Here it is. The entire month of January for the year 2001. Don't you just feel like a part of my life? Doesn't it make you all warm & fuzzy inside to know that I'm sharing a part of myself with you? I know it does. Read on, starting from the bottom.
January 31st, 2001: So, this morning, I had a 7:30 a.m. math exam. I woke up at 4:30. I'm going to tell you that I needed to be up three hours early to get a couple of hours of studying done, but we all know that I just wanted to let my hair dry. I ended up talking to a friend from California over Instant Messenger, so my studying excuse didn't work out. My exam was a joke, though, so my time spent watching Brett Scallions in flare jeans was not wasted. (All men should wear flares, by the way.) My exam lasted until 8:18, so I had 42 minutes to get to linguistics. I arrived there at about 8:35 after walking for a bit with Katie and Rhonda, and there was a class still going on in my classroom, so I sat down to wait at a desk randomly thrown into the hallway. As I tapped my nails on the desk, I looked at the floor and noticed a wandering ant. I watched him walk in circles and wondered if he realised that he was going nowhere. I thought about how the floor must have seemed endless to him, how it would take him years to get wherever he might be going. I wondered if he would let me pick him up and take him to his destination, but I figured that it might be hard for him to communicate to me where he was headed, and I was worried that I would take him in the wrong direction and set him farther back in his journey. Just as I was really starting to feel for the ant and his life of tiny steps, someone walked out of my classroom and just barely missed him. I felt a surge of relief come over me. But then, another person came out of the classroom, and with horror, I saw the shoe cover my dear object of wonder. When the shoe removed itself, though, the ant continued to mill about. I knew that the close call would be enough for him and he would return home, but he seemed to take no notice of the endangering of his life. And that, my friends, was his downfall. For not moments later, another student came and squished the poor ant. I felt a little heartbroken, actually. I really had no attachment to the ant, but I wanted so badly to see him get to where he was going, to gather food and fulfill himself, to have a wife and kids, to own a dog someday. Or not. However, my heartache was short-lived, for a second later, I saw another bug in the same path. This one was round-ish and looked much more able to withstand squishing, so I began silently cheering for him. But it only took one stepping on to flattened the second bug. I wondered how people could continue on with their lives, leaving the classroom and going home, with two bug carcasses just laying on the floor. Yeah, I would have done the same thing.
And while we're on the subject of linguistics class, I'd like to mention a few things:
January 30th, 2001: Upon reading the AOL Instant Messenger Away Message of Jeremy, who professed to behaving like white trash at 8:30 on a Tuesday morning:
Me: Bethany just told me to add you to my List to see your away message.
January 19th, 2001: So, tonight, all of my roommates and I were going to go dancing. We all planned to get drunk and get laid (note the joke), so it was going to prove to be a good evening. I invited my friend Joshua along so that he could provide the action or possibly get some himself. (Wow, would he be hurt if he read that.) So, it was all set. Until it started raining. Until it got cold. Until we realised that rain and cold and dancing clothes don't mix. So, while Marla, Lauren, and Emily went ahead and got drunk and left, Christy, Rhonda, Katie, and I decided to do something different. In fact, we decided to go see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. I parked behind the theatre, and we all walked over to Champps (two "p"s, no apostrophe, Katie) for some garlic mashed potatoes. There were a million people in there, it being a Friday night and all, so I went to the host stand alone while the others stood aside and waited. When I got to the stand, the guy standing there asked how I was, but I couldn't hear him over the noise, so I leaned in and said, "I'm sorry?". He laughed and asked again, clearly thinking that I was an idiot. So, when he asked me how many would be at my table and I told him four, he asked, "Are you sure?" I consulted with my hoes for a moment and then informed that I was, in fact, sure. So, we stood around for a while and I stared at some men until I realised that they were flaming gay, and then we were seated. As soon as we sat down, though, in walked Kenny to wait on a table two away from ours. Kenny went to my high school, and he was one of the guys who everyone loved, because he was just so nice, and so friendly, and so good-looking. I saw Kenny last quarter as I was waiting to go into Spanish class, and we ended up talking for years about high school and Eve6 and what we want to do with our lives, and it turned out that he's in love with Guster, who I call my favourite band most of the time. Incredible. So, Kenny was there, and I kept calling, "Here, Kenny, Kenny, Kenny, Kenny," until Katie complained that it sounded like I was calling a cat, which was the whole idea to begin with.
So, as our waiter came to the table, he introduced himself as Josh and asked what we all wanted to drink. When he got to Katie, he said, "Do I know you? You look so familiar." Katie gave him a "you're a creep" look, so he said, "Well, do you have a sister who goes to OSU? Named Sarah?" Rhonda laughed at his generic choice of names and said that he should have picked something even worse like Jennifer. Josh was totally coming on to Katie. And men don't usually come on to Katie, though the girl is beautiful. So, as we ate our meal, Rhonda told Katie that she would give her a dollar if she asked Josh for his number. I told Rhonda that there was no way that Katie would do it, because Katie's not the type. Katie got visibly angry and said, "You don't even know me," which we all know is totally untrue. So, I said, "I used to know you," which actually made things worse without me realising it. So, when Josh came back to the table to hand us our bills and to gaze at Katie for the 50th time that night, she said, "You know, you do look familiar. Is it possible that I could have your number?" to which Josh replied, "I think it might be possible." Ahh, that Katie; she's a smooth one. However, after he walked away, I said, "She only did it to spite me". I thought it was true at the time. I really did think that she did it just to prove me wrong, to me that she could. But she says that she didn't. So we'll take her word, won't we? Either way, Katie pretty much hated me after that dinner. Josh had put my leftover food in separate boxes, and I didn't really want to have to carry around two boxes for the night, so I asked Katie to hold one for me. She agreed, but when we got up to leave and I handed one to her, she didn't say a word but simply put the box back down on the table. It was quite a gesture. I thought her to be terribly childish, but it was totally something that I would do out of spite, so I almost respected Katie for doing it. It's amazing the things that impress me.
