Times are Happy and the People are Prosperous.
Hey. I’ll start this with something like a disclaimer. Actually, I’ll start with several quasi-disclaimers. First, I want to make absolutely clear that my absence from lj has been because of time constraints and the infrequency and brevity of my comments on my friends’ pages are not necessarily indicative of anything personal, but rather reflect my general detachment from livejournal in general. Also, a lot of new and interesting (IMHO) stuff has happened since my last update, so this entry will be more personal than most. I’m not writing in such vivid detail about my semester to demonstrate how cool I think I am (I don’t), but because I feel like some people may be entertained by the past events. Basically, I’m hoping that reading this entry will help explain why I haven’t updated for so long. So much has happened and I can’t really generate the cognitive distance necessary to adequately analyze while I’m still very much immersed in experiences. In addition, the faint of heart should probably skip the part of this entry in which I talk about September, as it is a fear-fraught tale. Finally, this is really, really long, so I’ve tried (and failed) to break it up into as rational as possible sections.
So this entry was at one point double its current size. Unfortunately, MS Word lost all of my more recent additions (FUCK YOU MICROSOFT!). This leads to one last disclaimer; namely, omission of explicit mention of anyone’s names/actions does not reflect unimportance to me or the semester, but rather my own laziness/inability to remember everything precisely. So for the most part, I’ve avoided lj shout-outs so as not to offend those whom I might miss. What was lost included: the entire narrative of November (This part was really important. Basically, my parents showed a surprising level of awesome during Parent’s Weekend. Also, www.highlanderband.org . Then I began celebrating my birthday celebrations for roughly two weeks. During this time, several awesome individuals did several amazingly awesome things. The vast majority I will leave nameless for fear of forgetting some (I was detailed in the original), but I absolutely must give credit where credit is due by thanking Brian. (I had a really nice thank you paragraph that I’ll try to replicate as best as I can from memory. Here goes. *********Dear Brian, You are indeed, the awesomest of awesomes. Thank you so much for planning, coordinating, providing for, and doing all the behind-the-scenes work for my surprise birthday party. Also, thank you for rewriting the Internationale into a birthday song. I owe you an un-repayable debt (which I fully intend to try and repay). More importantly, thank you for being an amazing room mate, and most importantly of all, a wonderful friend. It’s now been a year since we became close friends, and every moment has been an adventure of epic and/or hilarious proportions. If their were more Brian Brotmans, the world would be a lot more fun, funny, interesting, non-hierarchical, lovely, drunk, stoned, laid-back, caring, trustworthy, reciprocating, and fucking all-round awesome. Please continue to rock on. I love you man!*********)); an angry diatribe against not only the Catholic Church, but also Catholicism in general as a hegemonic ideology; an in-depth description of my four classes; a ridiculously angsty rant directed at people who I’ve tried to hang out with all semester but who have avoided me like the plague (and who didn’t visit me once during my two weeks of celebrations, and who have no idea what the inside of my room looks like) and who I wish would treat with me as a person, on a one-to-one basis, instead of through over-simplifying group judgments (perhaps it’s for the best that this part was lost forever); and observations about how this semester has been almost universally stressful for everyone, and how perhaps this is a likely explanation for many things (and how I wish this explanation was true). So yeah, that’s roughly 5 single-spaced pages condensed into a paragraph, rock on.
So basically this semester started with orientation week. Summary: Waste of time. On the other hand, I performed in Unspeakable Acts which was not only enjoyable, but really enlightening as well. I’d say it’s a contender for one of the most important things I’ve ever done at Wesleyan.
