Happy St. Paddy’s Day

“A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick,
the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick.
40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks.
Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax.

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he’s filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.”
~Traditional Irish Drinking Song (Beer, Beer, Beer)

I went out last night. Truthfully, I wasn’t looking forward to it. The party host, my Red-Headed Friend (RHF) has two roommates, who host a few huge drunken costumey ordeals a year. I am an introvert and a non-drinker, so these parties tend to be a little too much for me.

But last night I was pleasantly surprised. RHF had St. Paddy’s Party with lots of Guinness, beef stew, and a large collection of musicians (fiddle, guitar, drums, whistle, banjo) in attendance. The musically-inclined friends were fantastic. They had a large repertoire of fast and tricky Irish tunes. I never even knew some of them played, and they certainly had never all played together before. I’m a musician, too. I play the tenor saxophone, but compared to these guys, not very well. I can’t play without sheet music and nobody ever taught me how to improvise or solo properly. But anyway…

The party was more laid back and quieter than what I was expecting, with was more than okay by me! I got the chance to have real conversations with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while, and meet some new people. I even got a job offer from one of the new peeps if I wanted to drive all over and teach CPR classes. Actually, it doesn’t sound like a bad deal; I’m going to think about it. RHF and I even had some one-on-one conversation while setting up Irish Car Bombs. He and I work for the same company and used to be very close to a couple friends who have since moved away, but we’ve never really known each other well. He’s cool; he marches to the beat of his own drum and really knows who he is.

And then, a little later, a whole bunch of other people showed up. Several of these people work for my former employer; most of the others work in the same industry as my former employer. All conversation turned to that industry because some loudmouths made it so. This seems to happen a lot. This industry is the foundation of most of my friendships, even though most of us have moved on. We have gotten to the point in our lives/friendships where we are starting to have diverse interests. I like this; it makes us more multi-dimensional. Although we have our equivalent of “and this one time, at band camp” reminiscing stories, we’ve grown. And then these children show up. I don’t care about them or their stories. I’ve been there; I’ve done that. I’m so sick of meeting these people, and judging by the look on RHF’s roommate’s face, I’m not alone.

I need space. My former employer helped make me who I am, but I wish that wasn’t all that defined me. I love many of my friends, but I need to branch out. I need to find people who share other interests and create new memories. I don’t want to be stuck and pulled back into my past. There is a future, out there, somewhere. I just don’t know how to get there. I can’t even find the rainbow that leads to the pot o’ gold.

Oh. Interesting fact I learned last night: St Patrick is honored because he eradicated the snakes from Ireland. I am terrified of snakes. St. Paddy is my new hero.