January 8th, 2001: Yesterday, I worked. After three hours of sleep, I got up and went to work. I'm so impressed with myself at times. It always intrigues me that when I get less than five hours of sleep, I always wake up feeling really warm. Not good warm, though. "I haven't had enough sleep" warm. Sick warm. I woke up warm yesterday morning. I thought a little about the events of the night before, but mostly I just concentrated on not falling over in the shower. That's been one of my biggest fears lately. Our whole bathroom is tiled, obviously, so when I'm insanely tired and I close my eyes for a second to just let the water wash over me, I always imagine myself suddenly falling back asleep and hitting my head on the tile ledge that surrounds the shower. The thought of bashing the side of my head in bothers me almost as much as anything else I can think of. So, I avoided that for twenty minutes or so, and after a couple of hours of eating everything in my dorm room that contained sugar, I headed off to work. It was pretty much a normal day, except that Rich was there. Now, Rich isn't one of those guys who I'm going to be instantly obsessed with, but I think he's worth mentioning. You see, Rich was in my philosophy class last quarter, and I was terribly attracted to him in a friendly way more than anything. I used to try to sit by him every week, because he always brought a laptop, and I told him that the tapping of the keys comforted me. I don't think he ever actually took notes on the thing, but I imagine that his Snood score is far better than mine.
So, when I was working on Saturday morning, my supervisor came over to the Guest Services desk and started talking to me about one thing or another. All of the sudden, I felt someone watching me and looked up. There was Rich. Except that I didn't remember that his name is Rich, though I spent all of philosophy class analysing the way he wrote his name on the cards that we made on the first day to help our teacher remember our names. So, since I couldn't remember his name, I just called out, "Hey, you were in my philosophy class!" to him as he walked away. He turned around, smiled, and said, "Yeah." So, naturally, I said, "Yeah," and went back to listening to Ted.
Yesterday, though, I saw Rich again. This time, it was in SimZone. SimZone is basically an arcade that tries to pretend like it fits into a science museum by showing a timeline of gaming that starts with games like Pong and Asteroid. I was in charge of helping out idiot guests who can't read directions, so I was carrying around a set of cards that allowed me to let guests play games for free if their cards were bad or if they let the time expire on their game because they couldn't understand that they're supposed to push the button labeled "Push Me if You Don't Want the Time to Expire on Your Game". I was swinging the cards around by the string that they're attached to, and as I rounded a corner by one of the games, I almost smacked Rich in the face with the cards, which I can honestly say wasn't the first time that had happened. Since I tend to tell people little anecdotes when I don't know them well and need something to say to them, I glanced down at Rich's nametag (which was conveniently (sure) placed on the bottom of his shirt), saw his name, and told him that I had spent all of the day before thinking about him and his laptop. We talked about philosophy class and about how all of his non-note-taking left him with an A in the class and about how I regretted not offering my body to my professor in order to make the class a little easier on me. That led to me asking him why he was there, and it turned out that darn it, he's working COSI's Camp-Ins, a program that lets girl and boy scout troops spend the night inside of COSI. Rich is a funny guy. My type is obviously the Gap-y, thrift store cool guy, but Rich usually wears all black with this huge metal chain link fence-looking choker thing. During our class together, I had him pegged as a seemingly sweet child molester. Somehow, though, he seemed so innocent and loving as a Camp-In man. Too bad his name isn't Ben. (That was all for you, Ben-yon.)
So, to finish this off, later in the day, I was hanging out at Little Kidspace. Now, as we all know, kids are only allowed in LKS if they haven't entered kindergarten yet. No big deal, right? I wish. Parents just don't understand that LKS is called a protected area because only infants, toddlers, and pre-schoolers can go in with their adults, and because of this, they can't get run over by older children. Plus, the gates in and out of the area are locked, and only I can open them with the push of a button when an adult presents me with a ticket that states how many children they brought in with them. In this way, no one can take extra kids or leave kids behind. Genius, if you ask me. So, a man came up to the in gate with his two kids and kind of pushed on it to go in. I let him do that for a few seconds just to make him feel inadequate and then told him that the door was magic and only I could control it. Nothing like making the parents feel like they're four years old again, I always say. I asked if both of his children are in pre-school, and at first he said yes but then corrected himself and told me that one of them is in kindergarten. I told him that that was fine and explained that we have a Hang-Out Room where older kids can play while their younger siblings explore the area. He told me that they were all just going back to the café part of LKS to eat, but I told him that his older child would have to stay in the Hang-Out Room. He said, "Come on. She's so close . . . " I said, "Sir, it's our policy not to allow older children into the area where younger children play. I hate to turn you away like this . . . " But I got no more out, because he interrupted me and said, "I think you just did. I think you just did turn us away. We're members of COSI!" He gave me an angry look and waited around as if that was going to make me alter the policy for him or something, so I smiled and waved good-bye to him. I really the childish wave. It makes me feel so superior. As the family walked away, the man said to the kids, "Sorry, but the STUPID LADY won't let us in." Stupid lady? Priceless.
January 7th, 2001: So, after work yesterday, I went home for a little get-together at Tracey's house in honour of her birthday. I picked up Katie, a.k.a The BIG K.N., and we went on our way. I didn't want to go to Tracey's. I wanted to go back up to OSU and talk to Jarred after the events that occurred last night. But I couldn't just ignore the fact that one of my best friends was giving herself a party. I didn't buy her a gift, though. It's not that I didn't want to buy her a gift, and I WILL buy her a gift eventually, but I had decided a day in advance that I was going to play the part of the uncaring friend from back home at the party, so the lack of gift was part of the costume. I'm not sure why I thought that I had to play a part, but it's certainly more fun that way. Katie and I arrived a little more than an hour late just to show how we felt about being there. As we got out of the car, we decided to stay until no later than 8:30, which would give us just enough time to show that we still like Tracey even though we no longer actually know her but not enough time to bond with the new college friends. I was so not about the new college friends. It's not that I particularly disliked them, but it's my job as old best friend to not approve of them, to wonder how she could have gone from hanging out with me to hanging out with THEM.
