... Ahem.

Poetry

poetry
is like
a feeling
you
can't express
because
you
're too much of a
prick

to write in
prose



... Thank you.

Salsa + Ketchup + Mustard

Please tell me I'm not the only one who is tired of this chipotle trend.

Mis abuelos, circa the 1950's.

This is where I go to school. You are jealous.

Does this work?

Isabel and Me

Yep.

Mich.Mex

Just thought I´d do a little update, as I haven´t written anything since Il Peccato, I guess. Things are just fine here. We´ve visited Sta. Clara, Patzcuaro, Janitzio, and Guanajuato since I last wrote. I have lots of pictures and I intend to put some up as soon as I have some clever captions and stuff.
Things are going well at the Casa Hogar. The kids are great, even if it is hard to get them to clean or study. I don´t have pictures of them. I figure I´ll do it on the last day.
I´m about to leave for Tzintzuntzan and Quiroga, so I´ll try to update more once I get back.

The Mexican Way

Adriana called at about 9:30 and invited Victoria and me out to a little bar close to her house. I thought why not, and I got ready to go. I had no idea what I was getting into.
First off, nothing bad happened. It was just… interesting. Victoria and I took a taxi there, and we found the place completely full, with Karen and Adriana nowhere to be found. Victoria and I left for a moment just to walk around and maybe find them, but we eventually just walked back in and found them.
I was very nervous. I’m not a drinker, mostly because in the US, I can’t. But I really didn’t have a reason not to. So, I ordered a Cerveza Victoria, while the three others ordered Tequilas. I was feeling pretty calm at that point, until the waiter came back to ask what kind of tequila they wanted. It was really loud in the bar, making Spanish comprehension very difficult for the girls. In the confusion, they ended up ordering an entire bottle of tequila. That got my order canceled, leaving me to enter the world of alcohol with tequila. I got really nervous again. When Adriana found out that I’ve never really had anything, she felt bad but joke that I’m being introduced the true Mexican way.
I soon found out what the true Mexican way really is, and let me tell you, it doesn’t have much to do with drinking. Out of the blue, a guy appears between Adriana and Victoria and asks us in mildly broken English where we are from. Then, as if my magic, four more appear around us, and the pursuit began. They were like sharks, circling around the girls. They were all very distinct people:

• Leader: Wearing glasses and dressed a little better than the others, Leader was the one who first spoke and asked us who we were. He was clearly the smoothest, but he had the habit of leaning on the shoulders of two people around him. It was odd, and uncomfortable for those who were his supporters.
• Hat Guy: Wearing, obviously, a hat, Hat Guy had to be 15 years older than any of the others. He was old enough to be Karen’s father, which was disturbing considering the amount he hit on her.
• Lizard: Lizard was mostly quiet at first, but he had strategically positioned himself next to Adriana, and she soon had his full attention, and he hers for the night. He was clearly interested in her. She…. not so much. His name is Lizard because of his vague resemblance to one.
• Luis: The only one whose name I caught, his nickname is High Five. Imagine what he did. Yes, he high-fived each of us at least once, and several times instigated a “Salud” drink clinking.
• Last, but not least, is WIIILD: WIIILD is so named because he said certain words loudly and slowly, particularly wild. For the first half, WIIILD stood in the background, clearly shafted by his buddies. He came in full force, though, telling us to get WIIILD. What happens in Il Peccato, he says, stays in Il Peccato. He was an alcohol commercial, if alcohol commercials were a bit more obvious and a lot more off-putting.

It was interesting to see how they operated. They really did circle like sharks. One appeared, and the rest swarmed quickly. They made sure to talk to Victoria, who was identified at the friend who will quickly cock-block. They took shifts between Karen and Victoria, to hit on Karen, and then to appease Victoria. Lizard was on his own with Adriana. They even talked to me, to make sure I didn’t get mad, I suppose. They offered a few times to find me a girl. In the end, Lizard gave Adriana his phone number, but on our way home, we just laughed at how ridiculous they were. I guess that’s how it’s done, though.
As for the tequila, it didn’t do much. I didn’t feel much at all. It’s probably because I’m still rather scared of alcohol, even more when it’s tequila. So I didn’t have much. Nothing really happened to me, which is a good thing. I still don’t see what the deal is. It doesn’t really taste very good.
Victoria and I took a taxi home, and I waited outside my house and watched to make sure she got in okay. It turns out she was locked out of her gate. I offered to help her up to jump over, but we didn’t make it. We tried keys in the lock, but they didn’t work. Right before she gave up and used the doorbell, I reached over and opened the gate. It was unlocked.
Yeah, lack of common sense. That’s exactly what I want when I go out.

