Tales From College: The End is Nigh
So I have a hell of a lot to cover, huh? A good two weeks or so. Respectable.
I skipped out on Geography last Friday, and Nick and I were off home by three in the afternoon. The trip was just as dull as always, but seemed somewhat shorter than I remember. Maybe it’s because I slept through half of it, I dunno. We got back to Ft. Thomas with only about fifteen minutes to spare before seven o’clock, and I hat just enough time to make a few sandwiches before Kiefer and Vonnie came by the pick me up. I wasn’t at the door to meet them: no, I was in my room panicking over what to wear.
It had never occurred to me that the casual clothes I had on at the time would be unacceptable for the theatre, and had not brought any others except for my dirty laundry. I at first tried my full suit from We the People, but rediscovered that I look like shit in those button-down shirts with their pressed collars, and eventually compromised by wearing my t-shirt with the jacket and pants. I felt so embarrassed of how I looked, especially when Vonnie and Kiefer were dressed to the nines - not necessarily in formalwear, but in good clothes worn well. Also: I'm mispelling "Kiefer"'s name, aren't I?
I feel no reason to give an in-depth review of Les Miserable here. Suffice it to say that it was an good experience, though the play itself was not as good as I remembered it. I enjoyed most simply getting to see everyone again, and actually going out and doing something with them for once. Usually we're all too poor to do much except hang out. I eventually felt less self-conscious about my clothes when Nick pointed out that wearing T-shirts with suit jackets was in anyway.
Saturday was a most delicious day! I got to have some of my wonderful riceroni for breakfast before heading of to Ceera’s baby shower around 1 o’clock at Baka’s house. I was a bit late so everyone was already there - by “everyone” I mean Baka (of course), Emi, Vonnie, Nick, Kiefer, Many, Corwyn, Brian, Sarah Powell, Squee, Ceera, Carey, and two of Ceera’s other friends whose names I don’t know. An unusual crowd! Nick and I had oft discussed the potential for havoc that existed here, but gladly none of this potential went kinetic. It was a surprisingly pleasant party with none of the usual drama and angst that accompanies large group gatherings of this general species. Kiefer gave me a hat and a hammer and some ketchup, and I gave Ceera $100 via Emi. Note: I *will* pay you back, Emi!
After the party Nick, Baka, Emi, Squee, Ceera, Carey, and I went to a Japanese restaurant called Beni Hana (which I at first mistakenly thought had the very American name “Bennie Hana’s”) and got some sushi! I have always felt a little bad that I never had sushi, but now I have! Vegetable sushi. And for the first time ever I actually managed to use chopsticks correctly, which I believed to be almost physically impossible for my puny fingers. I also split some miso soup with Baka and got to have a Japanese onion ring! There was some kind of weird ice cream omelet … thing … too, which tasted just like Froot Loops™.
I should also note here that I spent Friday night, Saturday morning, Saturday night, and Sunday morning writing my final paper for anthropology, and managed to finish it just before my parents got back from church. This left me enough time to run down the street to Baka’s house to pay her back for the sushi and for her to show me some Kingdom Hearts 2, which I’m itching to play come summer. I then ran back down the street and jumped in the car for the long, boring ride back to Bowling Green.
[A week passes ... time ... whoo ...]
I had to wake up at 7:30 next Friday despite the fact that it was my first day without classes, being given over by the administration to "studying". Why, you ask? Professor Hudepohl’s office hours were from 8:00 - 11:00, and I was seeing two movies shown by my Geography professor that started at 9:30. So if I wanted to see her before the first one started, there was really nothing else for it but to wake up even earlier than I usually do. Of course it was raining. Still, I hiked up the hill for the third-to-the-last time in the damn rain to the Fine Arts Center so I could say goodbye to her and get a picture.
When I got there she wasn’t in her office like I’d expected, but instead in her classroom overseeing three girls doing a make-up test. I very nearly didn’t have the guts enough to go in, but (thank god) eventually managed to work up the courage. Curse you, social anxiety disorder! We went in the hall and sat on one of the benches and had a good talk for about ten minutes. She was surprised and disappointed to hear I was leaving, and said she’d been looking forward to having me in her classes next year. This prompted me to launch into a small monologue about how much I was struggling with the decision to transfer, because I really feel like I’ve just wasted all my chances and if I’d been more outgoing and actually pursued things I probably could have enjoyed myself here and wouldn’t need to leave. She interrupted me before I could get too much steam, though, and encouraged me to go to Louisville without any regrets if it would make me happier. She said that she had once walked into a coffee shop in Louisville and had the sudden “this is right” feeling that I’ve felt there several times too.
