It is important to be yourself, but, more important to be yourself proudly.

Friday, April 27, 2012

The Fair

     Call me sentimental.
     Call me insane.
     The fair is magic.

     Yup.  Magic.

     OK, I'm not a stark-raving looney(kind of).  It's just that the fair is different from the rest of the year.  It doesn't take place in "normal-time", it takes place in the same weird, alternate-reality that houses Halloween.  That place where kids have freedom to just run around, junk food is not just allowed, but mandatory and enemies declare(temporary) truces.
     For one weekend of the year, every year, everyone is friends.  For the parents - there's nostalgia, for the kids - a world of light and wonder, the teens get a chance to live in a place of their own, a domain that is solely based on their decisions.  It's sort of like real-life, except someone else is paying your bills for you and there's no mortgage.  The really neat part is that the normal rules of engagement don't seem to apply in this other-world.
     Under the stars, gaudy lights and too-loud sounds of the music, games and crowds, everyone is equal.  You can be a kid.  You can run around, tell stupid jokes, and basically act four or six or eight as a middle-schooler or high-schooler.  Balloon-animals, "sword fights", ice cream, tag, hide-and-go-seek-tag*.  Parents lose a lot of the "serious, parental attitudes" and laughter is everywhere.  Seriously. 

I'm not making this up.

      We live in a fairly average sized city and that part which we inhabit is fairly small.  Don't get me wrong, this isn't some small-town, my high school has enough humans for the Census Bureau to gain us the title of "Small Town"






































 Anyway, when you're my age, the people at the fair are the people you've spent your whole life with(although you may not know them super-well).  You pass these people on your bike, that group you've known since pre-school, those guys are your buds and you've been saying, "Hey" to that person at the baseball field since before your brother stopped using a tee.
     So, in order to break grudges, break normalcy and basically break the whole fair down to one component, I have come to the conclusion that the fair is magic.  It's not perfect, but it's not perfect in the most perfect way possible.  You know Sandlot?  The fair is a lot like the Fourth of July in Sandlot, minus the fireworks.  It feels like something is going to happen, something unusual.  The anticipation and possibility mix with the sickly-sweet cotton-candy and adrenaline from the Gravitron**.
     I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting weekend.
 -AG

 *like tag, only hide-ier and seek-ier.  And cooler, that too.
**I'm still too chicken for this ride.  Oh so very chicken.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Love vs. Money

Being loved is a lot like receiving a savings account, they're both gifts that keep giving. And, hopefully, give more as time progresses. Also - every time *you* give more, you get more back. One main difference is, you are able to take all your money out of the account and you can't do that with love. But, the most important difference? When the economy goes to Hades and work is hard to find, while your savings account withers and dies, *true* love is a refuge - it is a safe place, that, even in the worst economic climate - still gives.