My Sunday Morning in Westport, CT

This is an excerpt of an experience piece I wrote about the Mini Maker Faire

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” – Steve Jobs

I awoke with a splitting headache, a clear sense of confusion, and an unquenchable thirst for painkillers. When I opened the cabinet in my poorly refurbished bathroom my eyes scanned the pill bottles, finally grabbing hold of what I was looking for; god damn generic brand. I swallowed a few of the bicolored capsules not bothering to search for something to wash them down with. I found something to wear and fixed my hair; each lock having a mind of its own. Last night was fun.

I made my way outside with a mouth still full of mouthwash, spitting it in the driveway. With the turn of my key, I disturbed my Grand Cherokee from its slumber. Grand, of course, being the last thing a passerby would use to describe this thing, but I’ve never cared much for cars or anything really technical for that matter. This things only purpose is to get me from point A to point B. It’s an appliance.

And let’s be honest with each other. What do most people use computers for? That’s right, watch stupid videos, check your Facebook, and jack off. I do not understand the obsession.

That is why I’m at the Westport Mini Maker Faire at the Westport Public Library in Westport, CT, to meet people whose technological priorities are completely out of whack, or just different than mine. Its 10am on Sunday morning, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and I am happy.

But then I step under the massive whiteout tent, of proportions that would make even P.T. Barnum proud, finally breaking the threshold into this new and slightly darker world. A light breeze blows the flaps around the tent and if you look at the metal support poles from just the right angle you are blinded.

I stroll around for a few minutes just to get a sense of what I’m up against; being careful not to make eye contact with a soul and small talk is even more out of the question. Rick James’ 1981 hit single Super Freak is stuck in my head.

-Jameson Doris

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