So, Gladys greeted us, and I'm sure that I said something to show my general distaste for all of the goings-on while she told us to go down to the basement. As we walked down the stairs, Tracey said something about wondering who the newcomers were, and as soon as we turned to face the group, I saw Angel and Erica, a couple of friends from high school who I haven't seen since summer. Katie and I hugged them and were all excited in order to create a spectacle of ourselves in front of the new people. We grabbed some seats away from the rest of the group, and Tracey introduced us to everyone. I knew Justin from my Spanish class last quarter, Ryan from some random meetings and phone calls that involved me asking him if he's gay, Brian from his dirty obsession with Tracey that led to me picking them up from the ballet late one Saturday night to avoid her getting raped by him, Dayna from my first day at OSU and the fact that she's one of Tracey's roommates, and Samantha from her being Tracey's other best friend since before time began. I met Chris for the first time, though I had already heard all about him from Tracey. I was really proud of Katie for playing her part and not jumping up and hugging all of them and attempting to make them like her right off the bat. We basically just talked to each other and to Angel and Erica. After we were about five minutes into the ordeal, I leaned over and asked Katie if she was ready to go yet, and we both giggled.
Bethany came after a while, so she joined our little group, and Tracey couldn't resist us anymore after that, so she abandoned the new people and came over to us. Then, suddenly, nearly everyone was gathered in the one big circle that began with Katie and me, and they were all tossing balloons back and forth into the air. They all kept flying toward me, but I refused to take part in the little activity, so all of the balloons kept hitting the ground and angering everyone. And that, my friends, is the essence of me. All of us old people talked a bit about the olden days until a game of euchre erupted, so Tracey and Bethany left us, but Justin came over for a bit, so we discussed my wretched Spanish class and his fabulous one. It grew suddenly cold in the basement, so the whole party was moved upstairs for some cake-cutting.
I continued to play my part by not singing during the traditional birthday song. I actually felt a little guilty about it when Tracey looked over at me and saw that I was making no move to act decently, but I just couldn't get myself into it. I loved how totally into it Sam was, though. It amazes me that Tracey can even be friends with both Sam and me. Sam has to make herself fit in or else she gets all depressed, but I make people fit in with me. I denied the cake, and as the gifts were being opened, Katie and I just stood back and talked instead of paying attention. But then something happened. I started talking to Ryan. I don't know how it happened, and I didn't want it to happen, but it happened all the same. It was bad. It was very bad. It somehow led to me leading him back the hall to Tracey's bedroom so that we could pretend to have sex. Bethany burst in on us, so our rendezvous was cut short, but what had taken place was enough to make me forget my love for my character, and I became someone new. Just that little bit of faux sex made me suddenly sit on the couch with Brian and talk to him, too. Actually, I made fun of him more than I actually talked to him, but all the same. Actually, I made fun of all of her friends. I somehow didn't care what they thought of me, but oh, I told them exactly what I thought of them. I critiqued noses and chins, hair and teeth. Justin thought that there must be something wrong with him, since I refused to say anything bad about him. Ryan even took a guitar away from one of the seven Dave Matthews-wannabes and made up a deliciously evil song about me. I actually really like Ryan after last night. He plays the same sort of games that I do, which is sort of exciting, because most people just don't get my games. I'm really glad that Tracey has someone like that around her, someone to fill in for me while I'm away, or someone to take my place in case I never come back. It's just comforting.
I really don't know what happened to Katie and me, but we totally ended up enjoying ourselves. We ended up staying until 11:30, which you'll notice was three hours later than we had planned. We still had about 800 things to do before going back up to OSU, so we got up to leave and gave everyone hugs. Ryan said something about me being in his crotch, since he was sitting cross-legged on a stool, and Justin liked the smell or the feel of my leather coat or something, but other than that, it was very uneventful until I got to Brian. For some reason, after I had called him a dirty, old pervert, a rapist, and a big-headed midget (okay, maybe not the last one, though Tracey did give me the soundtrack to Gummo for Christmas), I told him that I felt like licking his nose. And I did. Ryan licked my nose, then. Funny how those things seem normal as they're happening.
