Update # 7

One of my favourite pieces of music is Mozart's Clarinet Quintet. (Coming in a close second to the song called 'I spell some words like I am from the UK. Deal with it')
Most widely known as what Major Charles Emerson Winchester III taught his Korean POW's to play on the last episode of MASH.
I used to watch MASH with my Mom almost every day. It's a good memory. I like the show a lot. Not many people fess up to that.
But seeing as how I am the most emotional-sentimental person in my little world, I am not ashamed.
I was listening to it play in my head this morning as I woke up from a very restless sleep. I don't know whay it was in there. But in there it was. No matter how hard I tried to get it out with a few verses of Rick Springfield's 'Jessie's Girl'
The Springfield always gets songs out of your head. He's like the pickled ginger you use to cleans your pallet between bites of sushi. If your mind were your pallet, and you tended to speak in metaphor. Of course, I don't do that. I am simple and clear in anything I write. So there.
Today he didn't work.
And he always works. Every time. Like Colt 45.
So today is the day that Rick Springfield betrayed me.
July 17th.
Remember it well, as he will betray you too.
It isn't like I'm clawing at my head to get the Mozart out. I like it. But it also for some reason reminds me of how much I missed my Mom when I was a pre-teen living in Carmel Indiana.
I wasn't very happy then. And I keep wondering why exactly that is. I'm toiling with a lot of stuff right now that should take precedence over my general mood when i was ten years old till about 16. After sixteen, i had reached an agreement with myself that it was alright to live my life as I saw fit, even though I may not have been in the exact locale I thought was a perfect fit for me.
It may all boil down to a very protective instinct I have for my mom. I moved, and she was alone. she needed me to help out around the house. There are other things, like my Dad not showing me very much affection when I lived with him, but that is stuff for another posting. (we are fine now, my dad and I)
Last night, I felt like I needed to protect. It was a strange feeling, not because I don't feel that way all the time. i would punch a bear, I'd like to think, if it were trying to eat my friends. Last night, I felt a need to protect myself. There's the rub. That shit is out of place, and very rarely happens.

The tricky thing about writing anything is that it rarely happens when you want it to. The writing, I mean. I can hope to produce a mountain of things both interesting and poignant, but more often than not, i stare at the screen and wish I were better at sports or building Model trains or baking or doing anything but writing.

My schedule is very open, yet I always seem to have things to do.
This is why a lot of the things I write here sometimes take a week to post.
There are always adventures I need to have with various so and so's. Believe me, I'd rather be on an adventure than writing a mish mash of sad mopey bits.
This one, of course is no different.
My adventures yesterday prevented me from finishing up this blog, and now I don't really feel the same way as I did. I still feel like protecting myself from whatever inevitable fall i have built up in my head to be the end all climax to whatever whatever... I just have a vivid imagination that wreaks havoc on me. I make mountains out of mole hills and really need to take a breath every once in a while, count to ten and keep moving on.
But if drama doesn't show itself, then I have to manufacture it.
Just one of the many things we here at Andy Brynildson are attempting to improve upon so you can better enjoy me.

Yesterday i went with Lindsay and Snarky Andrew to various places that included an arcade/gamey fun place called 'great times' I found myself in a batting cage for the first time in my life. (I hit one that was very good. The rest resembled all those years in little league that I never participated in)
we won tickets for skee ball, and won dinosaurs and friendship rings and little parachute men.
When we tried to find an ice cream store to calm our racing adrenaline, we ended up finding a wine bar. The only logical 'next best thing'
One bottle of Cab, a plate of meat/cheese/crackers and a bottle of Port later: We decided that it had been the best day up this point.
I saw the house that Andrew owns and fell in love with it. I have a friend who is looking at rentals, you see. It's in the shady part of town, but aside from it being perfect, it is perfect.
Where do you go when your day is going so well?
Hogwarts, of course.
Harry Potter and the prisoner of deathly secret goblets and half blood sorcerers phoenix should only be seen in a drive-in.
As a matter of fact, all movies should be seen in a Drive-in.
And in that drive-in should be your be your best friends.
And more port wine.

All in all, things have been going pretty well. Always room for improvement on all fronts. But if I had to make a list of good things and bad things, there would be like three things on the bad side and a thousand on the good.
things are looking up. (He said, as the other shoe dropped)
Not going so well for the book I'm supposed to be working on. I am pathetically low on finished pages, and am still looking for my muse to inspire me to greatness.
I do have a hot date with a symphony on Tuesday, so maybe I'll get some inspiration there.


More soon.

Stay Awesome

Andy