A New Friend

My second day at Casa Hogar was a little different from my first. I arrived much earlier than last time, going straight to the Casa Hogar without going to the school. The kids were sitting in the dining room, with the asst. director telling them the wonders of Christ (the Casa Hogar is Baptist Evangelical, something rare in what is basically a Catholic nation). Right after they were let go, Javier, Raul, and Omar came up to me. I tell you, they attach so quickly. I got them to do the walkways much slower this time. I had to help Adrian step by step in mopping one walkway. I met a few more boys, Juan Luis, maybe 3 or 4, and Edgar, who could not be more than 2 years old. I sat with the kids as they ate breakfast. I sat between Omar and Raul, who were competing to see who would finish first, but they were so distracted that the girls beat them both. Sulivan, who was sitting on the other side of Omar, kept grabbing my arm and holding it against his face.
After oatmeal, Julio passed out cups of orange juice. Juan Luis was at the end of the other table, and they ran out just before him. He started crying, and I felt really bad for him. Later, though, I think I saw him with what used to be Julio’s glass of juice. Good kid, that Julio.
I made a new friend today in Isabel, 4. She’s just about the most adorable a kid can get, and she has attached herself to me fully. Javier and I played tag, and I contracted Isabel to help me by sending her to ask him to carry her. It worked a lot; he’d forget we were playing and I’d catch him. I played lots of games with Isabel. I swung her around, and picked her up so she could fly like an airplane. Since Adriana and I don’t have watches, we ended up staying late 20 minutes. I told Isabel I had to go, and she just started bawling. I’m not entirely it was because of me, but I think it was. Augh. I feel so needed. It’s going to be so hard to leave at the end of the month.

Johnny B. Bad

The rest of the day was nice. We had our first culture class, about the first indigenous peoples of Mexico, and a bit of Morelian history. I came home for lunch of some excellent chicken enchiladas and then took a siesta. We went back to the university for arts class, in which we made candles. I could hardly stand the class. We all stood around the kitchen counter and watched the teacher show us different methods of candle-making. A lot of the methods it was clear to me that she was just telling us about so that could know. All the girls wanted to try them, though. They drove me crazy, especially Victoria, who wanted to try the strangest stuff, like fill her water bottle with wax to make a octagonal candle, despite the fact that the wax would warp the bottle and just make a huge mess. I just wanted to pour the wax and get out of there, but it took ages.
After class, we walked back home, making it the fourth trip of the day. These are 35-40 minute walks each, in the Mexican sun. It’s a little tiring, but fun at the same time. We see some strange stuff, like this advertisement for Skyy Vodka:



Dear John Leguizamo,
What are you doing? You need to stop that. There’s no need to prostrate yourself to the point of cheesy Mexican advertisements just because no one has seen you in anything since Moulin Rouge. America still loves you! You will always be our Luigi. Please stop hocking yourself to get in Mexico’s good graces. Besides, that’s not the way to do it. You have to put on a mask and wrestle. Duh.

Casa Hogar el Buen Pastor

I successfully managed to get myself out of Rosie’s class, and today was my first day with the kids. It’s not an elementary school like I thought. It’s more like… an orphanage. But it’s not for orphans, per se. Some are, but most are children of single mothers or prisoners. Anyway, Adriana and I went to the Casa Hogar (as it’s called) and we were each put in charge of a group of kids. I had the boys, and she had the girls. The first task of the day was to sweep and mop the walkways. You would not believe how hard it was to get them to do it. When you are 8 years old and you live with 35 friends, it’s easy to be distracted. The best I could do was give two boys brooms and set them at opposite ends of the walkways. Whoever reached the middle first won.
It was amazing how quickly they attached themselves to us. Within 10 minutes of being there, a tiny four-year-old came up behind me and gave me a big hug around my legs. I don’t think I’d even seen her yet. I said “Hi” to her, but she went off. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure which one she was.
One of my boys, Sulivan, immediately took a shine to me. There’s something different about this kid. There is something a little bit wrong with his right hand and leg, and he runs in sort of a half-skip because of it. I also think because of it, he doesn’t really get to participate in the cleaning and such, so naturally he’s the only one who wants to. He grabbed my hand a lot, and he walked around with me. They need adults. Parents.
After cleaning, we played soccer in the back patio. I was the goalie, which was not hard because I was half the size of the goal. I’m beginning to see some personalities. Sergio, 8-ish, is pretty competitive and sporty. He likes to win. Julio, 11-ish, is becoming something of an authority figure, and a good influence on the kids, I think. Javier, 10-ish, is Julio’s good friend and right-hand man, it seems. Raul and Omar, 8 and 7, I guess, want to be where the action is, whatever it is. Adrian, 8-ish, did not play soccer with us. He sat on the sides and played with some wood and rocks. He’s good at getting out of work, but a good kid overall. Rafa, about 14, I think, broods. He seems a little resentful of life in Casa Hogar. He wants/needs more. I want to see what’s going on there.
When I first got there, I almost immediately wanted to leave. I didn’t (and still don’t) know what I’m doing, but I feel needed, even if I’m just playing around and making jokes with them.
Plus, I still get credit for it. Three credits for loving and being loved? All right.

