Posts by Jonah

It happened again today.

A couple of weeks ago, a girl sitting next to me in psych class turned toward
me before the lecture began. It’s a big class, maybe not big for university
standards, but big for the college I attend. I sat on the front row in the
middle, my customary seat in any classroom, the first day of class, but I was
late for several class periods following that, and someone took my seat. In
fact, I’m late for psych class most of the time. Public Administration is
right beforehand, and I usually get in a conversation with my professor and
at least one other class member afterward. If I leave early enough, I’ll
stop and chat with other people along the way, so either way, I’m almost
never on time for psychology. Many days see me hauling butt across the quad
to get to the library, where my classroom is. At least I get my exercise,
right?

In any case, because I’m almost always late, I never sat in the same seat
twice for the first month of school. I never could remember which seat I sat
in last, and even if I did, there’d usually be someone in it that I’d
displaced last time. I’ve sort of laid claim to a seat over to the left
about half way back now, but I still just slide into the first available one
if the lecture is already in progress. This particular day, however, I
managed to get to class before the professor started teaching and sit in the
desk next to the girl, who turned toward me and asked, “Do you have a sister
that goes here?” This surprised me because 1) I’d never noticed her before
and didn’t recognize her from anywhere, 2) not many people know that my
sister attends the same school I do, 3) my sister and I don’t look anything
alike, and 4) no one I didn’t know already ever talks to me in that class
(even those who do know me don’t talk to me on a regular basis).

I looked at her and answered, “Yes.”

“Does she have a class with Dr. Allums?” she pressed. I again answered in
the affirmative. “Well,” she looked triumphant, “your sister is in that
English class with me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Your sister is in that English class with me,” she repeated, thinking I
hadn’t heard.

I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” She looked taken aback. Then she laughed
nervously, and the lecture began.

Afterward, I asked her what her name was and told her mine. “Holly,” she
said.

“Holly,” I repeated, then added, “I’ll forget that.” No sense in building up
false expectations in people. That’s what I always say. I’m terrible with
names, and just because I ask someone what their’s is doesn’t mean I’m going
to remember it.

My sister came home that day and gave me an odd look. Come to think of it,
my sister is always giving me odd looks. That would seem to make them not so
odd, but she doesn’t look at other people that way very often, so maybe it
still qualifies them as odd. She told me that a girl in her English class
had met me that day and given her a strange report of me. I laughed and
refused to deny any of it.

But it happened again today.

I ran across campus again in time to find out we’re still studying about
psychological disorders. Today the professor outlined the symptoms of
schizophrenia and anti-social personalities, also known as sociopaths.
Sociopaths have no conscience. They can do anything without feeling any
guilt or remorse. They can lie without becoming nervous and so pass
polygraph tests flawlessly. They’re thrill seekers and love breaking rules
and getting away with it. So after hearing all about schizophrenia and now
anti-social personalities, I was doing a lot of self examination. The class
time came to a close, so I turned toward Holly, whom by seemingly mere chance
I was sitting next to again, and said, “It’s scary to hear about this
stuff…”

“Yeah!” she agreed hastily.

“…and think, gee, that sounds a lot like me,” I continued.

Her eyes got wide. “Uh,” she stuttered, “oh.” Then she laughed again.
Nervously.

My sister greeted me when I walked in the door this afternoon. Then she
tried not to smile. I could tell what she was thinking. “What did she say?”
I laughed.

“What’s her name, Holly?” my sister said, “Yeah, she came into class today
and told me, ‘Your sister is really crazy!'”

I doubled over in laughter and then asked, “Well? What did you say?”

My sister smiled and answered, “‘I know.'”

I’m sitting up here in the computer lab at school.. we recently got a
connection though maf here. Makes browsing the web neato. Especially when I
STILL don’t have netscape at home… I was up here chatting with Gandalf and
Lorax and some other wizards earlier. Rivendel is such a cool place…

Anyway, I just came back from the library where I watched a video about
African religions that i missed while I was out of town and couldn’t attend
world religions class. I also was trying to read John Locke’s first treatise
on government because I asked Dr. Schaefer a question in class today and he
told me to go find out. But the people nearby in the library were making
weird noises, and I really didn’t feel like finding out what was going on, so
I left. But I had to check out John Locke first. That’s when I noticed who
was manning the front desk.

A couple of weeks ago, I was walking back from the dorms or the cafeteria for
some reason, I’m not really sure why, when I saw him running toward me. It
was the freak. I think his name is Larry. He’s the guy who asked me for a
cigarette that time and then insisted I smoked later on. That’s when I
discovered I had a double on campus. Anyway, he was hauling butt for some
reason, so I smiled as he swept past me. That’s when he said, “Hey,
gorgeous,” and ran right by. I dunno. That was one of the last things I was
expecting him to say.

