I can sleep when I'm dead...

This past week was a bit rough. Alright, it was very rough. Emotionally, physically, mentally, the whole kit-and-kaboodle.


First focal point - volleyball.
Sunday we had a practice that went fairly well for only have three girls there. Monday we didn't have a practice because of Parent teacher conferences at the school.
Tuesday was another decent practice in my eyes. The girls finally realized that, "Yeah, we're gonna have to work."
Wednesday we were off, same with Thursday Friday and Saturday. At least the team was. We coaches however were not off. We had a clinic on Wednesday for our last two months focusing on keeping the girls from burning out from the long season. Thursday we found out that Curt's mother passed away. Friday we had another mini-clinic at Curt's house on coping with loosing. (Related to something somehow I'm thinking...) We didn't really talk about much other that other experiences we were in where we lost, and how we got over it. It boiled down to just a couple of us hanging out in the basement playing pool and drinking beer, talking about what's gone wrong in life and how we got past it.

I was a bit of an outcast at that point. I don't really enjoy talking about my feelings. Ever. It's hard for me to articulate what I feel, because I'm not good at it, I don't like doing it. I've got no problem telling about times where I screwed up, I've got plenty of those moments. I can tell you how I got over the guilt of screwing up. But for me to bare a piece of my soul and tell how I got over that...it just ain't gonna happen. Couple of reasons for that: I better know you better than I know my family, and you don't wanna know how I got over it, I'll look like a sociopath.

Loss is something that I don't truly understand. It happens. We can't change it. Remember what you want and move on. No use beating yourself up about something you can't change. (No use beating yourself up for things you can change either, if you can change it...change it.)

Anyway, Saturday coaches got the day off for planning and assembling the troops for tournaments.

Sunday was the fourth tournament. The girls did a great job. 12 points lost from not talking. From 41 points to 12, in a week. Amazing progress, and I let them know it. But, I let them know it too soon. We were in the last match of pool play, playing for third place. We came out of the gate fired up and took the other team to extra points even if we lost 26-28, it was a great effort. The second set we were set up in serve receive and could not pass the ball. The girls got their heads in the way of they fun of the game. We took third place in the pool because of a point spread that was negative 20. Ouch.

Bracket play started and we swept up. We kicked butt and took names. Every team in our side of the bracket (Consolation first place!) met with defeat when they faced us. The sad thing is that a weaker sister team played great in their pool and got demolished in bracket play. Just annihilated, which happens. What I'm upset about with that situation is that none of that team, coach included, did not stick around to watch any of the other sister teams playing. My team did, well after pictures with the new hardware we supported our 13's and 14's teams still playing.

Second focal point - work(ish)

One of the volunteers out at the farm asked me if I'd help him move some of his cattle and help him load hay, then clean out a grain bin. All in all, not the hardest work in the world. But this volunteer happens to live a good 45 minutes east of here. Working with Hank is a lot like working with Grandpa. The work is cleansing, the conversation is never boring, and there are plenty of coffee breaks. He kept putting off paying me (which he insisted on, I thought I was just going to help out a good guy) till the next day. Ended up that Friday we sat in the tavern for most of the day debating who the better artist was/is: Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, or Hank Williams Sr. At the end of the Friday he asked if I'd come back out on Saturday and help him shoot ground hogs with his son. I informed him that I only have a shotgun and a pistol out here, but I could borrow my roommate's .22 rifle on Monday. Hank said, "Forget that, you can use my aught-6" So, Saturday I showed up at his shop's door around 6 in the morning. Hank opened the door and handed me a cup of coffee and said, "Do you not sleep in on the weekend?"

We took a couple of varmints, and had a great time doing in. Met Hank's boy, who I've heard all about, and had fresh meat for dinner.


Third focal point - Farms.

Somehow, somewhere, somebody is not keeping confidential information confidential. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but if the only way to keep a secret between three people is to kill the other two, I'm with the wrong company. Cloak and dagger and speaking out of turn on subjects the speaker has no knowledge of is not a good way to retain employees. It makes my head and heart hurt when my trust is betrayed. And betrayed it was.

Fourth focal point - Sleep.

I haven't been sleeping again, hence the subject line. It comes from a song by Jason Michael Carroll, where the theme is being young and crazy and not sleeping.

Yes, this past week has been busy. Early mornings, and some late nights. All of that points to me sleeping. I get tired, I can't sleep cause I'm at the wheel. I get home and crawl in bed, and close my eyes. Then I toss and turn, toss and turn...then finally open my eyes back up and see 15 minutes have gone by. Repeat that for another 4 hours with maybe 5 minutes of sleep thrown in there every hour. I don't know where I'm getting the energy to get through the day. Wherever it's coming from I'm grateful.

I don't know how to change it, so I'm just gonna accept it and move on. Change it when I can.

Buck