I have incredibly fortuitous laundry karma.

The laundry room is an extremely competitive atmosphere. No matter the time of day, there is always some degree of difficulty in gaining access to a washer and/or dryer. Such a high level of contest leads even the kindest and most gentle people to commit to the most horrible and dreadful deeds. Nothing can stand in their way. If your load is found lying dormant past the designated time limit, it is very likely you will return and find your clothing sprawled across the entire room. I know these things from experience. Week after week I was tormented by uncertainty and lost time. I just could not win.

That is when it happened. I got caught up watching Dead Like Me and completely forgot about my clothes. Only the worst could arise. I went down to fetch what was most likely trounced upon by muddy feet, irretrievable from a hideous mass of foreign articles, or worse.. neatly folded and arranged by color?* Astounding. Astounding, astounding. Astounding, astounding.. excellent. Yes, excellent. How nicely excellent! What a nicely excellent gesture of kindness, finesse, and communal cooperation! I could not believe my eyes, but I knew I just had to pass it on.

So, yesterday, I found someone’s stuff in a similar situation to what mine had been in so many nights before. In order to make space for myself, I decided to create for this person the same exuberance that was endowed upon me. That took care of drying my first load, but washing my second was still in question, as I had no change. I set the next batch of clothes off to the side and embarked on a journey that landed me all the Chinese food I could eat, an unceremonious drawing of several Jack O’Lanterns, a fictional bicycle race against a girl who went through the squares instead of around, burgeoning body odor, two and a half hours of something I have deffinitely forgoten already, delicious panda brand licorice, and a last-minute salad. I returned to the laundry room, and my clothes weren’t there! Oh, no! I gave up for a little while and decided my crap had been stolen. After all, those were my cool, cool Goodwill pants. Who wouldn’t want those? Then, I allowed it time to set in. Who would want those? Who would want to steal a bunch of smelly t-shirts wrapped in a towel that had plaster smeared all over it? I came to the conclusion that my clothes just had to be in there somewhere. Look! See! Behold! My clothes were being washed. No, being washed. Someone found my heap of thread, paid their hard-earned money, sprinkled on their own personal favorite pixie detergent, and washed my clothes. How this came to be, I care not. No, sorry. How this came to be: the circle of kindness and virtue, the ring of beneficence and altruism, the loop of good will and compassion, and I am forever grateful!

Before

Aye. Events have been set in motion that will lead to the imminent retribution of the tasteless republic of.. okay, then. Every pipe in my dorm is clogged at the same time. We have no plunger and there is nothing I myself can do to fix the sink or tub besides call somebody, but I do not know who to call and I do not want to pay money. This is an extremely weird situation to be in especially considering all the homework I have to do. Plumbing and laundry seem to control every aspect of my being. I am not showering because I do not want to walk barefoot in there. I am brushing my teeth and urinating in the tub. I am pooing in the lobby. I am unable to clean anything because there are dirty clothes everywhere. I am unable to wash the clothes because the change machine is out of change. I do not want to eat because it feels like I am wasting time.. all I have left to do is cheese it. Chao’s stops seving the lunch buffet at three. I’ve two and a half hours get all that stuff fixed, and I’m off. Happy Morgan Day, y’all.

That’s the King of All the Meats

Hey. Today. This week has been pretty enormous. That is E for me and N for no longer. N for no, I am not saying it like that. Chill out, mate. That is what everybody around here needs to do. I do not mean everybody, but everybody I am generally in contact with. You know the drill. Everybody’s talking way too much and I am cheese. I am Swiss cheese in the middle of a fondue cook-off. There are never any dance parties around here. I do not want to go to a concert. I do not want to get wasted. Maybe I just do not know the right people. I WISH I KNEW SAUL WILLIAMS. I did not mean for that to be in all caps.

I need to call my dad. I need to get the tire on my bike fixed. I need to study for Survey I. I need to stop sleeping so much. I need to loosen up. I need to figure out how to work the printers in this computer lab. I need to.. be continued. Oh, I just figured out the printers. Next up: the scanner. I am going to sleep outside maybe. I really wish I could post a picture.

What’s That Smell?

Grr.. angryface >:[ Yeah, I'm mad. A few innocent birdies could die because of me. They won't die by my decision, but they may die by my hand (just following orders.) That is what makes me angry.

Alright, for the last few weeks there was this strange smell that lingered on the laundry. After a keen insmection, the smell was traced to the dryer. It did not seem like much at the time. We just thought someone had thrown in some extra stinky clothes before actually washing them, though after an extended period of time the smell did not go away. It became obvious that the situation at hand was much more than imagined. My step-father decided to embark on an investigation. He tried cleaning the smell out with various solutions and soaking the interior with different air fresheners and anti-bacterials simultaneously (for maximum effect), but none of these tactics proved successful. Finally, he got right down to it and pulled the dryer away from the wall to see what he could find. He found a bird. It was a dead bird stuck in that slinky-looking tube that pumps air from the dryer, up the wall, and outside. I felt bad for the bird, but it was a very interesting situation. It was like on those Discovery channel urban myth-or-not shows where the people find the dead bodies under their hotel mattress.