Anyway, he was there at the library counter. I could see him from the table
where I was filling out a card to check my book out. I dunno why we still do
the card thing. It would be much more efficient to have a scanner for the
books. Instead we have to fill out a card for each book we check out, writing
down the library of congress number, the ascension number, title, author, and
our name, social security number, and phone number. I thought for a second
before I filled out the box entitled “name”. Finally, making a decision, I
penciled in “Brenner, J.” Then I walked up to the desk, planted the book and
card on top of it, and waited for the freak to look up. He did, his eyes
betraying a glimmer of recognition. “Hi,” he said quietly as if he hadn’t
seen a friend for a long time, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I possibly smiled slightly.

He eventually grasped the meaning of my visit by looking down at my hand on
the book. I slid it toward him. He picked it up and looked at the card.
“What’s the J for?” he asked slowly. I stared at his multiple earrings and
lone eyebrow ring above his left eye offsetting his acne scarred face..

I’ll finish this later..

I was sitting at my desk doing Greek homework when I noticed something was
buzzing in my room. A wasp was hovering nearby, so I returned Stalin to his
cage, walked out, shut the door, and ran downstairs for a fly swatter,
fogetting that, due to the current construction on our house, everything that
was once in the laundry room is now in boxes distributed around the dining
room and the floor of the new laundry room. Instead, I picked up the front
page to today’s newspaper and rolled it up as I went back to my room. I
opened the door, and peered around, newspaper at the ready. The buzzing had
stopped. The wasp could be anywhere. Then I spotted him. There. On the
lampshade. I walked slowly towards him, lifting the newspaper. I’d have to
hit him hard because the lampshade was thin material and wouldn’t offer any
resistance. And my only weapon was the newspaper, which was flimsy at best.
Calculating the distance and speed I’d need, I raised my arm and wanged the
wasp really hard. Then I laughed as I watched the bulb blow and the lamp
topple down.

The room was now much to dark for homework of any kind, so I went back
downstairs to search for a light bulb among the contents of the laundry room
that were still distributed in the dining room and the new laundry room. The
only one I could find was a three way bulb. I hate three way bulbs. When I
turn the knob on a lamp, I want it to come on. When I turn it again, I want
it to go off. But I don’t seem to have much choice in the matter, so I’m
sitting in the glare of a hundred and fifty watts.

And I’m still not doing my Greek homework.

Couldn’t go to sleep last night, whether it was feet were still cold even under two extra blankets or the cat kept purring in my face, or something else.

Having the cat in there does make waking up in the morning easier. Especially when I have to get up around 7 to throw him in the closet.

I only have two classes today, three classes on TT. I feel like such a slacker.

I have to get THING today. I guess I’ll have to come home and go back out, because I can’t take the van, and the other one is parked at the airport.

In the desert you can remember you name….

I was walking to the bathroom just now when the some of the most vivid colors I’ve seen in nature appeared through the window in the corner of my eye. I stopped, transfixed, gazing out at one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. Its hues drew me for a better look toward the window and then through it to the roof outside. My feet walked along the shingles, my eyes locked on the purple tones and other living pigments that mere words can never adequately describe. I sat on a gableand stared at the sky. The cirrus clouds in the west hovered above the horizon, changing tone by the minute.

As I sat there, I realized what it’s all about. I experienced my enlightenment, except unlike Buddha and his bo tree, I was under a live oak on top of a roof. My eyes drank in the beauty before me as my optic nerves delivered the information to a cynical mind that asked, “So?” And itwas then that I realized that it didn’t matter what life threw at me… as long as I had someone to share it with.

As the last shades of pink slipped away and I got up to leave, I noticed that an oddly shaped cloud farther above was moving slowly to my eyes but undoubtably very swiftly at its high altitude. It almost looked like a jet trail, spread out long after its originator had disappeared. But it wasn’t straight like an airplane’s path should be. It curved up and came down to a point. I frowned and stepped back to get a better view. The rest of it appeared from behind one of the oak’s limbs. Then I laughed. “The dang thing’s heart shaped!” I almost said out loud. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was as if one of those sky writing planes had drawn a huge valentine in the sky. Maybe one had, I don’t know. But the sides of it blew slowly outward like nebula from a supernova, leaving Venus shining much too brightly from inside. I laughed again, climbed back in the window, and slammed it shut.

So happy Valentine’s Day, everybody. Or something.

I got mine.