May 18, 2012
Rude.....
.... here's the in-class essay that I wrote just before leaving for Scotland........
Rudeness
By Eric SWG
Definitions of what constitutes rude behavior in human beings are as varied and complicated as human beings themselves. Indeed, cultural and societal differences have morphed so much over time that it is practically impossible to find a rude behavior that someone, somewhere would probably find acceptable. Belching, for instance, is considered rude by most standards. But to many ancient Norwegians it was actually considered a compliment to the chef and a sign of satiated satisfaction. Personally, I find think the ancient Norwegians were wrong regarding their views of belching. I am a tolerant man, and I am capable of looking over most behavior that people consider rude. I have, however, found that farting, skinny-dipping, and picking one’s nose in public are actions with which I cannot abide.
Breaking wind was once considered a spectator sport during my childhood, and through the course of my life I have met individuals who had raised it practically to an art form. I now consider such behavior absolutely abhorrent, and I tend to pick and choose my friends primarily on their ability to respect my nostrils and personal space. In Scotland I once met a man who dined almost exclusively on Indian cuisine, and one could both smell and hear his flatulent approach from twenty yards away. Needless to say, he was not a fellow with which I cavorted willingly. Farting is rude. I have known men who left me feeling physically assaulted after they had broken wind.
Skinny-dipping is on a lot of people’s bucket lists. These people are mostly city dwellers who have no real grasp of what creatures lurk in countryside watering holes. Skinny-dipping is a prime of how different people consider different human activities wholesome, while other people find them rude. On the surface, skinny-dipping can seem quite innocuous, but it is not. I once happened upon a group of middle-aged suburbanites taking a dip in a local creek. I was hunting and well camouflaged, so I spied on them for the better part of an hour. It wasn’t until exited the water that I realized that they were in flagrante. The trauma of witnessing their sagging, mud-flecked, soggy, naked bodies has haunted me far into my adulthood.
Every human being has a nose, and every human being has fingers. The problem arises when these two anatomical entities begin exploration. There is nothing more disturbing and rude than watching some yahoo go elbow-deep while sitting at a traffic light. I have seen it on more occasions that I would hazard to recall. Picking one’s nose should be a secretive, solitary, intimate endeavor. Picking one’s nose also has the added rudeness of what to do when one actually found what one was looking for. The product of excavating nasal cavities is boogers, and what exactly is one to do with a booger while waiting for the traffic light to change? The idea is just disgusting.
Rudeness is a highly subjective idea. Our cultures and societies have created hypothetical lists of things one should and shouldn’t do. I can tolerate most people and their individual idiosyncrasies. There are certain things that do make me cringe though. People who pass gas are not only rude, they are disgusting as well. Gentlemen and women who imagine that their vehicle is somehow hiding the fact that they are busily fingering their nostrils are also disgusting and rude. Skinny-dippers should post adequate signage before beginning their frolic lest innocent wanderers be blinded. Skinny-dipping is perhaps the most rude of my list, actually. There is a reason that Playboy bunnies were all born in 1992. No one wants to see naked octogenarians.
.... ended up with a 1st semester gpa of 3.66...... not to bad for a first-timer, I guess.....
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May 15, 2012
Home.....
..... what a trip, folks...... Aberdeen, Ballater, Banchory, Aboyne, Montrose, Perth, Crief, Crainlarich, Dunstaffnage, Oban, Mull, Iona, Inverary, Glasgow, and London.... and those were just the BIG towns....... I am beat...... I am home, but I am beat.....
.... time to listen to some music and relax.....for tomorrow, we begin it all again......
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May 03, 2012
Lost...
... 6am in Ballater, Scotland and I have just boiled the kettle for a mug of coffee..... drinks, carry out dinner, and a marathon of keping awake until darkness fell yesterday and it was time for rest..... six hours of sleep, and the dawn is here early..... it is a cool, misty morning here - so very far removed from the steamy mornings we'd had lately in Tennessee... still, it is so nice to see the family all laughing, joking, and sloshing wine all over the place in celebration....
.... lunch has been booked at The Raemoir House Hotel for later today..... then we'll wander back to the lodge to digest and contemplate what's for dinner..... oh, AND to begin calling the airlines to find out where they lost The Missus' luggage.....
.... there is no adventure without a little adversity, eh?....
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May 01, 2012
2012....
... and with that, Rubberneckers, I am off....... I shall studiously write - in better handwriting - more pages in my handly little travel journal.....
... off to the windswept shores of Scotland once again.......
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April 30, 2012
April 29, 2012
April 28, 2012
April 26, 2012
April 25, 2012
April 24, 2012
Class.....
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
.... goodnight......
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Fiasco....
... part two of Hell....lost luggage, missed flights, lost spouses, inoperable cell phones......
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April 23, 2012
April 22, 2012
April 21, 2012
Thyme...
... continued from May 10th, 2006 in Montrose, Scotland....
....and here's the earworm I was talking about....
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April 20, 2012
Grilling....
... in Scotland, when you decide to grill, you grill.... the weather has nothing to do with your deision....
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April 19, 2012
Pate....
.... after stuffing ourselves at lunchtime, this was written after evening snacks.... May 7th, 2006....
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