself. They request the assistance of a 350 lb fellow friend, which was called out from his deep slumber. He helps push the vehicle up the incline to the side, not with Big One, nope, with Little One, all 75 lbs of him. Good thing the friend didn't let go, the story would end here. Yet the story continues with Little One sent after the gas. Big One gives Little One 5 dollars with specific instructions as follows:
"Get 1.88 in gas, a Mountain Dew and a pack cigarettes" Yes you guess it, this was exactly 5 dollars. Taking that he knew this exact total meant that this wasn't his first adventure with only getting 1.88 in gas, maybe why he was running so low. Anywho, the story then goes with Little One's question "What do I put the gas in" Big One quick on his feet replies "Just borrow a can from the gas station" Heaven forbid you skip on the MD or cigs.
We move forward with the return of Little One. Big One and friend still remain in car. Little One lights a cig, good investment and begins to put gas into truck. Little One tells Big One that he is done. Big One turns the key over, no start, tries again, still no start. Big One gets out in a whisk to see what the hell the problem is. He then notices that Little One had not poured the gas in the truck, OH NO, yet down the side of the truck and all onto the ground. Now sitting broke, out of gas and nothing but a half MD and pack of cigs minus 2. All in all, the truck is stranded there, friend is now disgusted and proceeds to let them know that they now have only the option of returning with him and that is it. You can't make this up.
I don't recall how long the truck set there. I do recall this was either not the first time or the last these two adventures ran out of gas on this same hill. I guess it hard to keep 1.88 in gas flowing through the pipes. Luckily, some years later, these late nights don't happen, well not at the bottom of that hill anyway. Good thing, guess it tough to pour gas on an incline.