In the Island of Jamaica, Everybody Loves Bananas

The bad news is that my alarm clock is very unreliable. The good news is, the birds chirping in the morning hopefully are. I woke up to their nose instead of the noise from my clock. I ate a delicious breakfast of what I think was mushroom omelet. Victoria showed up with her “brother” Diego. On the ride to school, Diego informed us that he loves beer, and tequila, and discotecas, and the women in Guadalajara. Apparently, because at 23, he has a 6-year-old.
At school, we were divided into our grammar classes, and to tell you the truth, I was not so impressed. Our teacher, Rosie, is an all-right woman, but she didn’t get us very excited about the class. I couldn’t stop looking at the lipstick stain on her front teeth. She gave us a grammar test, which I pretty much aced (it was my saving grace that they didn’t have the dative case on it, or I would have been sunk). We then talked a bit about Mexican culture, of which I’m at least halfway familiar already. Hopefully the plan to go and help at the local elementary school will pan out, and I’ll avoid the class entirely. Instead of culture class, we did a little tour of Morelia, looking at the post office, a few stores, and another governor’s palace, this one of the state of Michoacán. It was covered with murals of the regions and history of the state, and it was pretty interesting. After class, we came back home on the combis, huge VW hippie vans that act as a miniature bus system in the city. We had our lunch of cream of cauliflower soup and chicken in a jamaica (jicama in English, I think) sauce. I know it probably sounds lame for me to talk about what I had to eat, but you have to understand that everything here is so good that it’s worth mentioning. I met Elisa, a student from Uruapán who studies in Morelia and lives with the Garcia family. After lunch, Victoria and I walked all the way back to the school for orientation, and then the whole group went out to eat paletas at the local Michoacana. And by local, I mean the one 2 minutes’ walk from the school, because there are about 5 “local” Michoacanas anywhere you step in Mexico. Afterwards, we headed back to where I lived to find some stores. I needed pants because I forgot to pack half of what I had set out before leaving. We found out that we didn’t live to far away from one another after all, which is great because it’ll be easier for us to hang out now.

I came back to the house and had dinner (French bread pizza, but a thousand times better than any French bread pizza you could ever imagine) and I uploaded my photos, now making it possible for me to update my blog in any way I please.

La Familia Garcia

Well, I just met my host family, and they’re totally awesome. I was really nervous about meeting them. We arrived in Morelia and went to the university, where a family member from each home was waiting to take us to their homes. Some of the ladies didn’t look too nice. As the housing director called out names, the cool people were quickly being taken. Crap, he looked like a cool dad, but he’s Adriana’s. Damn, that lady standing behind me looked sweet, but she’s Gillian’s. Oh shit, that lady is giving me a mean look. I hope it’s not her. There were three homes left to give out, but I only saw two hosts – mean look lady, and a really young woman who I wasn’t sure was even a host. I was second to last, and I was much relieved that the girl before me got mean look lady. I was set up with a kindly old man I didn’t even know was a host. Sr. García is a Spanish teacher in Morelia, but I get the feeling that he teaches foreigners, because he knew what mistakes Americans made in Spanish pronunciation. It’s a great match for me. He’s already corrected me twice, which is great. I totally forgot to ask them to correct me, so I’m glad I have someone who will. Sra. Hernandez is just the sweetest lady ever. The two are rather meticulous about stuff. Sr. García showed me how to turn on the lights in my room and the bathroom (by gasp flipping the switch). He also showed me how to lock the door (by pushing the button on the door, like most doors anywhere), and how pull the curtains (by pulling the curtains). They’re so cool.
They have at least one daughter, Sandra, who is married to Juan José, or Juanjo. They don’t live in the house. There may or may not be the two 21-year-olds, Carolina and Elisa, living in the house. I’m not totally sure.
The house itself is just great. It’s really open. The bottom floor sort of opens up to the top floor in a way, and there are windows and open areas into other rooms everywhere. It’s nice. My room is really neat, too. It has a slanted ceiling and a really big window. The best part is the arrangement of flowers made out of paper. They look so real.



This is going to be a good trip

(Con)fusion de Dos Culturas

Last hours in Guadalajara. We woke up early to take a tour of the city with our new friends from Morelia, Sica and Cristian. They basically led us around the route I took around the plazas. I thought it was strange for them to be our guides, as they weren’t Guadalajaran either. They took us down to one of the buildings I saw at the end of the plazas, but instead of taking us through, they brought us to the side, into the market. At first, I wasn’t too impressed – just a few stores, half of them shoe stores (Mexico seems to have a disproportionate amount of three kinds of stores: zapaterías [shoe stores], tiendas de novia [bridalwear], and corseterías [skank-ho lingerie stores].). We walked past a few of the stores and came upon a decent-sized plaza in the middle of the very large building. It was then that I realized that we had walked straight to the plaza without stopping, and there were hundreds of stores all around the plaza. What’s more, there were several levels of the building, making the entire store count go into the thousands (Adriana later asked and was told there were probably about 3000 total). They sold just about everything: jewelry, leather goods, shoes, dolls, backpacks, candy, shoes, aguas, and even birds. There were lots of parakeets and maybe some parrots, but hands down the most interesting bird had to be a chicken-sized pigeon in a cage.