Katie and I stopped at her house, stopped at my house, and stopped at Kroger, where we parked diagonal across three spaces, because it was one o'clock or so. Kroger is scary at night, let me tell you. Katie actually soiled her pants at one point, if I remember correctly. There were boxes strewn along all of the isles, and dirty, old men were stocking shelves with pickles and Jesus candles. It was frightening as all get-out. We grabbed our whatnot and got out, and we arrived back at OSU about three hours after I should have been in bed, for I had to work the next day. But I didn't go to bed. Instead, I went up to see Jarred. I have no idea why, and I can't recall him saying anything that led me up to his room, but I just told Katie that I would "be right back", and I left. When I got to Jarred's room, he was sitting at his computer, doing something. I sat there and said nothing, so he turned around and said, "Is Mikey still here?" See, Jarred has to call Mike "Mikey", because he so obviously wants me and can't handle that there are constantly other men coming to see me. When I told him that "Mikey" had gone home last night, Jarred got up from his chair and said, "Come with me." I didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't what I got. He grabbed some week-old pizza out of a box that was laying on his table, offered me some, and asked if I wanted to play a video game with him. I wasn't in the mood for anything other than Mario Kart, which absolutely no one has, so I declined, and we sat. Jarred grabbed the ranch dressing from inside of the pizza box and pretended to lick the container while making the most disgusting mouth noises I've ever heard. I always love the mood of our sits. I so love that he's one of those guys who can just sit there and pretend not to be bored if I don't have anything to say. I always have things to say to him, but I can never actually say them when I have a chance. It's even worse when we designate a time as "talking time", because then there's so much pressure that everything feels too forced and nothing happens. Our dorm is perfect for talks late at night, though, because everything is so brown-ish. The walls and floors are covered in brown carpet. Everything is wood-y and 70's-like. The lights are dim enough to create the perfect atmosphere for just sitting. So, there I was, just sitting on the couch with the sinking seats, switching my gaze from Jarred to the pizza, which I thought was going to suddenly grow moldy and explode at any time. Then, in walked Ashley. I don't know Ashley at all, though I think she came to a gathering that Bethany had earlier in the year. Ashley has curly hair that drives me insane. I have curly hair, and I keep exceptionally good care of it, so women who walk around with it all dirty and non-curly make me crazy. So, Ashley came in and sat down. No one said anything until Jarred asked her to bring out his guitar. Now, we all know how I feel about guitars, but we also know how I feel about Jarred, so it wasn't a big deal when he started playing. But then Ashley left and Jarred said something, something that made me mad. So, I got up to go back downstairs, my usual reaction to his whatnot. He followed me out into the hall to stop me, so I decided to give him another chance not to be his usual self and stood in the stairwell doorway (which smelled of chicken noodle soup, I might add), half-leaving, half-staying. Jarred didn't really have anything to say, so he just started playing Blackbird, which he knows is my favourite Beatles song. When I proclaimed for the 500th time that it's my favourite Beatles song, he said that his is Day Tripper and then decided on Julia instead. Jarred somehow ended up on the floor of the hallway then, so I took advantage of his vulnerable position and asked him personal questions that he would never tell me the answers to if he was totally awake and alive - why he doesn't trust people, why he thinks he's such a bad person, etc. I then asked him to open my lip gloss, which Dayna had conveniently pounded shut rather than simply screwed shut at Tracey's house. He grabbed it, looked at it, and called it "lip shizine" (It was Gap Lip Shine; get it? No, didn't expect that you would.) before deciding to lick it. Yes, lick it. Please don't ask. I don't know, either. We somehow got on the topic of him being terribly, terribly alone, and he asked how things are with "Mikey". I told him that he wasn't too happy to see me last night, and he told me that he was sorry that we had a fight. I told him that it wasn't a fight, and he called it a pseudo-fight. I told him that it was pseudo nothing, that we parted on good terms. He said, "That's good," but all know that he was actually thinking, "Please, God, no! She's mine! She's all mine!" (Yeah, you do realise that I'm kidding about that, right?) Ahh, my sweet life. Jarred had to go around three a.m. and said, "I should have left long ago." I knew exactly what he meant, but instead of taking in the way he meant it to be taken, I said, "Ouch. That hurt," in my totally uncaring voice and told him goodnight. As I was heading back to my room, I heard him get up from the floor, open the door to the stairs, and say something, but I couldn't hear what, so I went back to the bottom of the stairs and looked up to where he was standing. He explained that he meant that he should have left because he told me too much, not because he didn't want to see me. I said, "Thanks. I appreciate that," in the driest tone of voice that I could muster and went back to my room, where I promptly fell asleep.
January 6th, 2001: So, yesterday in linguistics, Katie and I passed each other notes when we got bored. Notes. Can you imagine? We're so high school. College is so high school. I'm taking all of the same classes that my friends are taking just so we can spend all day together; I'm not doing any work whatsoever; I'm getting up hours before my classes just because. High school was cool. College is cool.
According to Christy, I'm having some weirdness in my Jarred relationship because I'm unwilling to lower myself to his level, whatever that means. Today, for instance, Christy and I were arguing over who's the taller of the two of us. We've had this argument before, and Jarred measured us last time to set the record straight. So, I Instant Messaged him and said, "Hey, question when you have a chance." Somehow, he interpreted this to mean that I seriously wanted to talk to him, so he couldn't just message me back. Oh, no. He came down to my room. However, there were about 400 people in my suite room, so he refused to come in, and instead, I had to go out into the hall to talk to him. Before I did, though, I asked, "What are you doing here?" Probably not the best thing to say, but I was a bit surprised by his effort nonetheless. It was possibly the most vulnerable that I've ever seen Jarred. I was in total control being the one who had an unimportant question and him being the one who thought we were going to talk talk. Christy had been working on getting film into my new camera all the while, so she brought it out to me when she was finished, and Jarred, being scared of cameras, ran away. So, I took some pictures of Christy, and when I was done, she said, "I don't know if you realise how mean you are to Jarred. He's so self-conscious, and for him to come down here after you and have you reject him publicly like that . . . " It really kind of hurt me to think that I may actually be doing that to people I care about. I mean, I obviously realise that I'm doing it, but I never want to embarrass anyone. It's just that as Jarred once quoted, "The person who cares least in a relationship controls the relationship." I don't need to be the controller, but I don't want to feel controlled. I worry that giving too much lets him have control over me, but I hate feeling like I have to hold some of me back, because after all, there's nothing more important to me in a relationship than honesty. I think Jarred has just as many problems with Mike as I have with his non-women, too. (And I mean non-women in the sense that he's all over them, but he's not actually with any of them. I don't mean to imply that they're men or anything.) I was talking to Jarred when Mike arrived last night, and I asked him if we could talk sometime this weekend. He replied, "I suppose, if you are sure you wanna take the time." I asked, "What does that mean?", and he said, "Just what I said. Implying that I am not worth the time, not implying that you wouldn't want to." Now, that may have nothing to do with the fact that I had just told him that Mike was there, but I think that he needs to be wanted or wants to be needed just as badly as I do. He called it his wall, his "defense talking again", which I don't doubt.
