Archive for the ‘Nonclassified Nonsense’ Category

I seem to have a rather fatalistic outlook on life, or at least
relationships. I’ve seen so many friendships fall by the wayside. I never
meant for it to happen, it just does. “Letters that you never meant to send,
lost or thrown away.” Except that I’ve written letters to people and meant
to send them, but never finished them, never stuck them in envelopes, never
affixed postage… Perhaps this has affected my outlook on my relationship
to people. When I meet someone, I tend to forget their name right off.
Maybe it’s because I never intend on seeing them again. Maybe because
precedence has proved that in general that’s what happens.

I’m wondering who that woman is who was in the bathroom with all the girls
with St. Paul’s nametags at school last week. I know I’ve seen her before.
Or if not her, someone very much like her. I’m sure I had a conversation
with her. She has kids. Maybe she homeschooled or used to. I can even tell
you what her personality is like. At least, I’m pretty sure I can. But I
can’t remember where I saw her. And there’s no way I’m going to recall her
name.

My family all seems to suffer from phone ring timing disorder. A bunch of
people are downstairs. I can hear them addressing one another. The phone
just started ringing. It rang. It rang again. And again. No one was
picking it up. So finally I picked up the one on my desk that’s virtually
attached to the modem. I turn the ringer off because I hate having a phone
ring in my room. I can usually hear it from downstairs or in Steph’s room.
My parents’ room is directly under mine, so I can usually hear it through
the floor. And if I can’t, that’s okay. That means I don’t have to worry
about answering it. Considering that it’s never for me. About the only time
I touch it is to pick it up to see if anyone is on the line or not so I can
get on the modem.

But the phone was ringing, and no one was picking it up. So I did. I waited
a second to make sure no one had gotten the same idea downstairs. Then I
said quietly into the receiver, “Hello?” “Yes,” came the calm voice at the
other end of the line, “May I speak to…” At that moment the speaker phone
downstairs came on and my mom yelled, “HELLO?!” There was that moment of
confusion when three people are trying to communicate at once and aren’t
really sure who the other is. I just kept quiet while the lady on the other
end repeated her request, this time able to complete it by asking for
Stephanie. Mom yelled something back, but I hung up. My services were no
longer needed.

We all tend to yell into the speaker phone. That’s because if we talk
normally, it doesn’t seem to catch our voices.

Nathan and I were having a discussion about nudism. I said that I didn’t
think I’d have much a problem with it. It’s just not a big deal for me to
see naked people, and I don’t think it’d be real embarassing for me to go
around without any clothes on. Anyway, now everyone is in the discussion.
The guys seem to think it’d be a really bad idea, while people like my mom
and me aren’t ready to condemn nudist colonies. I mean, it doesn’t embarrass
me to see someone without clothes on. And the only reason I’d be
uncomfortable naked is if the people around me are feeling that way. But I
can say this and not know how I’d really react until it actually happened.
Which, chances are, it won’t. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.

Nathan said he could make a killing selling nude pictures of me. He said
next time he sees Stephen he’s gonna ask him how much he’d pay for nude
pictures of me. We made predictions about what his reaction would be. Ah,
what we do to amuse ourselves.

It’s been an interesting weekend. Denise, Nathan, and I have done some
hanging, since Steph’s been off babysitting each night. They all just went
down to Cream ‘n Bean for coffee. Asked me if I wanted to go. I declined.
I’m supposedly writing an English paper.

I need to start a new chess game. That’s what I need to do. I’m having
trouble finding a reason for living. A chess game should do that for me.

My brother just gently berated me for keeping the popcorn popper up in my
room. He’s probably been looking for it for 10 minutes now. Ah well. I
should have appologized.

Did you know that Newt Gingrich fell in love with his high school teacher,
and they got married? She got cancer later on. He grew up, changed, and
divorced her.

This dead camellia is so pretty. I’m not the green thumb type. I don’t have
any plants in my room other than the dead camellia on my desk and the dried
purple flowers on my dresser. But they weren’t meant to live permanently, so
that’s okay. I suppose I could have a live plant in my room, but I’m on the
north side of the house, so I don’t get much light. Odd, sunlight never
shines in my room. Never.