Here is where I get mad. In an effort to prevent any further infractions (? heh..), my step-dad decides to cover the hole from the outside with a thing that lets the ventilation out but no birdies in. Thing is, he doesn't exactly do it himself. He drops it on me and goes off to the office. I am not complaining, though. It is no big deal, plus I get to do the tilty thing with the ladder. So, I get out there, get up on the ladder, and find that the bird left us a little treat before it died. No, not poop. There is a nest in there with a couple of pretty little eggs. I stopped right there. No way I am going any further. I called up my step-dad and explained him the situation and he's like pull them out. Do what? I asked if we could call some animal people to come and pick the eggs up and he's all no because he doesn't want any squirrels and birds getting in there. Ridiculous. Out of the entire seven years we have been living here, this has happened only once. What are the chances of it happening again before the animal folks are able to come to the rescue? The answer is still to pull them out. Bah.. he is being completely unreasonable. Hrmm.. right now I am waiting for my mom to call me back so I can convince her to put that goof in his place.

In other nooze.. I have started running again. I have not been out since graduation, and I am beginning to feel it (I got a lot more fit than I had imagined). Yesterday in particular was a marvelous day. I got my run on, did a few rounds of keep-ups, came home, and then it started raining. Wha? Ok, this got me excited because I got the idea that the rain had actually waited for me to finish running before it let itself go. Phenomenal.

The internet doesn't work. People are constantly dropping [we really need to hang out sometime]s, but nothing ever comes of them.

I need to be in Savannaaah! Rightnow. Right. Now.

No dragon*con

Do you ever do something somewhat–and I stress the somewhat–miraculous and think to yourself that there could be something there? I am always catching things as they fall. Sure, that may not seem so extraordinary, but I catch everything every time. If not incredible reflexes, I must at least have slightly above dirt bottom reflexes. Every time I do the catchy thing a certain series of thoughts go through my mind that persistently solidify this idea. I start thinking about people’s comments as I played four square and that one time when some dude was.. I will start a new sentence for this one. I forget why, but some dude had my watch and when I tried to get it back, he told me he was no longer involved in the situation because he had sold it off for five bucks. This was a ridiculous assumption and as I argued with him about the validity of his claim, he proceeded to literally rub it in my face by waving the five dollar bill around in the air. I just swiped it. There were people all around us (expecting a fight, no doubt, even though this was pretty friendly) and every one of them was just blown away. No one expected that. He was forced to retrieve the watch. It seems a bit (I can not think of the right word so I will combine two others in an attempt to get the same effect.) It seems a bit shallow-selfish to go around thinking oh well I am so much better than you because I can catch things as they fall almost as though I planned the fall as fast as a speeding bullet whatever a spider can do, but, at times, it seems an unavoidable truth.

I am not going to dragon*con this year. I have waited four years for this moment and I can not have it. Yeah, my mom. I do not think she realises how important this is to me. Perhaps that is because two of those years I basically did not even try to go. I had planned this coming-of-age thing when I finally hit eighteen and nothing mattered except that. I actually technically can go, but my “inability” to go is a bit more attributed to my stubborness than my mom’s reluctance to let me go. She has her terms. As I said, there was the plan. First year I ever heard of dragoncon was from Morgan and she spoke of all her magical adventures and not sleeping for three nights straight and I thought to myself: I want that. I wanted everything the con had to offer. There was this whole mysteries of the unknown thing. I had no clue what to expect, but no matter what I was going to go in there and make it all mine. My mom wants me to commute back and forth each day. Past experience keeps telling me not to do that. Any time I leave people behind at some place I get all bummed out and feel like I am missing so much and everyone is having a great time without me. Then I get the feeling they are making fun of me behind my back. Maybe they are saying good things? I will never know because I am not there, but even if I was there, no one ever says how they feel about you to your face, or they have their ways and I do not get it. That is also why I am too chicken to just ask somebody who’s already got their plans and all if I can stay in their room.

I feel like I am letting a bunch of people down. Really, it is just Morgan and Neil, but that feels like a bunch of people.

In other news: for the past few nights I have been eating chicken salad sandwiches filled with chicken salad that is scheduled to go bad in the next three weeks. That is too close for comfort. I can feel something happening.

The Mall

The day before yesterday I went to the mall and spent the majority of the day watching movies, eating nachos, and feeling really, really special, but before I get to that, I must recall earlier that morning when I saved some dude’s life.