I just expected things with Mike to be perfect this time around, because they were so near perfect over Christmas. I ate dinner with his family, I bonded further with his sister by letting her wear my boots (and found out that even though she's only in 6th grade, we wear the same size of shoes), we watched The Virgin Suicides and discussed life, as usual; there was no weirdness whatsoever. Mike can be very mentally abusive at times, though, and it seems to be times when we're around people, which leads me to believe that he does it just to show off, though I'm sure that he doesn't realise that that's the case. Mike describes his abusive as "cheerful", saying that he does it in a way that lets me know that he's kidding. He started in as soon as he got here, but I really don't let things get to me, so he did seem cheerful to me. He sat on my papasan and made fun of my music collection while we tried to decide where to go. I had invited Katie and her boyfriend, Steve, to go along with us, and they were interested in seeing All the Pretty Horses, and so was I, but more than that, I wanted to see Quills. So, we picked out a movie time and debated about where to eat as Mike got on my computer and I sat in the papasan. We fake argued about his leaving for Chicago and foregoing Tracey's birthday party tonight until he started complaining about how hot it was in my room, but something was wrong with the thermostat, so I could do nothing about it. It started really getting to him, though, and he said, "It's hot in here." Actually, he said it about eight times. Then, finally, he said, "It's so DAMN hot in here." I said, "What did you just say?", to which he replied, "What? I said it's hot in here." I freaked out. Not only is he now cussing, but he didn't even realise that he's cussing. It ripped me apart, but he just looked at me and acted as if it didn't matter at all. At first I thought that I was just disappointed in him, because I've always respected him for being able to resist the temptation to act just like his friends, but I realised later that I was scared of what he's becoming. He said that he just picked it up at school. I really feel like I'm much the same person here at OSU that I was this summer or even as a senior in high school, but it seems like all of my friends have changed drastically since graduating. Maybe I'm just mad at myself for not becoming someone else, but I'm really happy with who I am, and I always have been. I think I'm just worried that Mike's going to outgrow me. Maybe Mike outgrew me long ago and that's why we constantly disagree about everything. Or maybe I outgrew him. Actually, that seems more likely. That can't be right, though, because I feel like I love him madly. Let's think on that while we continue.
It was just supposed to be Katie, Steve, Mike, and me, but since my roommate, Christy, was going out with some friends, I invited one of my suitemates, Rhonda, out with us so that she wouldn't be left alone in our dorm. That was all settled until Christy decided that she wanted to go, too. I had invited her earlier, but she had turned me down, I told her that she was no longer invited. She couldn't believe that I would uninvite her, but I made it very clear that I didn't want her coming with us. I was kidding, of course, but I wanted to see how serious she would take me. So, as we were leaving our dorm, she kept asking me if I really didn't want her coming along, and I kept glaring at her and telling her that I was never going to speak to her again if she came with us. She came anyway. We ended up deciding to eat at Johnny Rockets, but since it was a Friday night, Katie and Steve got the last parking place available in front of the place. We looked around the little shopping centre, and there were millions of places near Target, but it was so far away from the theatre and Johnny Rockets, so when Mike asked me if we should park there, I simply said, "It's up to you." Katie and Steve ended up going inside and saving us a table while we drove around for probably 20 minutes, not finding a single spot. We finally ended up over at Target, and Mike called me several names because it was apparently my fault that we didn't park there in the first place. Of course.
When we got inside, Mike, Rhonda, Christy, and I all had to go to the bathroom, so we left the table and went together. It was a single-stalled bathroom, so Christy went in first, while Rhonda and I stood outside and waited. We ended up talking about Mike's abusiveness and how she thinks I deserve better than him and how we're obviously so perfect for each other yet he treats me like his sister and all kinds of other whatnot that led to a very inappropriate comment on my part. And when I say inappropriate, I mean dirty, sexual inappropriate. We laughed until I realised that he was in the bathroom not more than 3 feet away from us. I threw myself onto the floor and curled up into a fetal position, covering myself in baby highchairs so that I was invisible to anyone exiting the bathroom. Okay, so I didn't actually do that, because we're talking about the floor of a dirty restaurant here, folks, but I wanted to kill myself all the same. I started hoping that perhaps the fan inside of the bathroom was incredibly loud and Mike couldn't hear what was going on outside, but when he came out, he smiled at us in a very uncharacteristically Mike way. I was still hopeful that he just felt like smiling for no reason, but when it was my turn to use the bathroom, I made Rhonda and Christy talk in normal tones of voice, and I could totally hear everything that they were saying. I didn't want to go back to the table with Mike. I begged Rhonda and Christy to allow me to go home and slowly torture myself to death, but they wouldn't hear of it. So we went back to the table. And Mike didn't say a word, God love him.
When we got to the theatre, we already had our tickets, so we just went right in, stopping only for a bathroom break. We expected that no one would be seeing Quills, so we weren't worried about getting a seat, but we should have been, apparently. The theatre was nearly full save a random scattered seat or two in the middle and six seats on the very front row. And when I say the very front row, I'm not talking about a row that's 20 feet back from the screen. I'm talking about maybe 3 feet back. When we stood up, we blocked the projector from getting the pciture to the screen. It was bad. Mike and Christy went crazy trying to find another place for us to sit, but there just weren't six seats together anywhere else. So, I just decided that I was going to forget where I was sitting and enjoy the movie anyway. But Christy couldn't do that. And she had it in her mind that she wasn't going to go quietly. She found an empty seat and BEGGED Rhonda to come with her so that she wouldn't be alone. But Rhonda is evidently not so prone to abandoning her friends, so she wouldn't budge. I was proud of her. I really didn't think it was that bad up front, but I'm sure that I only felt that way because I convinced myself that I wasn't going to feel any other way. The movie was good, old-fashioned, erotic fun. I enjoyed every minute of it. Fabulous acting. Great writing. Joaquin Phoenix. But I couldn't stop thinking about Christy leaving us. Actions like that drive me insane. People who are only concerned about their own well-being drive me insane. She wasn't even actually invited to go along with us, and yet, she was the first to leave. When we left the theatre, I was still angry and refused to speak to her, so I guess I'm as childish as she is, but still. I'm writing this, though, so you're forced take my side no matter what, you realise.