After the market, we went back to the building and finally went inside. It was originally a church or an orphanage or something, but now it’s a museum. We only went into the first part of the building, but it was amazing. All over the walls and ceiling of the first room were murals painted by José Clemente Orozco, detailing the history of Mexico. It showed the Aztecs, the “discovery” of America, the conversion of the natives, and the revolution. Our guide was really thorough and showed us things that I never would have gotten myself. He explained that the ceilings are domes, and the murals look different from different angles. He also said some insightful things about Mexican history. In a painting of the government palace (where the protest was), the guide showed us elements of Spanish and native culture mixed in the painting, but he said that Mexico is not the fusion of two cultures; it’s the confusion of two cultures. He also said that what Mexico needs now is evolution, not revolution. Mexico’s had enough of those.

Overall, I really like Guadalajara, but I’m excited to meet my host family. Now who’s up for a four-hour bus drive! Me!

Que Vive La Paz!

Day one complete of a trip that is shaping itself to be absolutely mind-blowing. This afternoon, after writing the first chapter of my Morelia blog, I decided I’d actually do something worth writing about so I headed out with my camera to see what I could see. First of all, I’m about one block away from a huge cathedral, and all around this cathedral are monstrous plazas and all around these plazas are amazing statues. It’s all just too wonderful.



After a nice stroll down the plazas and markets, I came back to the room, and the girls and I went out to the pool. We met up with the rest of the group. It’s seven girls, me, the professor, and the professor’s 20-year-old son, who may or may not go to William and Mary. I’m not sure. We prepared for dinner, but before going, I stepped out to the plazas again because there was a protest going on at the governor’s palace. Riot police stood around the palace at 5-foot intervals and a crowd gathered in front waving anarchy flags (a bit oxymoronic, maybe?) and chanting “Que vive la paz!” It was all very exciting, but the policemen looked very bored.



We went to La Chata for dinner, the restaurant our taxi driver had recommended. It was nice, but the best part was when Prof. Longo said that Adriana would be helping out at a local school. I jumped on the opportunity and she said I could do it too. Sweet!
After dinner a lot of the girls were set to go clubbing. We passed SEXYS Bar and clubs with “Concursos de playeras mojadas!” and I began to think this was not a good idea, but I went along with it anyway. We came back to the hotel to change and meet an hour later, but thankfully everyone conked out. I was relieved to leave the day labeled “exciting” and not “overwhelming.” Maybe next time.

Eighth World Wonder

I’ve lost all sense of time, which is hard to deal with when you don’t wear a watch. What with staying up all night to arrive in Greensboro at 4:30, looking for lunch in Atlanta at 7:00, and finding myself several hours later in Guadalajara, I don’t know if this really counts as Saturday. It should be counted as a whole extra day, like Saturday pt 2, or Funday (shout-out to Quailman!).
I’ve already seen some neat things here – flying over Mexico, I saw these beautiful canyons outside of the city. It was amazing to see a tiny river carve immense walls of elephant-skin rock.

Oh, and I saw in the bathroom at the Guadalajara airport that the toilet paper dispenser was the brand Kimberly Clark, just like the American Idol girl. Hands down way more interesting than any canyon. I wish I’d had my camera then.

El Comienzo

My initial thought was to begin with lyrics to "Leavin' On a Jet Plane" but then I realized that my readers deserve more than such a trite opening.

Now I realize that complaining about my own banality is not much better.

Anyhoo, in a few hours, I leave for my first summer abroad trip to Morelia. It is about damn time, too, because I've just about had it with Roanoke. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but I also hate it. While part of it is nice (family), part of it is not (most friends). There is only so much I can handle of old friends before we're just waiting to tell about our own lives. As I told a friend, I've already gone through them, and it's time for something different.
What makes Roanoke that much harder to bear is simply the fact that there is nothing for me here. I used to have goals, purpose here, in high school. In Williamsburg, I again have things to do. Now, though, I don't have anything. I'm just sitting at home waiting for something to happen. It's been making me terribly anxious. I just can't take doing nothing for extended periods of time.

Well, I finally will not have to deal with this anymore, because I am on my way.

So long, fools.

Slubley Plervlert

When I take pictures now, I try my hardest not to look Asian. It's a real challenge for me. I open my eyes really wide in hopes that my smile will balance it out. Now, I look surprised in every photo. Surprised and Asian.

