My father was a teacher of Israeli folk dancing. I hated those events back around seven years ago, and since I cut my ties with him at around the same time, I've been avoiding them at all costs.

See, I'm not for the atmosphere of these gatherings. Elderly married people looking to get laid with someone other than their hubbies and wives, using that dance floor to touch, flirt and not try to hide it. It's simply disgusting. A gathering of cheaters, horndogs and slutty grannies, that's what it is.

When my father passed away, my brother decided to inherit his business. It's a very profitable business, and if you like doing it, it can be very fun. He's enjoying it, so of course I'm all up for that. In the seven months that have passed since my father died, I've been coming to the dances with my brother, helping him with his gear and selling the tickets at the entrance. Less for the cash I get for it, more to support my brother in what is a very difficult time.

But yesterday I had myself a little setback. After I closed the cash box, I went outside to read a bit more of The Stand (coming up on the end, don't want it to!), and while I was at it, I just couldn't shake the feeling that I'm really tired of this atmosphere once again. It took me a long time and a huge argument with my father last time, but this time it only took seven months of weekly four-hour events.

I really hope this changes because I want to be there for my brother, but right now I have the feeling that soon enough he won't seem to need me there and that's when I'll decide to take Friday noons off.

Let's all sigh!

Anyway, got a big of progress done on my art, and nothing much more. Boring times, boring times.