When we got back to OSU, there were no parking places on the side of the dorm that I usually park on, so Rhonda and Christy went on in while I took Mike around to the other side. When we got up to my room, he was acting sort of weird, so I asked him why he was there. He asked, "Why AM I here? I'll go home if you want me to." But I didn't want him to, and I told him so. So he stayed for a moment, but it was very uncomfortable, so he finally said that he needed to get some sleep for his trip back to Chicago and got up. I tried to talk him into staying one more night for Tracey's party, but there was nothing that he could do about it, so he just gave me a hug (one of the best to date, I might add), and I followed him out to the elevator. My friend Jonathan was standing outside of his room, so I got caught up in talking with him and didn't get to say much else to Mike, but that's probably all for the best. I can't say what I want to say. I don't think I'll try.
January 4th, 2001: So, second day of classes yesterday. I had my 9:00 linguistics class for the first time, since I only have it on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Katie and I have it together, which is nice. We have this crazy, little Chinese teacher named Gao who compares everything we talk about to Chinese and Japanese whatnot. Today, he asked if anyone knows Japanese, and a single guy raised his hand. He then went into a four-hour speech about how a language is logical if the people who speak it understand one another. The Japanese-knowing guy asked if Japanese makes sense, since there's no phrase that means, "How are you?" I tuned out the answer, because wow, was that hot. I mean, here's this total geek who wears nothing but tennis shoes and wind pants and has girl writing, and yet, he knows Japanese. People don't just KNOW Japanese. I'll bet he knows Kung Fu, too.
I have my math lecture with one of my friends from back home, Sam. See, now as I see it, Sam and I should have been together all through high school. Actually, I think Sam wanted me both junior and senior years, and we did go see a movie together and hang out at his house and all, but I don't know. I mean, maybe I'm totally wrong about all of this and he merely took me out and invited me to his house as a friend, but I never got the friend vibe from him. So, he happens to be in my math lecture. I came in a little later than everyone else yesterday, since I had to walk from linguistics, so I just grabbed a seat on the side and started to put my stuff down. Just as I took my coat off, though, I heard someone saying my name. I turned around and looked at the people in the rows behind me, and there was Sam, sprawled out in the pseudo cool way that he always is. He said, "What are you doing here?" I said, "I don't know; taking a class?" I'm so harsh. We went on like that for a minute or two, him saying nice things and asking questions, me being me. I ended up picking up all of my whatnot and going to sit by him, which I should have known was going to be a mistake. See, Sam and I are very different. Too different. All of the things I admire myself for not doing, Sam does. I think he just has such low self-esteem that he constantly needs to try to show off. For instance, my cell phone kept going in and out of service yesterday, so I just pulled it out of my bag (made of fake fur, I might add) and turned it off. I wasn't intending for him to notice it and think I was incredible or anything, because hello, everyone I know has one; I just needed to turn the dang thing off so its beeping wouldn't bother people. However, as soon as I put mine away, Sam got his out and told me the entire story of the acquiring of it as he made me admire it. Then, in the middle of class, he whipped it out again and began hitting buttons, which made the phone beep, which made everyone turn around and look at us. Don't get me wrong. Sam is great. And he would make an absolutely fantastic husband or boyfriend or whatever, because he's ferociously caring and considerate. I hope he marries Tracey.
I passed Ryan on my way to math today. Ryan happens to be Jarred's roommate. It was odd, since I still haven't told Jarred that I don't hate him. I'm sure that he knows, though. He's like a freaking addiction, and he totally realises that I'm addicted to him. I still don't think he's as bad as Mike, though. And I think I can stop at any time, too. Although, Jarred's more real since he lives 10 stairs away rather than 350 miles away. However, Mike's coming here on Friday, so that should be good. Oh, yes. It should.
January 3rd, 2001: So, classes began for me back at the big Ohio State University yesterday. I had math at 10:30, and being the eager-to-learn little dumpling that I am (Wow, did anyone else notice that I just described myself as a "dumpling"?), I showed up at 10:14 and found my room at 10:15. My entire class appeared to be there waiting already, but the class before us hadn't let out, so they were all just standing around. However, at 10:16, the room had completely cleared out, and yet everyone was still just standing there, making no move to go in. I began to think that maybe I was in the wrong place or something, so I pulled out my schedule, saw that the room number was correct, and made a move toward the door. As soon as I stepped inside of the room, everyone got up from their seats on the floor and followed me in. It was such a total power trip for me.
I knew that the class was going to be interesting, because my Teaching Assistant's (TA) first words to us were, "My name is Ernesto Machado. People fuck it up all of the time, so don't worry about it." There's nothing like a good "f-bomb" (in the words of my friend Ben) to start the day off, I always say. I like Ernesto quite a bit. He looks like he could easily be 17 years old, and he has that annoying yellow hair on top, black on bottom thing going on. Plus, one of his eyelashes is blonde, while the other is black. It's so odd. And he can't say the word "subtract". It kind of freaks me out. He says "substract". Amazing how idiotic a single extra "s" can make you sound. But I have a feeling that I'm going to do well in the class. Projected Grade: If I get off my butt and do my homework, I'll easily get an A or an A-. Otherwise, I'll have a C. We'll see.