Speaking of activisty stuff, I’ve been mostly sucking this year. I really wanted to be on the Education campaign this year for EON, mostly because I figured I could put my Fairvote experience to good use, and also because propaganda is the funnest shit in the world. Unfortunately, my desire to be on the campaign was thwarted when it became clear that I would have to be the campaign (alone). This scared the hell out of me, especially considering my limited EON experience/knowledge. So yeah, I haven’t gone to a meeting since then, however; I am planning a recycling party (we’re saving all our bottles and stuff so we can cash it all in and buy some alcohol and weed and get smashed with lots of people. It’ll be fun, you should come (Yes, I realize this doesn’t make up for my negligence)). EMPHASIS is actually going pretty well, but that really has very little to do with me (mostly because I’ve been fucking up), even though I’m supposed to be in charge next semester when our current spiritual leaders go abroad. I tried to do the Katrina Relief fundraising group for a while, but the campaign I was on (greater Middletown community outreach) was seriously under-peopled and under-experienced and... I became lazy/over-stressed and stopped going by mid-October. Listening is going really well.
September was a pretty horrible month for me. Most of my reading for classes was woefully boring. But by far the worst part was the Meningitis scare, spinal tap, and ensuing recovery period. Basically, I had a stiff neck and flu symptoms for nearly a week. Eventually the stiff neck was getting so painful that I started complaining and my friend Julia suggested (jokingly) that perhaps I had meningitis. I laughed, but later decided to take my temperature and was more than a little shocked when it was 102. Whatever, I probably had some weird infection. I decided that if I still felt bad the next day (Thursday), I’d either stay in doing work for the night or I’d go to the health center so they could make me feel better and then I’d go drink at Open House (I think this was only the second or third Beers for Queers, and I was really, really excited).
However, the next day my neck had gotten even worse (at this point I couldn’t even lie down or stand up without being in terrible pain, and the only way I could be comfortable was by curling up in a sitting fetal position). I decided to go to the health center, but I wanted to get a ride since at this point I felt so weak I didn’t think I’d be able to make the walk. As I tried to arrange a ride, I grew increasingly more panicked and worried and suddenly decided I was going to die and didn’t really want any of my friends to see that. So I started walking, and figured that if I was going to die, I might as well do it with style, and used my iPod for the first time since getting back to Wes. Interestingly enough, my feverish fears were only exacerbated by my iPod’s shuffle as the first song that came on was Zombie by the Cranberries.
Ok, maybe that’s not really relevant. And yeah, I am laughing as I think back about this, but at the time, I was absolutely fucking grim. So yeah, I got to the Health Center, told them I had a stiff neck and flu symptoms. Then they took my temperature and immediately were like, ok, we need to call Public Safety so they can drive you to the Emergency Room. They said I’d probably get a spinal tap. At the time, this sounded sort of interesting, but I was also in horrible pain, so perhaps 15th century Hanseatic League records would’ve seemed interesting. Anyway, to make a long story short, the rest of my night involved three p-safe cars trying to pick me up (the first had a flat tire, and the second one broke down halfway to Davison); a whole lot of morphine (Let me just say that morphine is fucking awesome, and I’d highly recommend everyone try it at least once in their life (Seriously, hurt yourself into an ER situation). I wasn’t really paying attention to what the nurse was doing to my left arm, but all of a sudden, I felt like I was in a big, warm, happy puddle, and that’s when I turned to my left and noticed that I’d just received an injection of liquid joy.); the ER doctor missing slightly with the tap and hitting a nerve causing my leg to spasm uncontrollably; getting really excited to watch the Daily Show on the TV in my treatment room; but then discovering, to my horror, that they didn’t have Comedy Central, and Bill O’Reilly was in fact the only mildly interesting thing on TV (while still morphed out of my mind, mind you); and finally, a display of epic heroism on the part of Brian and his companions as they ordered me poppers and quesadillas just before the grill closed at Summerfields (one of many acts of serious awesome roomatery performed by Brian throughout the semester) so I could get some food for the first time since lunch (13 hours ago). Oh, and by the way, I didn’t have meningitis, just some really weird viral infection that cleared up completely in two days.