A Wikiwiki Mai Lohilohi

When it comes to vacation spots, I've never understood the tropical resort option. Lounging on the beach with a drink in one hand and bronzer in the other has never sounded exciting to me. I've always preferred the idea of a winter tour of Europe, cities full of people, good food, and lots of adventure. However, I've made a decision - I'd very much like to go to Hawaii.
Not for the lounging-drink aspect, but for the culture. Today I downloaded a song called "Love Song of Kalua" that I first heard at Jeri's beledi performance and only just now was able to find, and it's my new favorite song. Hawaiian music just seems to suggest a certain characteristic of Hawaiian culture that makes it really interesting. I want to learn about hulas and surfing and Hawaiian mythology and anything else Hawaiian. Heck, I want to learn Hawaiian. That would be amazing.
It could be a phase. Maybe I just really like the song. But maybe it's not. Maybe I'll just have to go to Hawaii and see. Either way, I'll need something to tide me over. Lilo and Stitch is looking mighty nice right about now.

Draining

Today was a strangely Jeri-oriented day. I woke up in the morning and headed down to the church to give blood for the drive they were having. The woman who stuck me was clearly new at the whole deal and supposedly gave me a nasty hematoma with little blood flow for collection. All the nurses were making a big fuss over me, despite the fact that I didn’t care much and found the whole situation mildly amusing. I filled half a bag of blood and they sat me down at the cookie table and got me an ice pack for my bruise, even though I didn’t feel a thing. Though I looked pretty pathetic, I couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about how Jeri would probably be crying over a situation like this. How she’d freak over the slightest thing.

Later today, I was organizing all my stuff that I have yet to unpack from college. I took all the papers I threw from my desk to the car and began sorting through them, discovering what was trash and what wasn’t. I came across all the cards and letters I’d received that year, and among them I found a card from Jeri. It was from the day I broke up with her. She could tell I was not okay, and I asked her to leave. I went to talk to Daniel, and while I was away, she left this note on my desk. She told me she wasn’t trying to make me feel better, but she’d be there for me when I needed her. She’d wait.
I began to feel guilty over what had happened. I had lost control over the situation, and I didn’t know how to react, and she got hurt. I read the note, and I could hear the feeling in them; she cared for me. I had let her down.
I read the note again, but this time, I felt something different. She’d wait for me? No. That’s exactly what she didn’t do. As much as she tried to understand my position, she couldn’t. She didn’t let me get back to myself in my own time. So, it had to end.
The exact same note made me feel guilty and angry, but most of all tired of the situation. Jeri has been the biggest challenge this year, and it doesn’t even feel close to done. I know the whole ordeal was not carried out in the best way, but I don’t feel like we should be on such a wavering status. I just want this unpleasantness to be over. I want to let go of my anger so she can let go of hers, and then we’ll get on with our lives.
I wish it hadn’t ended so badly.

Whipple

I gotta say, being with family is great. Sleeping in my own real bed is wonderful. Walking from room to room and still counting the space as “mine” is superb. But hands down, nothing tops the welcome back feeling of quilted two-ply. Charmin, I’ve missed you!

Quarter Complete

And with that, my first year is finished. I really messed this one up at times, but at others, I really shined through. I found myself, I lost myself, I recovered myself. I’ve experienced so much new in my first year. Of course, there is so much I have yet to experience, but if this year has taught me anything, it is to step boldly to it and not be afraid. I’m hardier than I thought I was.

Although… maybe I wasn’t. Without a doubt, the friends I’ve made this year have been critical to me being… me. Christina, Mama Betsy, and Daniel in particular have been integral in keeping me from cracking. I’ve probably left them a little worse for wear as a result, but I like to think I make up for that with my world-class hugs.

Driving back home on 64, I was stricken with the sudden realization that I was not coming back for anything. I was putting my life on hold for a few weeks, just long enough until I could get out of the country. I was saddened to think that my life was not waiting for me in Roanoke. Now that I’ve arrived and had time to think about it, life never waits for me, or anyone for that matter. Life is to be created, wherever I go. Though it might only be for a few weeks, I’m going to make the most of it. And when I return in the fall, I’ll be ready to create life all over again.

Say Yes To Michigan!

Within hours of that last entry, I managed to do the exact opposite of what I intended to do. Saturday night, my friend Tiffany IMed me with a nice little proposition. She had several extra free tickets to Busch Gardens, if it would be wonderful if I could round up a friend or two to go with her for a break from exams.
Okay, I thought about Hannah, to be quite honest. But I also thought about what a bad idea it was and how it would be really awkward and not so much fun if I were preoccupied with… other thoughts. So I asked Rachel. And Christina. And Daniel. And Jeri. I looked for Mama Betsy, but she wasn’t around. I had run out of options. There was no one else to talk to. I would simply not ask Hannah. I would not. I would not. I would not.
So Hannah was just delighted to go. I was delighted as well, but more in a mortified sense. I stressed over it that night, as all my friends will attest to (sorry about that, guys), but I just went, and overall, it was a lot of fun. Yes, I was distracted a lot, and yes, I think she thought about it a few times, too (Like when she held on the railing as hard as she could to avoid sliding into me on a whirly-gig ride), but it was mostly all right. The only part worth mentioning was right at the beginning, when Juliana, Tiffany, Hannah, and I entered the park. Juliana talked about how this day at Busch Gardens would be just so much better than Busch Gardens day last fall because last time she went in a group with a guy who had a crush on her and it was “soooooo awkward.” I’m sure none of us could possibly imagine what must have been like at all.