I came back to my dorm room at 11:30 to wait for my chem lecture at 1. At 11:45, a maintenance man knocked on the door to my suite room and yelled, "Maintenance!" to let us know that he was coming in. I was wearing little to no clothes, but I knew that no one else was in a position to answer the door, so I came out. The maintenance men are so hot it hurts. You know that they're total perverts, though, hanging out in girls' bedrooms, pretending to fix whatnot all day long. The maintenance guy looked at me and then asked for Lauren, one of my suitemates. She had evidently put in a request to have a light fixed in our bathroom, so I pointed him in that direction and left him alone. When he was finished there, he told me that he was also supposed to fix the light in Lauren's room, and knowing that the guys who work on our computers have to have someone with them when they go into a room, I asked if he needed me to go to the bedroom with him. He kind of gave me a look and said, "We don't need someone to be with us, but come on in." So, I followed him into Lauren's room and grabbed a trash can for him when he needed to clean off the light, which he didn't thank me for. However, the way he looked in his uniform was thanks enough. I so thought that he was just going to ask me to take him right on Lauren's bed. I mean, it was right there, and it was just asking to be used. (Sorry that you had to read that, Lauren. I probably would have used Marla's bed instead just to spite her. Touch the orgasm scarf again and I'll cut off your big toe, woman.) But alas, he said that he had to go and told me to have a great day. Someday I will have that maintenance man. Oh, yes. I will.
At 12:30, my friend-from-high-school-turned-suitemate Katie and I left for chem lecture. We didn't sign up for the same class on purpose, but it's going to be nice having someone to sit and make fun of everyone with. My friend Dave and I did purposely sign up for the class together, however. Dave and I became acquainted in an interesting way, actually. I was supposed to go out with a couple of friends one Saturday night, but I didn't end up going and instead stayed up late talking to Bethany's roommate. However, when she got stale (not that you could ever be stale, Manders), I got onto Bethany's AOL Instant Messenger and picked out a random name, because what's better than some late night cybersex, really? I said, "Hey. This isn't Bethany. Who are you?" He said nothing, so I had to add, "Don't be scared, little one," and that did it. He turned out to be a friend of Ryan and Sandy and some other men who you don't know, so boom, we were friends. He and Bethany are totally going to get married, by the way. They're so cute together that it's sick. But on the first day of chem, Dave came in late, so he missed talk of significant figures and the like. Highly entertaining stuff, let me tell you. Projected Grade: An A, only because I really need it, since chem is sure to be important in my medical future. I WILL get the A.
Directly after that, I high-tailed it on over to my Spanish class. Now, Spanish in high school consisted of doing book work and learning about tapas and toilets for me. So, testing out of two classes and getting into Spanish 103.66, a combination of 102 and 103, was a bit of a shock. Quite frankly, 103.66 last quarter was as scary as all get out. However, I made some awesome friends, including Johnna, who will always be known as "my lesbian friend" to everyone except Johnna herself (and she's not a lesbian, mind you), and Jarett, who has one of the most attractive full names that I've ever heard and also makes me laugh like no other man I know. So, I decided to go ahead and take Spanish 104 to get my requirement done with and never be forced to speak a word of Spanish again. Well, it was a good idea in theory. My TA introduced herself as Raiza and then went into crazy amounts of Spanish at a rate that no human should ever be allowed to speak. When she called my name to see if I was present, I didn't tell her to call me Katie instead of Kathleen, because she had threatened us with extra homework if we spoke English, and I was too nervous to construct any sort of coherent Spanish sentence. It didn't help that the room was full and I was stuck sitting right in front of her desk. At one point, she wanted to demonstrate the act of bargaining, so she put an eraser on my desk and started pointing to it crazily and talking to me about it. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just said "borrador" and smiled at her in that "Get away from me. Can't you see that I hate you already?" way that I do. She eventually just gave up on me and moved onto a different topic, and I began counting the minutes until the end of class shortly thereafter. My personal favourite part of the class was when Raiza began showing us "Ways to Learn Spanish" on the overhead projector and she stood directly in front of me, thereby blocking my view. Clearly the person with the least clue about what was going on, and she blocked my view. Priceless. Projected Grade: Zero. Nothing. Nada. A big, dirty F. But no. I will get myself at least a B+. I will accept defeat and retake the class if I get less than a B+. Okay, that's a lie. But it's something to shoot for, at least.
The day was doubly worse when coupled with the fact that Jarred and I weren't speaking at that point. (Meet Jarred in April 28th, 2000.) Actually, Jarred was speaking, but I wasn't speaking back. It's odd how it happened, really. Bethany I went to Target on Sunday night for some hangers and paper plates, and as we were coming back, Jarred was getting out of a car with Ryan and his friend Molly. He randomly called out a hello to us, but we couldn't see well enough in the darkness to make him out, so Bethany asked, "Who are you?" He said something like, "Fine. Be that way." I think I was jealous of him riding home with Molly or something equally as ridiculous at the time, so I just stared at him with my most "I don't need you" look when we walked up the stairs together and he said hello to me again. That's one of my worst downfalls. I do a whole lot of pretending. It takes a whole lot to so much as make me dislike someone, so I certainly didn't hate Jarred at the time. I have no idea why I would act as if I did. I guess it's my way of having fun - messing with other people's minds. But he does the same thing, so let's just blame him for all of this and pretend that I'm innocent. So, I did a whole lot of ignoring until I got Jarred to say something about me apparently not wanting to spend any time with him. I'm kind of interested to see where this leads. I always worry that my game-playing is going to end with people taking me seriously and me losing friends, but the consequences never seem as bad as the games are fun. However, I know that I would just kick myself if I actually lost of friend by my own faults. Ahh, the joys of being me.