Unfortunately, it took me nearly two weeks to recover from the spinal tap. Recovery involved recovering the ability to sit in a chair for periods of time longer than 20 minutes. In fact, the next day, I completely failed to make it through my one class, Astro 155. About halfway through class, I came to realize that I could either try to vomit on something other than my professor (I was sitting in the front row), or I could make a stealthy exit (from the front row? Unlikely.). So as she turned to write on the chalkboard, I made my escape, unfortunately she definitely noticed as I heard her stutter just as I was halfway out the door (I’m operating under the assumption that she was perplexed by a seat suddenly emptied after being occupied 5 seconds previously). I believe this was the first time in which Prof. Johnston realized just how much of a fuck-up I am (although only a week later, I’d hand in the first homework assignment and this assignment would have the name Prof. Johnson in the heading (It took me 5 (6?) more assignments and two exams to realize what her real name was.)) Anyway, I finally made peace with my back, but it took me another week or so to make up all the reading that I wasn’t doing while unable to sit. That was September.
I can’t really remember October, but maybe that’s a good thing. I remember starting it incredibly depressed. I think most of this had to do with thoughts along the lines of, “Fuck! It’s already October, and this semester has sucked. Damnit, damnit!” This would also be a good point to explain that I was sort of expecting this semester to be ridiculously easy (because 1. I wanted it to be easy after a stressful as hell summer 2. The course descriptions gave this impression 3. How hard can life be when you have no obligation to wake up before 1:10?). However, I was woefully off the mark. Basically, between three of my classes I was writing 7 pages a week (and the fourth class had a weekly problem set) and I was often being flooded with excessive reading (damn you Ruth Simpson). So yeah, that sucked to get used to. Thankfully, I got into a groove after a while, and my social life recovered with my mood. Still, the highlight of October was probably the complete success of the cannabis consumer co-op. As of our last transaction, we’ve managed a 70% reduction from the standard campus price. Even taking into account the very average quality of the product and the growing friendship with our bulk supplier, we’re still making out like fucking bandits! Also, Halloween pretty much marked the point at which my social life recovered to a point at which I was satisfied. I dressed as a French Queer Hipster (really, it’s just a label given to an outfit that I thought looked cool). This costume consisted of Brian’s purple “Legitimate Tactics” hat, Eric’s sexy blue jacket, black slacks, black shoes, white socks, and hand-rolled cigs (I don’t smoke… tobacco. Harris taught me how to roll, and by the end of the night I was pretty proud of my results). And lest, I forgot, here’s a little snippet of how crazy life in Highrise is. http://www.livejournal.com/users/fucking_shut_up/31099.html I swear this is absolutely hilarious and unbelievable, and I think Brian covered it in his lj much better than I could now (except I’d like to add the seeming inconsequential details that at the time of the events described, Mike and I were stoned out of our gourds and locked in an absolutely epic battle of Soul Calibur II. Our first reaction was that the intruder was an undercover cop. Then we realized that undercover cops could be expected to wear pants. Also, Brian, Bea, Sarah, and Mo left to take care of the guy and seriously deserve a fucking medal for doing so. Meanwhile, after judging the situation under control, Mike, I, and everyone else went to get drunk and irresponsible.)
November has been by far the best month (yay for positive progressions). It pretty much began with Parents’ Weekend. (This is where I lost all that I’d written. I'm incredibly pissed that this part is gone, because it was basically the heart of this entry and involved me describing in intimate detail the incredible selflessness/substance abuse stamina of my friends and the ridiculous revels we had. Basically, if you weren't involved and are curious, ask).
