As I was sitting in the union today catching up on some MCAT studying, this young girl (18 years old I guess) sat next to me on the couch and proceeded to stare off into nothingnness. That’s alright I could handle that. That’s not too weird. Then she curls up on the couch and takes like a three minute nap. Again, not too weird. But my radar had definitely been spooked by then. She stirs from her catnap, takes out her notes, and then begins to whisper them to herself, not too weird, mostly annoying. But for every “s” sound or c sound, she raised her voice to audible level but then returned. My first thought was to declare her a wackjob, but I glanced over to see if she was practicing pronouncing some language or being a linguist so I could forgive her for her intrusion into my thoughts, but no, it was environmental biology or something. I forgave her though as she was keeping me awake.
I consider myself the gap between weird people and normal people. I have things in common with both, I can easily discuss the Orioles’ prospects while high-fiving my roommate for his latest sexual conquest while dominating my other roommate in Madden 2006, and I can delve into details about any given Star Trek: TNG episode while drinking papaya juice watching Telemundo contemplating when I’m going to move to Mexico. I’m half-weird and half-normal, which I think is the best of both worlds (whatever made up dichotomy this is). I can relate to almost everyone, no matter how insane or how mainstream.
This has its consequences, as no one really gets the same Prolificus. I wonder what my true self is. I have no choice but to create a clone and live with him on an island in the Pacific for a month, keeping a journal. Then I’ll publish that shit and become Governor. Life goal #104. Yes!
I retract my previous post. Obviously I jinxed myself. From now on, overstudying is not sexy. Things are not improving, the whole world is flushing itself down the toilet. There!
Since I have stopped working at my on campus job, my schoolwork has improved. My “job” is now doing research, and not mindlessly taking orders from helpless computer-illiterates. Don’t get me wrong I love being of service but simply put, I have been able to stay in academic mode for much more time, and I like my brain’s response. It has not been since freshman year since I’ve seen things so clearly.
Overstudying is sexy.
Reality brought another bruising blow last weekend, as the brother of one of my friends died at age 23.
I feel like I have written about this before, about my immense fear of having my own brother die. I would gladly give my life for my brother to live even just one day longer. This subject is mentally taxing, and has been a dictum since it was even more true, but life is short.
So what I’ve said to myself is to do things now. And also to listen now. This existence really is much too short to dilly-dally around with false bullshit. Even if it all is. I promise to take it all in.
In a instantaneous introspective moment, I decided to list my pet peeves. I’ve only come up with two major ones.
1) Humiliation, public or private
2) Videotapes of people hitting their heads –getting injured in general
I suppose that these two are related to each other, but I cannot stand them. Both make me sick to my stomach. I think the humiliation part comes from being humiliated often while growing up. Whether I was fat, had a big head, had crazy teeth, crazy clothes, been the color of my skin, not acting the color of my skin enough etc. So I made friends with people who also disliked the humiliation part of life. The kids not genetically blessed with exactly the right countenance to be popular. It’s grown into this moral outrage at any unjustified humiliation of any kind. Please refrain from humiliating others. It will make the world a much happier place.
Also, don’t watch dumb tapes of people being mauled by lions.
I’m thinktanking for the Black Honors Caucus’ annual Black Jeopardy. I’ve discovered that it is quite difficult to come up with general, national, black political questions.
Quick. How many black senators have there been in the past 120 years? Aim low, and if you read the newspaper at all you can name 1/3 of them.
The days just fly by now. Anyday now, it’ll be 2007.
It’s raining again. For me, rain is the single thing that will prevent me from getting to sleep. I am the master sleepist. I’ve slept on the sidewalk in front of my home in broad daylight because I’m so damn cool. It’s hard to say exactly what about rain that keeps me up. It’s the pitter patter, it’s the inconstant yet constant unpredictable sound that disturbs the windows when it’s really raining. I like rain when I’m awake. Ever since the Mexican torrential night-rains I’ve ditched umbrellas. But the rain makes me pay. I dance in the rain during the day, and it dances on me when I am trying to get to sleep. There’s not even any fucking thunder.