January 1st, 2001: There will be a New Year's Eve story here shortly. Look for it.
1) I'm only taking the class to impress Ben. You don't know Ben, but if you did, you would want to impress him, too. Ben is a linguistics major. Ben and I are going to be wed and will honeymoon in Walt Disney World.
2) My linguistics teacher wears the same pants and vest every day. I mean, really. He usually wears a different shirt under the vest, but it's just not happening for him. The white tennis shoes with the black dress pants are a nice touch, I might add.
3) My teacher always says "but however" when starting sentences. Example: "You would think that I could find more than one of these lame vests to wear every day. But however, I refuse to, for I am Chinese and proud." One or the other, my friend. One or the other!
4) My teacher can speak English nearly fluently, but being Chinese, still has some problems spelling English words, but he tries to cover it up. For example, today in class, he was explaining the Regularity Hypothesis and tried to write the words on the board, but he clearly had no idea how to spell "hypothesis". He got the "h" down, stopped for a second to think, mumbled a bit to himself, erased the "h", and said, "Well, you get the idea." I liked it a lot.
Me: I'm intrigued.
Me: I mean, I know the things that make one white trash.
Me: Having a baby at age 12.
Me: Buying $3.96 vodka.
Me: Wearing tapered-leg jeans.
Me: Bowling.
Me: But I don't know that you could be doing any of those at this moment.
Me: Maybe the baby part, now that I think of it.
Jeremy: hey
Me: Good morning.
Jeremy: about the white trash message
Me: So you do have a baby?
Jeremy: no, however you did leave out many key ingredients to white trashdom
Jeremy: for example, having a tatoo, while watching pro-wrestling
Jeremy: the use of any type of smoke-less tobacco
Me: Oh, whoa, I totally forgot pro-wrestling.
Me: Driving a big truck with a confederate flag on it.
Jeremy: owning a car that doesn't run, but just sits in the driveway/yard
Me: Having an old outhouse in your back yard . . . Oh, wait. I have one of those.
Jeremy: having more than one friend who goes by bubba
Jeremy: and so you see, i was quite busy at 8:30 this morning being white trash
Me: My roommate says "liking Hooters".
Me: So, what exactly were you doing?
Jeremy: sleeping
Me: So only white trash sleeps?
Me: My roommate also says "truck derbies".
Me: Derbies?
Me: That's a stupid word.
Jeremy: but i have a tatoo, a car that doesn't work, 3 friends named bubba, and i watched wrestling before going to bed and i've been to a monster truck "rally"
Me: Ahh, yes, a rally.
Me: Much better word.
Me: How can one possibly have three friends named Bubba?
Me: And you have a tattoo?
Me: I have two friends named Bubba, actually.
Jeremy: yes i do
Me: Wow, I didn't realise how near-white trash I am.
Jeremy: and 3 of friends go by the name bubba
Jeremy: near as in proximity or near as in you almost are?
Me: I almost am.
Me: I have a car that sits in my yard, but it runs, though no one ever runs it.
Jeremy: see mine doesn't run, EVER
Me: I probably am white trash, come to think of it.
Me: I guess white trash doesn't have to be poor.
Jeremy: not at all
Me: My dad sells crack, you know.
Jeremy: well now the crack usually puts you in another category
Me: Oh, what am I, then?
Jeremy: crack dealing usually makes you a hood rat
Me: What?! I've never heard of anyone called that.
Jeremy: the white trash kids usually stick to their daddy's weed
Me: Ahh, well, my dad's way past the weed
Jeremy: you've never heard the term hood rat
Me: I haven't.
Jeremy: i'm sorry you are uncultured
Me: I think that's just something you made up. Not even my non-showering roommate has heard of it.
Jeremy: you two are crazy
Jeremy: you know what the "hood" is?
Me: Of course.
Jeremy: you know what a "rat" is?
Me: I suppose. And they go together wonderfully.
Jeremy: yes and thus the birth of the term "hood rat"
Me: Well, I'm not from the hood, though. I'm from Ashville, for God's sake.
Jeremy: ahhh, but hood rat and white trash have less to do with where you are from and more to do with who you are.
Me: Wow, that hurts.
Jeremy: no, no, it shouldn't
Me: I want to be a rat?
Jeremy: well, not necessarily, but geographic location can not rule it out
Me: But shouldn't money do it?
Jeremy: no, not really
Jeremy: lots of rich people are white trash
Me: That really does hurt.
Jeremy: being white trash is not something to be ashamed of
Me: But I've always mocked the white trash of Ashville.
Jeremy: and yet now you find yourself knee-deep in it
Me: I'm so not knee-deep. I'm possibly ankle-deep.
Jeremy: denial is the first stage
Jeremy: it's ok
Me: So, what are you, then? Chest-deep?
Jeremy: neck-deep
Me: Wow.
Me: And you seem so satisfied with it.
Jeremy: it's like being an alcoholic
Jeremy: once you've admitted that you are one, it gets much easier
Me: Because I can then revel in my white trashdom?
Jeremy: yes
Me: And if I don't want to?
Jeremy: no matter how hard you try it will always pull you back
Me: I won't let it.
Jeremy: at some point you will find yourself at a hog callin contest or some other white trash event and this conversation will come rushing back to you and you will realize that you are stuck
Me: You know, strangely, my dad raises hogs.
Me: I should just stop denying it.
Jeremy: see there you go
Me: But we have money!
Me: That has to mean something.
Me: It just can't not.
Jeremy: IT DOES NOT MATTER
Me: Why are you doing this to me?!
Jeremy: someone has to tell you the truth
Me: Why did it take this long?
Jeremy: it takes a strong person to profess the truth in the face of soooo much adversity, as i have
Me: I am strong.