Basically, this semester started off really slowly and horribly. However, things are now better than I ever expected. I had three goals for the semester as well as a more general aspiration to have my apartment smell like garlic and weed as much as possible (which generally succeeded thanks to Brian’s culinary skills (although I was pretty pleased with the snack pizzas I made)). These goals were: to learn how to play Go (which was largely unsuccessful until I finally dragged my ass to a Sunday afternoon meeting of Go Club, and I expect to continue going), to get into the habit of flossing (complete failure so far, but I’ve still got time), and to lower the price of weed to 10 dollars per eighth (This was supposed to be the hardest goal and I didn’t actually expect to accomplish it, but our last buy put the price at $13.75!). In pretty much every other area, life is going pretty excellently as well. High rise is starting to form into a real community (especially the third floor (although more progress is certainly needed)). Also, there’s a pretty lively east-west axis of queer stretching from High rise to 14 Warren. I’ve maintained most of my old friendships with relative ease (and many (though, unfortunately not all) have still been maintained sans ease) as well as making several new friends. My relationship with Darby has continued as strong as ever, despite all obstacles of space and time (also she deserves serious propz for reading my mind and sending me the Crash dvd and the Jon Stewart’s America flip calendar for my birthday). Moreover, for the first time since Freshman year, I feel like I really don’t need to go out to new and strange places to meet people/have fun because I have friends who will probably be more fun than any hypothetical new meetings (although I’ll still do this from time to time anyway, just for novelty). As for polyamory, who can say? Things are going relatively well romanto-sexually (by my modest standards at least), and I’m starting to form some habitual connections; yet, most of the girls I’m seeing/have seen are quite conventionally straight (and identify as such), and our relationships seem to lack deeper significance/connection. I’ll see what time brings. Academics are going pretty well, in the sense that I’m getting good grades and managing the ridiculous workload that’s been foisted upon me. This segues well into the general paradox of this semester, and the overall “theme” of this entry. Basically, life is finally how I want it to be, but I’m still not as happy as I expected to be while life was sucking. But after giving it some thought, that’s fucking great. This means that happiness is essentially unsustainable and non-contingent on material/external factors. I fucking love getting what I want and still being a bit malcontent, because it means that what really matters isn’t the stuff I have, my GPA, or the desires I’m fulfilling; what matters is something I have yet to understand (and maybe never will). All I know is that this semester has had some pretty incredible moments ( …most of which aren’t recorded because I listed them all in the November section) and all of those have involved people who I’m seriously lucky to even know.
Reading week and finals are fast approaching and all indications are that they’ll pretty closely mirror the high stress/high fun levels one year ago. The difference is that around this time last year, life really couldn’t have gotten too much worse, but now life couldn’t really get much better. I’m excited as hell.
Since most of my entries tend to be abstract and non-personal here’s a little speculative musing. I have a bunch more, but this entry is long enough already.
Rational discourse is a lot like bagpipes. If you don’t have at least a little bit of percussion as backup, all you really have is a lot of loud, annoying, bleating sounds. Ok, this wasn’t half as witty as I’d originally thought. Next.
Why is it that people pass weed when smoking, but people don’t pass cups/bottles of alcohol? Obviously sanitary issues aren’t influential because stoners apply their lighters to the weed itself, not the mouthpiece of whatever they’re smoking out of. Moreover, hard alcohol does have disinfectant properties. Of course, the explanation could lie with some sort of taboo against the appearance of saliva sharing. Still, I think there’s more to it.
My theory is that both social and economic forces are at work in the construction of smoking weed as a communal activity. This is a result of the methods by which weed is smoked. Unlike alcohol which can be drunk directly from its container or any container at all, bowls/bongs cannot be put to alternative uses. The implication is that smokers have to make an investment for something that is exclusively associated with weed. The implications of this are two-fold. 1) Because most first-time/inexperienced smokers cannot justify the cost of a piece with their minimal use (and because doing so might lead to some unwelcome changes in their self-perception (ok, that one’s psychological)), they rely on their friends to provide the means of production for their high. 2) Because a piece only has one use, if this piece is discovered, they can almost immediately be labeled as a marijuana user. Obviously, for young smokers, there’s a level of danger involved in hiding a piece from their parents. Of course, this argument requires modification if one takes into account the role of joints/blunts. On the other hand, most people don’t know how to roll, especially not younger smokers. Thus, if only a few friends among many have pieces or know how to roll, there’s a large incentive for communal smoking.