Or perhaps that is what they want of me. Prostitutes and strippers and booze galore.
Hey, it’s my bachelor party. Or event. Or excursion to Joshua Tree. And if we’re talkin’ semantics (sort of like Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues, from this wonderful album) then it should be called, quite simply, a camping trip. And it was. But strippers ain’t my thing.
That’s not me. No sir.
I’m the guy who likes to sit and talk about Aristotle. I don’t want to play beer pong.
I want to hear about what’s going on in your life. I don’t want to mingle with strangers.
And I certainly don’t need to eat meat to feel like a man. 😉
I like peace and quiet, crossword puzzles, bookish explorations on weekend evenings.
I like to challenge myself, and you, mentally, philosophically, emotionally.
I want to live my life to the fullest, certainly. But fullest in the sense that I desire to be productive, to be mindful, to waste not of the time I have (the only time we have) and to emphasize those facets wholly and wholeheartedly.
You see, I know what I want, I know who I am, what I like. Granted, these things may change over time. But as I understand it now- as it is gleaned and implemented- I know how I want to live my life. Strippers, prostitutes (should be legal, by the way) and copious amounts of booze ain’t it.
Though I am just musing here. The weekend, the bachelor event- or camping trip- was enjoyable. Kyle, Jeff, Matt and Tannen, I love you very much. Let’s do it again next year.