Odd Couple

I’ve been getting sort of worried lately about our living situation next year. Aside from the whole Carter thing, I’m especially worried about Daniel. I can see us butting heads constantly. With my not-so-neat tendencies (which I’m working on…) and Daniel’s penchant for insulting, well… everything, it will be easy for us to get on each other’s nerves. I don’t know why I’m thinking about this now. It’s not even as though he is bothering me at the moment. I just think that in such close and constant proximity, things might get a bit sour, and I don’t want to hurt our friendship. I’ve been worrying about it a lot the past few days.
Earlier today, I woke up in a bad, bad mood. For no reason, really. Drew and Chris woke me up to play X-Box, but that’s not what was bothering me. Jalapeno, Josh, and Jordan all walked in at some point, and I’m sure they all noticed my mood. They all left, and I sat at my computer. Then Daniel came in. He just sat down, asked me how I was, and asked me to talk about what was wrong. There really wasn’t anything wrong. I was just in a bad mood, but Daniel got me talking, and I quickly forgot about it. He was there for me, even for the smallest, most insignificant thing. Even when I didn’t ask for it, he knew how to make me feel better.
That’s why he’s my roommate, and that’s why I’m not worried anymore.

Daniel, I can tell this is going to be the best year ever.

When you lose a ring

Another dream, from what I remember

A single Japanese woman was walking upright on top of a moving train. She approaches a darkly dressed, old Japanese man who looks vaguely like Gen Fu in build but is exponentially more badass. He is clearly the one she is looking for. As she approaches him, others are crawling out of the train and begin to follow her, but a quick wave of her hand creates a force field that appears orange for a second and then turns clear. The two begin to fight, , but the right is not terribly action-packed. Instead, but it’s made more interesting with the use of bullet-time,. Also, the scene angle shows obstacles coming near the train further up and shows the views of each combatant.

The scene changes, and as far as I can tell, I am filling out a survey for William and Mary tours with my parents. We’re in an area similar to the back area of Lodge 1, but more squares and more blue. As I fill it out and answer the question about whether or not I will apply here, I realize how useless it is to fill out the survey, considering I already attend. We’re talking about Law and Order and its spinoffs. I don’t like the newest, Criminal Justice, which shows the acts committed by the criminals through their eyes. I explain that the other spinoffs have clear differences – Special Victims Unit uses only a certain type of crime, and Criminal Intent has that crazy detective. Criminal Justice only uses different camera angles for the same story. It’s not useful. The battle on the train was an episode of Criminal Justice.

New scene. I remember having the spaghetti split among the three of us, possibly my brothers and me. I’ll assume they are. I think it ended up that my little brother Joshua got a lot more spaghetti than either Eric or I did. We wanted to put some in a gladware container to give to the Preston/Giles students, but my little brother didn’t want to, and he got the most. It was decided that we would each give 20 noodles from our meals to the cause. I showed (whoever) that 20 noodles was not a lot – just a mouthful. So, I resigned myself and gave away my entire portion. I went to the kitchen to get it (still, somehow in this blue Lodge 1 area) and filled the gladware container with meatballs. I packed them in, and by the time they were done, they were chocolate chip cookies. Justine had baked about 4 pans of them, and one pan was my… uhh.. spaghetti. I took the cookies and went on to give them to the Preston/Giles residents. There was someone with me. I can’t remember who it was, but it must have been Jeff Handler. Strangely enough, though, I can’t help but feel that at that point, I was Jeff Handler, or invoked him somehow. In any case, as we approached the area to drop off the cookies (which, strangely looked vaguely like the entrance to Lodge 1, with the circling ramp. It’s hard to describe. The places was both inside and outside at the same time. It was night time, and the place was lit by torches in one part, leading up to an are with a counter that had lights and looked like the first Lodge 1 where I filled out my WM survey. There was a small stream with a bridge over it, but it was man-made [canal, I suppose], like the streams you can find in fancy restaurants.) we found a wooden boat. It was red and green and tugboat-shaped, and about the size of the love boat at Miyako. It was floating under the bridge, and we picked it up.

Here’s where things get complicated. The boat had some relationship to Jeff Handler’s little. Maybe he threw it away. Maybe he lost it. All I know is that it may or may not have been carrying our cookies (Yes, I know I was holding the cookies, but dreams don’t have to make sense.) We picked it up and walked up to the counter, past the torches, which were lighting an outdoor classroom of students of all ages (5-17). I’m pretty sure my uncle Cyril was their teacher. At the counter, we decided we wanted to surprise Jeff’s little by returning the boat to him with the cookies so he could turn them in to the Preston/Giles residents. The whole idea was that Jeff’s little would learn to appreciate service. We gave the boat and the cookies to the woman at the counter and then we started asking the students for a piece of paper and something to write with. None of the students had anything. There were scores of neatly stacked pieces of paper all over the students’ desks, but they all had writing on them. I was amazed that five-year-olds had thousands of pages of work to do. Finally, I got a scrap of paper and a red sharpie. I wrote on the note,

Tell him it’s from his A-Big Big, and remember to say “When you lose a ring, you can’t share its shine with the world.”