My mom had ordered some Chinese take-out and made me go in and wait for it. The place was completely packed on one side and the other side was empty except for one guy. Perhaps everybody wanted a good view of the new television and that guy got there too late. He must have felt pretty bad about being left out and was so ashamed that he took to self-punishment. Not only did he sit with his back towards the TV, but he sat directly in front of it so as to torture himself with the sound of that which was so close yet so far–lacking in the visual necessities. Little did he realize the true horrors of what awaited him. There was this kid bouncing around the restaurant that was apparantly really into Judge Mathis. He was hanging onto the television relentlessly and he wasn’t being loud and reckless or anything, but I could tell he touched some kind of nerve on that guy. However, the guy was terribly frightened to take any sort of action, and with good reason. This was no ordinary child. This was the owner’s son. Who wants to get on the bad side of the woman who owns your means of consumption? Not this guy. Every time the kid would shift even the slightest bit, the guy would raise his head from his plate and look around kind of pleading with everybody to make some sort of complaint on his behalf. He was in so much distress. That is when I came to the rescue, however unintentional that effort may have been. I pulled out my notepad to jot down another bad idea and, suddenly, the kid jolts over and starts reaching for my pad. I give him some paper, he sits down, does a little scritching, and is back for more. He starts repeating the phrase, “Hey, just three. Just three,” so I give him just three. Soon, he is right back for more. This time he takes the initiative and grabs a huge stack and just goes to tugging at it. I had to calm him down a little, but I still let him get away with much more than he probably deserved. That is when I noticed what he was doing with all that paper. He was making little flash cards with which to practice his numbers. All the sheets were laid out in front of him with a single number on each and he kept going through and counting. I sat there kind of in awe. It felt pretty cool and proud helping this little kid out and it was nice seeing him actually put in the effort. I knew he probably wanted even more so I got the idea to show him how he could tear the papers in half and save space for the rest of the numbers. It was too late though. The woman at the counter brought out the food and it almost seemed like she was rushing me away from the kid. I think she thought I was being aggrivated or something. It’s all good. She was only trying to keep me a happy customer. As I left, I could see that guy in front of the TV. He seemed relieved.

So, yes, the mall. It started off simple enough. I was feeling a little distrought, and I decided I would go watch a few movies to clear my head a bit. I had never done anything like this before. The whole idea of the movies being an escape never really rang true to me. I always heard about old people doing it.. anyway, it pretty much worked. I saw Pirates of the Caribbean and the Black Pearl or Whatever Subtitle, Talladega Nights, and My Super Ex-Girlfriend. I got to see the first two at matine prices, so I decided to go ahead and buy the last one instead of movie hopping. The whole experience was pretty exciting. The movies kind of pumped me up. I felt like some kind of action hero walking through the empty halls of a post-apocalyptic underground bunker. Oh, and the nachos. I ate quite a few nachos, but I probably ate around 200% more jalapenos. No, I am not that into jalapenos, but my reasoning was that if they were going to keep charging me six bucks everytime I got nachos, I was going to get my money’s worth. I saw this documentary a while back about this woman who collected movie cups and obsessively attended screenings at her local theater. I kept thinking of her, and about halfway through Talladega Nights I began to imagine I was her. It did not last for more than a few minutes, though. It was not all that fun either. I really should not have even put that here. I am loosing focus. Next topic.

Those thirty to fourty minute stretches between the movies contained a few adventures of their own. On my way to Borders I noticed the GAP’s new ad campaign. I really like the designs with all the swirlys and the blues and stuff. The one model with the curly hair looks nice, too. Then in Borders some great stuff happened. I was already feeling on top of the world because of the movies, but then I got just about the greatest compliment I have ever received (top seven at least). I was debating whether or not I should purchase V for Vendetta (I did not.. maybe another time) when this guy (ha.. another guy) begins to approach me. I got a little nervous at first. He stuck his hand out and said, “Man, I just gotta shake your hand.” He started talking about how he really liked my hair and how he always sees guys walking around with their hair down (he kept making a certain motion with his hands that led me to assume he was talking about perms) and that I should keep on growing my hair the way it is. He had this thick but high country voice à la Blue Collar TV and a goofy smile, and I thought to myself, “This man has got to be kidding me. He’s poking fun at me right in my face.”  After 40 seconds or so he concluded with a thumbs up and a, “I’m serious, man. It’s good, keep it up!” That was when I realised he was serious. I could not believe it. Oh, but that is not all. There were these two guys that rolled up beside me as I was exploring the DVDs and I overheard one of them talking about how they were trying to find Pulp Fiction. Where was I? Right in front of Pulp Fiction, so I casually snatch it up and cooly present it to them. It felt good, mate, real good. Oh, but that is still not all. I always hang out in the comic section for a few minutes, just for good luck or something. There is usually never anything new, and there is usually never anything gone since the week before, but today was different. As I approached the shelf I could taste something incredible. I could smell something astounding. I could hear the magic whizzing through the air, and then I saw it. A big, red book titled Little Nemo 1905-1914. I didn’t even believe it at first. Why on Earth would someone like myself be blessed with such a miraculous opportunity? Then I thought no, of course. The price must be way out of range. I hesitantly reached for it secretly hoping that, just perhaps, it could be cheap. And.. twenty-two dollars. You heard me. The complete Little Nemo for twenty bucks. For anyone who does not know, Little Nemo is the greatest newspaper comic strip of all time. It is better than Calvin and Hobbes, Lio, and Mother Goose and Grim all rolled into one. Simply flipping through the book is a mind-numbing experience. Every page is so beautifully constructed and executed and the art is fantastic and so detailed and.. man. I still do not believe it. I have waited all my life for this moment. I didn’t even know about Little Nemo all my life, but I’ve still been waiting. It is a destiny thing; you wouldn’t understand.. or would you~?

