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In which I exercise possible futility
August 12, 2007

So, I've been taking along slips of paper with me no matter where I go, as I end up going to places by myself more often than not, and since I don't want to look like a complete loser just sitting at a bar pretending to enjoy the NFL game, I write instead. Finding that bar napkins (really napkins of any sort) are no good at taking the exuberance of my spelling, bringing along paper has facilitated an exercise of size. I cannot unfold these papers to make them larger - the best I can do is flip them over and utilize the backside to make the surface complete. Thus, when I was out last night at the Bullpen Tavern, after the Timbers vs. White Caps game, I decided that whatever I should write on said slips of paper shall be blog posts. "What cleverness is this!" said I to myself, when placing the tip of my pen onto the Hello Kitty-printed notepaper, "It's like making sure my thoughts keep to a certain degree of abridgment!" So, here you go: the first of the small-paper tirades - hope you enjoy. (The below was written on the backs and fronts of 3 3"x3" pieces of paper at the Bullpen Tavern in Portland, OR. I had brought 4 pages with me, but the first was dedicated to a personal note.)

I suppose it's totally inappropriate to commandeer an entire table for myself, but the others paired off & I'm again alone. I guess I'm kind of hoping that someone will come and sit here with me, though that's probably not going to happen while I look busy writing.
Maybe I should just sit here looking bored & drink my beer & go. And that might be what ends up happening. I'm not good at approaching groups of strangers, even drunk strangers. And here come the pipers. [ed. At which point, the pipers entered the building and piped their way down to the end of the bar and a pint.]
Lord knows that the crowd here is mostly older folk, & if anyone sits at my table, it'll likely be one of these chummy pairs that have lived so long, nothing is embarrassing.
Everyone has their own friends already, their own comfort zones, & I'm infringing upon their borders with wishful eyes.
The game tonight was shite. Both teams played poorly, & the goal PT scored was taken away to much hissing and booing.
I can feel people eying me, the girl in green striped shirt, writing hungrily on tiny pieces of paper with a 2/3 full beer. I suppose once I run out of paper I'll have to live life again as a normal fan drinking a beer, and someone approachable & nice - sweet & undaunting - cute & not unassuming.
At that point, I may meet a neighbor or a new friend. Or maybe just someone fed up enough to sit down @ a 3/4 empty booth next to a stranger, so good at avoiding the world after being a part of a great community. A part of the Timbers Army. Alone amongst the 100s.

See my usage of ampersands and numbers to save space?! So... this will likely be the most often used method of blogging for me for a while, since I'm trying to just get out of the house on my own.