We then found some grad student working in the office and got him to take our picture standing under the balcony so we didn’t get wet - though that probably would have made for a funny picture too. As she went back into the classroom she said we should keep in touch, and I really mean to this time. Her classes have been the only things in this long miserable year that have felt anything like what college was supposed to be like. They kept me sane, and for that I am thankful to her.
After that somewhat wrenching experience I walked further up the hill in the continuing rain to the science building. My throat had closed up and I was in the first stages of getting ready to cry, though it never actually went that far. And then I watched Hotel Rwanda, which was basically like being punched over and over again mainly in the heart but also in the face some, and did not make me feel any better. The big message of the movie was that complacent Westerners (like myself) are ignoring the problems in the rest of the world to live in their little bubble and eat Doritos. The whole time I watched it all I could think was: I don’t want to live like that. The relief workers in the movie were emotionally destroyed shells who have given away everything they have to give. I just want to be an artist and live in a quiet little town in Europe somewhere and revolutionize cinema, or photography, or literature. But do I have that right?
The second movie was The Constant Gardener and was much easier to watch. It was an odd little bit of work, though, as it was an action mystery about serious world problems filmed as an art flick. I was extremely surprised to see everyone else in the room slowly disappear after Hotel Rwanda finished, until by the end it was just me left sitting in the dark. When the professor came back in she looked dismayed, and announced that of everyone who had shown up I was the only one who was getting any extra credit - the reason she was showing the movies in the first place. I replied that I hadn’t come for points, I’d just always meant to see these two movies and saw an opportunity to avoid having to shell out ten bucks at a rental store.
It was now about three o’clock in the afternoon and for the first time in a good year I had nothing terribly pressing to do. I walked back to my dorm aimlessly and enjoyed myself by taking a luxurious nap until dinner with Will. He told us about a play called “Taboo” playing that night which one of his friends had written that sounded interesting, and in fact was. It dealt with racial/gender/sexual stereotypes and trying to fight them or unconsciously filling them. The entire second act dealt with homosexuality and was intensely uncomfortable: a gay kid has some weird, possibly imaginary gay godmother thing who gives him a crash course in the gay subculture. A subculture that I despise so much. So much! The play obviously understood that it was all just further stereotypes, and the godmother … thing … was not shown terribly positively, but I was overwhelmed by furious anger at the fact that that’s how things really are, and that so many people see me as a part of it when I feel no kinship with them whatsoever!
I skipped out on Geography last Friday, and Nick and I were off home by three in the afternoon. The trip was just as dull as always, but seemed somewhat shorter than I remember. Maybe it’s because I slept through half of it, I dunno. We got back to Ft. Thomas with only about fifteen minutes to spare before seven o’clock, and I hat just enough time to make a few sandwiches before Kiefer and Vonnie came by the pick me up. I wasn’t at the door to meet them: no, I was in my room panicking over what to wear.
It had never occurred to me that the casual clothes I had on at the time would be unacceptable for the theatre, and had not brought any others except for my dirty laundry. I at first tried my full suit from We the People, but rediscovered that I look like shit in those button-down shirts with their pressed collars, and eventually compromised by wearing my t-shirt with the jacket and pants. I felt so embarrassed of how I looked, especially when Vonnie and Kiefer were dressed to the nines - not necessarily in formalwear, but in good clothes worn well. Also: I'm mispelling "Kiefer"'s name, aren't I?
I feel no reason to give an in-depth review of Les Miserable here. Suffice it to say that it was an good experience, though the play itself was not as good as I remembered it. I enjoyed most simply getting to see everyone again, and actually going out and doing something with them for once. Usually we're all too poor to do much except hang out. I eventually felt less self-conscious about my clothes when Nick pointed out that wearing T-shirts with suit jackets was in anyway.
Saturday was a most delicious day! I got to have some of my wonderful riceroni for breakfast before heading of to Ceera’s baby shower around 1 o’clock at Baka’s house. I was a bit late so everyone was already there - by “everyone” I mean Baka (of course), Emi, Vonnie, Nick, Kiefer, Many, Corwyn, Brian, Sarah Powell, Squee, Ceera, Carey, and two of Ceera’s other friends whose names I don’t know. An unusual crowd! Nick and I had oft discussed the potential for havoc that existed here, but gladly none of this potential went kinetic. It was a surprisingly pleasant party with none of the usual drama and angst that accompanies large group gatherings of this general species. Kiefer gave me a hat and a hammer and some ketchup, and I gave Ceera $100 via Emi. Note: I *will* pay you back, Emi!