I don’t have a live plant in my room, but I can look through my partly opened
curtains and the window that is slightly open even though the air conditioner
has been running to see the side yard with its huge oak tree and the plum
tree that’s blooming and the couple of azaleas that didn’t die and on to the
string of trees growing along the fence and through that to the pasture and
the tall pine trees beyond.

I don’t have a green thumb. There was that summer thing I was involved in
one year when I planted a vegetable garden and go back and check on it twice
a week. But here the weeds grow so fast and the critters hungrily chomp on
whatever we plant, and the stuff we buy at the store looks so much better,
and we don’t have to work for it. So I haven’t found myself too eager to get
down in the dirt to coax something to life that is going to take work and
isn’t going to yield much results.

But I planted some stuff today. I took some cuttings and buried them in the
ground. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing. I don’t know if they will
survive, but it was a favor to someone. My activity was not aimed at some
future goal. It was merely the completion of a present request. I don’t
know if I did it correctly, but I did what I could. And I enjoyed it.

Someone once said that gardening is good for the soul. Or if they hadn’t,
they should have. I discovered that today. There is something basic,
something elemental about a hand holding steel turning dirt, all for the
purpose of life. When someone dies, we put them in the ground. These roots
I put in the ground to make them live. The dirt that accepts death gives
life.

I don’t know if they’ll live or not. Chances are that some will make it. I
stuck every root, every branch, everything there into the ground, leaving a
potential end exposed. I watered them thoroughly. It’s no longer up to me.

It’s an investment that will take time to show results.

Wild.

I don’t watch much TV. I really don’t. Movies, videos, I watch my fair
share. But ever since I got a modem, TV hasn’t held nearly the appeal for
me. I mean, why sit passively and watch something when you can interact?
Why view a projection of the world when you can be involved in the real
thing? Okay, okay, so maybe the Internet isn’t reality, but it’s closer.
And, in my eyes, more entertaining.

I went downstairs just now to get some juice to keep me from snoozing over my
Greek translations. After I poured myself some apple juice, I discovered the
baggie with a few crumbs left over from the brownies last night. Instead of
returning immediately upstairs, I sat down at the kitchen table and scooped
the brownie remnants into my mouth, leaving the juice for later. I like
apple juice, and I like brownies, but not simultanously. This is why I
picked up a magazine with three of the cast members of the TV show “Friends”
plastered across the front. I figured since I never actually watch the show,
I might as well read up on it to see what the big deal is all about.

Well, okay, never is too strong a word. I saw about 60 seconds of one
episode once several months ago. Then when I was in Nebraska this January, I
watched perhaps half an episode.

As I read the article, it talked about the show and then discussed three
scenes in detail. Was I ever surprised to realize I’d seen two of them. One
of them had a direct quote from the show… the one I’d seen one minute of.

I dunno. It’s things like that that make me do a double take on life. I
hear mathamaticians call coincidences like that “clumping.” Like a jar full
of jelly beans. At least, that was the analogy I heard.

It’s kinda like another experience. I’ve only seen “Saved by the Bell”
twice. The same episode both times.

Yesterday when I was talking to Stephen in the snack shop, Elizabeth turned
up her nose at the soup she was eating, declaring that it was butt garlic.
She offered it to Stephen, who accepted it. When he had finished, he said
to me, “If anyone ever offers you soup, you should take it. You’ll get a
free lunch that way.” I pondered his advice and agreed to follow it…
unless I was full or it was poisonous or otherwise nasty or for some other
really good reason.

Today as I was at the budget office window trying to order a transcript, i
heard someone yell as they walked by, “Oh my gosh, it’s that introvert
freak!” It was Denise, of course. We went to the snack shop where she
bought a chicken soft taco and then went out to the fountain and sat on one
of the benches and watched the couples on the other benches “making babies”
as Denise calls any two people who are all over each other. I laid back and
watched Denise eat her taco with my new sunglasses on. I also complained
about how beautiful a day it was. I hate being in a good mood, and I was in
an incredible one. I hate being that happy because I know it won’t last and
I’ll be down in the dumps later on. Like I am now… for no particular
reason at all.