I don’t know where that last part came from, but I thought it was a well-known phrase that meant that he should keep what he has and use it to make the world a better place. It mixed the lost boat and the idea of service to create a message that I thought made a lot of sense. In fact, when Drew and Chris woke me up to play Dead or Alive 3, I got up and looked for the quote online – I could have sworn it was real.

Note to Self:

Use the phrase "smacks of" more often. but not in a dirty way.

Okay, maybe in a dirty way.

S.P.I.E.S.

Today, a full day early, my Alpha Phi Omega Clue Week came to an end. It caught me completely off-guard because I was expecting another day of clue week. We were lined up to hear the results of our scavenger hunt when our bigs came up behind us as a surprise. I was pleasantly not-so-surprised to find Dan Dodge behind me. He'd been my A-Big for pledging and at the Matoaka social I said my memory was finding out how cool Dan Dodge really was. I really had no idea until my clue with him, when he told Alex and Amanda how cool their bigs were, and when I asked, he hesitated for a second, and then told me he is "pretty cool... Actually, he's the coolest guy I know." Thankfully, no one gave it away, not even Amanda, my twin who knew about our big the whole time.

And so, as of about 5:00 today, I am now a proud member of the Secretive People Ill-bred, Enough Said APO family, or S.P.I.E.S for short.

Sullen Contrariness with Little Provocation

A new era of Andrew-centered ridicule began today as Daniel came across a website detailing the symptoms ofPassive-Aggressive Personality Disorder. Originally intended for our friend Christina, Daniel quickly applied everything mentioned on the site to me, citing specific examples this year. While I can't exactly deny a lot of these connections, it's still irritating to be labeled with a personality disorder I don't actually think I have. What's much worse, though, is that I know that this will lead to more and more instances of making fun of me, and when those instances elicit an emotional reaction out of me, they'll immediately be attributed to being passive-aggressive and then quickly dismissed. This will not be a happy transition phase.

On a related note, is it passive-aggressive to bitch about this in a blog that I know Daniel will eventually read? You're damn right it is.

Hair-piphany

I think I know why people are only know starting to notice my two-week-old haircut; it looked shitty and only now looks good enough for people to "notice" and then compliment it without lying.

Send Me On My Way

I’d had it all planned out – I was going to be so smooth, surprising Mama Betsy. Every Thursday, Mama Betsy waits for all of us to get out of class and meet her at the UC for a 10:15 breakfast. Every Thursday, though, we always take forever to get there, and she is usually done before we get there. Today, on the other hand, was going to be different. I was going to be at the UC right at ten, so she and I could have breakfast together. There was really no reason for me to wait until 10:15 every week, and it would be a nice surprise for her. I got my ID, plugged in my iPod and listened to Rusted Root’s “Send me on my way” as I went.. on my way.
Halfway down the road, I half-noticed a man on a bike trudging up the road with his toddler son strapped in a backseat. He seemed to be doing an all right job.. that is, until the bike toppled sideways, causing the man to slam into the asphalt with a loud thud. It was a rather peculiar fall, as the man didn’t try to break his fall at all. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice the bike was off balance until he was up-close-and-personal with the ground. I was about thirty feet away, and by the time I got there, he was standing up and tending to his son, who was crying very loudly. They both looked just fine, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if he was okay, so I did. He didn’t look at me and instead cared for his son. I got the feeling that I was embarrassing him. It was understandable; he had fallen very goofily. I almost left him there, but I decided I could at least wait for an answer, even a shamed one. I asked him again, and he just looked at me and hesitated, breathing heavily. I asked if I should go get help – I thought I was prompting him to say no and send me on my way; the baby was fine now and he looked like he was all right. However, he started breathing more heavily and replied, “Actually, yeah, could you get someone?” I immediately went to the UC and they called emergency services to help the guy. I went back to talk to him before they arrived. His name was Scott, and he just had a bit of trouble breathing after the fall. He was thoroughly embarrassed once a police car, a fire engine, and an ambulance showed up. It looked like my role was over, so I said bye, and he thanked me “for stopping.” I went on my way, at this point way too late to surprise Mama Betsy, and the lady at the UC counter thanked me as I walked by, “for stopping.” It made me happy and sad at the same time. I felt happy because I felt like a good person. I had done an honest to goodness good deed. It made me sad, though, because it meant that asking someone if s/he is all right after a nasty spill on the asphalt passes for a good deed.
When I finally walked into the dining area, Mama Betsy was nowhere to be found. She showed up late, after I had eaten breakfast alone. It makes me feel like it was fate – like helping that man was the real reason I was “Sen[t] … on my way.”