After the party Nick, Baka, Emi, Squee, Ceera, Carey, and I went to a Japanese restaurant called Beni Hana (which I at first mistakenly thought had the very American name “Bennie Hana’s”) and got some sushi! I have always felt a little bad that I never had sushi, but now I have! Vegetable sushi. And for the first time ever I actually managed to use chopsticks correctly, which I believed to be almost physically impossible for my puny fingers. I also split some miso soup with Baka and got to have a Japanese onion ring! There was some kind of weird ice cream omelet … thing … too, which tasted just like Froot Loops™.
I should also note here that I spent Friday night, Saturday morning, Saturday night, and Sunday morning writing my final paper for anthropology, and managed to finish it just before my parents got back from church. This left me enough time to run down the street to Baka’s house to pay her back for the sushi and for her to show me some Kingdom Hearts 2, which I’m itching to play come summer. I then ran back down the street and jumped in the car for the long, boring ride back to Bowling Green.
[A week passes ... time ... whoo ...]
I had to wake up at 7:30 next Friday despite the fact that it was my first day without classes, being given over by the administration to "studying". Why, you ask? Professor Hudepohl’s office hours were from 8:00 - 11:00, and I was seeing two movies shown by my Geography professor that started at 9:30. So if I wanted to see her before the first one started, there was really nothing else for it but to wake up even earlier than I usually do. Of course it was raining. Still, I hiked up the hill for the third-to-the-last time in the damn rain to the Fine Arts Center so I could say goodbye to her and get a picture.
When I got there she wasn’t in her office like I’d expected, but instead in her classroom overseeing three girls doing a make-up test. I very nearly didn’t have the guts enough to go in, but (thank god) eventually managed to work up the courage. Curse you, social anxiety disorder! We went in the hall and sat on one of the benches and had a good talk for about ten minutes. She was surprised and disappointed to hear I was leaving, and said she’d been looking forward to having me in her classes next year. This prompted me to launch into a small monologue about how much I was struggling with the decision to transfer, because I really feel like I’ve just wasted all my chances and if I’d been more outgoing and actually pursued things I probably could have enjoyed myself here and wouldn’t need to leave. She interrupted me before I could get too much steam, though, and encouraged me to go to Louisville without any regrets if it would make me happier. She said that she had once walked into a coffee shop in Louisville and had the sudden “this is right” feeling that I’ve felt there several times too.
We then found some grad student working in the office and got him to take our picture standing under the balcony so we didn’t get wet - though that probably would have made for a funny picture too. As she went back into the classroom she said we should keep in touch, and I really mean to this time. Her classes have been the only things in this long miserable year that have felt anything like what college was supposed to be like. They kept me sane, and for that I am thankful to her.
After that somewhat wrenching experience I walked further up the hill in the continuing rain to the science building. My throat had closed up and I was in the first stages of getting ready to cry, though it never actually went that far. And then I watched Hotel Rwanda, which was basically like being punched over and over again mainly in the heart but also in the face some, and did not make me feel any better. The big message of the movie was that complacent Westerners (like myself) are ignoring the problems in the rest of the world to live in their little bubble and eat Doritos. The whole time I watched it all I could think was: I don’t want to live like that. The relief workers in the movie were emotionally destroyed shells who have given away everything they have to give. I just want to be an artist and live in a quiet little town in Europe somewhere and revolutionize cinema, or photography, or literature. But do I have that right?
The second movie was The Constant Gardener and was much easier to watch. It was an odd little bit of work, though, as it was an action mystery about serious world problems filmed as an art flick. I was extremely surprised to see everyone else in the room slowly disappear after Hotel Rwanda finished, until by the end it was just me left sitting in the dark. When the professor came back in she looked dismayed, and announced that of everyone who had shown up I was the only one who was getting any extra credit - the reason she was showing the movies in the first place. I replied that I hadn’t come for points, I’d just always meant to see these two movies and saw an opportunity to avoid having to shell out ten bucks at a rental store.
It was now about three o’clock in the afternoon and for the first time in a good year I had nothing terribly pressing to do. I walked back to my dorm aimlessly and enjoyed myself by taking a luxurious nap until dinner with Will. He told us about a play called “Taboo” playing that night which one of his friends had written that sounded interesting, and in fact was. It dealt with racial/gender/sexual stereotypes and trying to fight them or unconsciously filling them. The entire second act dealt with homosexuality and was intensely uncomfortable: a gay kid has some weird, possibly imaginary gay godmother thing who gives him a crash course in the gay subculture. A subculture that I despise so much. So much! The play obviously understood that it was all just further stereotypes, and the godmother … thing … was not shown terribly positively, but I was overwhelmed by furious anger at the fact that that’s how things really are, and that so many people see me as a part of it when I feel no kinship with them whatsoever!