While we were sitting there, Elizabeth came up with her soup and bread from
the sub place in the snack shop and joined us. (heh, this has nothing to do
with any of this, but it makes me laugh to think about it. One day I was in
a really good mood. I have absolutely no idea why, but I saw Elizabeth
coming out of the snack shop. I just went up and hugged her. She was very
surprised. “What was that for?” she asked. I shrugged, “Why not?” I just
don’t go around hugging people. I guess I really caught her off guard.)
After a while Elizabeth got up to leave. “You want my soup?” she asked. I
looked at it. “what is it?” “It’s the stuff you like. Vegetable.” “It’s
got okra in it. I hate okra.” But then I remember Stephen’s advice. So I
accepted it. And I finished it off. It was actually pretty good. And I had
a free lunch.

I couldn’t find Stephen to give him yesterday’s Zippy the Pinhead. We made a
pact. Since he gets the afternoon paper and we get the morning, he’ll cut
out Dilbert for me in exchange for Zippy. But I couldn’t find him. Not that
I really looked. I was heading toward the stairs, but Elizabeth came off the
elevator asking if I’d seen him. Since she was most likely coming down from
the theater dept, I figured he wasn’t going to be up there, and I had no clue
of where else to look for him. So I got in my car and started to drive away.

Instead of making the turn to exit campus, however, I kept going around the
circle and over to the dorms. I hadn’t seen Mark, and I really felt like I
should check up on him. Sure enough his car was in the parking lot. So I
rustled through the junk piling up in the front seat and found an unassuming
receipt. Then as I was looking for a pen in the trash bin that holds all my
tapes, someone bounded out of the door of the cottage in front of me and came
over to my car. It was Larry. The freak. “Hi,” I said through my cracked
car door. He came up and leaned over it to talk to me. Then he offered me a
stick of gum. Trying to quit smoking.

I eventually got out with a pencil I’d retrieved from my bookbag and leaned
up against my car. We must have talked for an hour. In that time I noticed
that Mark and Jeannine were in Jeannine’s truck. I kind of felt grateful
that the freak had come over to talk to me. Otherwise I would have gone to
Mark’s door, knocked on it, maybe talked to his roommates, and then left a
note, or something, all while he was right there. And then I might have
noticed or.. anyway.. it kind of saved me from an awkard situation. I told
the freak this. I dunno. I was flat out honest with him about everything he
asked me. He’s actually an interesting character. I don’t get it when I rip
a guy to shreds and he loves it. But that seems to be the way it goes. I
wasn’t mean, although he accused me of it once with a grin on his face. He
said I was like a brick wall and mused whether he could kick it down to get
to what was inside or not. He asked if Mark and i were friends. I shrugged
and told him that Mark can see over the wall somehow, so I try to keep on his
good side. It was an interesting conversation. I couldn’t really leave
because I didn’t just want to hurry off with Mark and Jeannine talking right
near by, though far enough away that I couldn’t hear them at all, just see
their faces. Larry looked at them and tried to fill in the conversation. He
was doing a pretty convincing job too. I laughed. I swallowed my gum.

A real interesting guy. His dad is American. He went to an American school
in Nicaragua. He speaks flawless English. Whenever I’m talking to someone
from a foreign country, I try not to use as many idioms and big words, but
understood everything I said. Well, as well as anyone else ever does.
Sometimes, though, he’d want to say something but couldn’t pull it out in
English, so he’d say it in Spanish. It sounded beautiful. I just wish I
knew what he was saying.

Mark left the truck and Jeannine drove away eventually. I waved at Mark. He
waved back but walked the other way. I told Larry that I might as well leave
because there was no longer a reason for me to stay. He asked if staying
because he was there was a reason. I smiled and said no. He asked if we
were friends. I said not yet. Then he said, “I’m going to try to be the
best friend you ever had.” I agreed with him that it was a very lofty goal.
He said his intentions were totally innocent. Then he asked how he could
achieve them. I told him I didn’t know, but if he tried too hard I’d run
away.

By then Mark had come back over. Larry showed a lot of sensitivity by
leaving at that point. Mark and I talked for a while. He’s still screwed
up. His roommate is an older guy who’s legally blind and busted his foot
over spring break. So we went with him over to the cafeteria. Mark got me a
glas of grape koolaid and some oven baked chicken, which is kind of illegal
since I don’t have a meal card. Then he went over and got me a hot dog and
some potato chips. I may have hurt his feelings by refusing to eat them.