Yes, Miss Lanigan

Tonight, I had a wonderful exercise in regression. Tiffany is getting her degree in education and has to present a biology lesson to fourth graders. She was really nervous about it, so she got us all together tonight to present her lesson to us. In order to really give off the school atmosphere, we were told to act like fourth graders, which we did in spades. We talked out of turn, we didn’t listen, we did stupid stuff – everything fourth graders would do, and more.

• Me: Miss Lanigan, I want to write on the board next
• Sarah: Miss Lanigan, don’t let Mike write on the board. He’s too stupid to write.
• Me: No, you’re the stupid one.
• Sarah: No YOU are.
• Carling: You two be nice and get along. Right Miss Lanigan?
• Miss Lanigan: Yes, Carling. They should get along.
• Sarah: Teacher’s pet!
• Carling: Am not!
• Me: Are too!
• Katie: Miss Lanigan, Mike won’t stop kicking my chair
• Mike: I’m not doing anything!
• Katie: Yes, he is! He’s kicking my chair.
• Me: Miss Lanigan, they’re in love.
• Rich: Yeah! Katie and Mi-ike, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
• Miss Lanigan, I lost my lima bean.

We doodled on our papers, and we made faces at each other, and worst of it was when Tiffany passed around a spray bottle to water our lima beans. We went a little overboard on that one, especially with Carling.
Ahh, good times, bad memories. It was nice to do that, for several reasons. First, it was nice just to remember what it was like back then. I started drawing on my paper and I immediately flashed back to doodling in elementary school. I remembered the angular s and the weird chessboard thingy, which I’ve recreated here for you.


Second, it was refreshing to take on a role I didn’t play as a child. I used to be the teacher’s pet/ cry baby (Who would have imagined?), but this time, I was the troublemaker. Tiffany made me sit up front with her, I was such a nuisance. It was a lot of fun. I wish I had gotten into trouble more often in fourth grade.

MANthili

I've made tens of promises about actually working on this blog. This week, I told myself I would write one entry a day until Friday, and I would start to get back into the habit. Well, it's Friday and the first night I've written here in a long time. I don't think I'm going to write anything of substance, so I'm going to instead unveil a picture that is very near and dear to my heart. After that, we'll see how it goes.

If ever there were a place to unveil MANthili, this surely is it.

I Just Lost The Game

I've very often wanted to write down my little thoughts of the day in my blog. I've come up with a lot, such as how I hate when people use two cups at the dining halls because they know they are too lazy to just get a refill the second time around. I've never gotten around to it, but I've thought about it so much that I I've even contemplated what I'd name such entries. My first ideas was "Random Thoughts" but I felt this was too vague and clichéed. I went on to "Deliberate Thoughts of a Random Mind," but I just could not get past my own hatred for the word "random." I ended up wanting to write another entry on how much I hate the word random. This, of course, led me to yet another of these so-called thoughts, and I decided I'd just have to stop.
And then start.

I hate it when people go to the dining halls and get two cups and then proceed to put the same drink in both. It irritates me to no end. Are you the one cleaning these cups? No? Then get only one, and get your ass up to refill it, dammit. The other day I saw a guy with four, count 'em FOUR cups. To that guy, I say: No one likes you.

My favorite part of having an ipod is not the immense library of music, nor is it the fact that I have it at hand all the time. No, it's the fact that I can have it without anyone else knowing. If you see me on campus with the headphones plugged in and a big, secretive grin on my face, just know it's because I'm playing Ace of Base's "The Sign."

I've recently made some mental notes about how my life is going to be when I'm older. It's not a five-year plan or anything like that. I don't know where it's headed, but I have some rules for my life, should they get to that point.

1. When/If/When I have kids, I will not stop until I have at least one boy and one girl. I thought about making sure everyone would have at least one brother and one sister, but that's a minimum of four kids. No effing way. One of each gender is fine. That way, they'll learn how to deal with girls/boys.
2. When I have my first kid, I will also get a dog and a cat. They'll all grow up together.
3. I will teach my kids at least Spanish. Hopefully one other language.

As you can see, I'm not deciding anything close to what I should be thinking about, like grad school, majors, classes for next semester. I think I have my priorities down.

That's all I can think of at the moment, except for the fact that all this thinking and remembering just made me lose The Game.

Life, Sharper

I feel really weird right now. I have a very heightened sense of urgency right now and I don’t really know why I have it. I know there is nothing going on but my mind is racing and I can’t figure it out. It has happened before. Things just seem louder or more severe. It’s not a serious thing, but I don’t know how to handle it. It mostly happens at night. I remember a dream I had in seventh grade when I took medicine painkillers for my broken arm, and my dad had to fight a monster made of neon colored balls in a boxing ring. That’s the feeling I have right now, I think.

There is another memory I have that I can’t put my finger on. I remember, I think it is a movie, where one person is terribly frantic, and the others are very sleepy or drugged or something, and the frantic one is prodding for answers and the sleepy ones give it very slowly, almost nonchalantly, as they don’t know the severity of the situation. I can’t for the life of me remember it, but now as I write this, the feeling is fading, and it’s time for bed.