Our Dumb Blog

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.