On top of all of that, my grandmother showed up today from Tennessee out of freaking nowhere! It was, like, poof, hey, Grandma, alright! We will probably go to the movies.

Me and My Friend Lathen

So, as part of a graduation present, my ex-step dad gave me a bunch of boxes that contained a bunch of my old stuff. Really old stuff. I just started going through them today and, man, I am having a ball. Old art projects, science projects, history projects, math workbooks, gameboy games, clothes, erector sets, comic books.. everything you can possibly imagine. There were a few things I took extra effort to find; things that I have thought about a lot over the years and thought were long gone, but here they are. The first of these highly treasured items is a scrapbook I used to keep that contains a picture of Lathen, who was my best friend back when I lived in Panama. He lived right across the street from me and we were constantly hanging out and going on adventures down in el vallé where all the camen lived. We would have sleepovers and watch the entire Land Before Time series in one night and be late for the bus in the mornig. He had a sister who was way older than us (you can see her head in the bottom right). Maybe a year or two or three. I really do not know. Whenever I look back at stuff I tend to put myself as I am now in the picture and everyone is adjusted accordingly. I probably just do not remember those things all that well. She comes off as twenty or so. Anyway, I had a crush on her. I can recall one instance of me trying to get some alo~ne time with her. It was either the Christmas you see in the photo or a birthday of mine. I thought I was slick. Basically, I got a light-up Batmobile and the Outburst game as presents. Lathen really dug the Batmobile and really wanted to play with it, but his sister wanted to play Outburst. One day, I brought them both out and offered them as options for the evening’s activities knowing full well the choices they would make. Lathen immediately chose the Batmobile. When his sister made her choice, I casually opted to do the same. You know, it is my game so why should I feel any shame? You can’t play alone either. Nah, nah, nah. Lathen picked up on this gesture right away exclaiming something like, “Ooh, Edward likes (sorry, I forgot her name).” You know, typical kid stuff. It was all over between the two of us, as I was too embarrassed to continue any sort of courtship.

 The real story here is the story of their disappearance. In Panama, they lived with their mom and step dad. I do not know any real details, but one day I went over and found my mom comforting his crying mom and his step dad freaking out. About a week before that, Lathen and his sister had gone to visit their biological father way far away. It was a pretty sad occasion for the both of us. I think he was scheduled to be gone for a whole summer or something. He brought cookies over to say goodbye and he let me borrow his Donkey Kong game and we hugged and cried and cried and cried. Back to the future, his mom crying. My mom shooed me out of the house. I was all shaken up. I had no idea what was going on. Later that night they told me that Lathen and his sister had been kidnapped by their father and there was no way to find them. That was the most abrupt ending of a friendship I had ever experienced. That was about as closest I’ve ever gotten to having a dear friend dieing. Their parents moved away after that. I am not sure if the step dad got out of the military or what, but they were gone. I can remember a few things about their house. Lathen’s room was a freaking jungle gym. He had this loft bed which seemed gigantic at the time and a TV and a computer in his room. We could sit on the bed and see the TV and then climb under it and play chess on the computer. We had no clue whatsoever how to play chess so we would cheat. I remember the first time he showed it to me. He just clicked hint-hint-hint-hint-hint until the game was over and we won. We believed we were good at it, too. Chessmasters. Minesweeper was the same way. His parents had a beautiful fish tank. Their driveway had hella windchimes and they had this white car. Over the years, as the military moved us around, I would see dozens of that type of car stroll by and think maybe it was them and they were all happy and together again.

Yeah, so I miss him big time even now and finding this photo has absolutely made my day.

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