**D’abord, je suis très désolé pour les erreurs qu’on trouvera ici. Il a fait longtemps depuis que j’ai écrit en français. Mais, en même temps, je voudrais demander que vous portiez les erreurs à mon attention pour que je puisse les corriger. Pour moi, c’est la meilleure manière d’apprendre.Merci !**

Je pense que j’ai épiquement échoué mon examen aujourd’hui. Maintenant, j’ai des doutes sérieux de devenir avocat.

Dans cet examen, il s’agit de la loi de fidéicommis, et les effets des événements de la vie (la morte, le mariage, le divorce, etc.) sur la propriété. Je vous conseille de ne pas se marier…ni mourir. Tout deviendra trop compliqué. Au moins, je l’ai trouvé plus compliqué que le reste des choses que je dois apprendre avant d'être avocat.

Il a fait un an depuis que j’ai commencé à faire dudroit. Au début, j’attendais que le travail était dur et que les jours étaientlongue, mais je pensais que c’était quelque chose que je pouvais faire. Lapremière série de notes m’a étonné. Depuis ce moment-là j’ai fortement essayéde ne pas être un étudiant « C ». Je n’ai pas réalisé succès à cet égard.

Il y a beaucoup de choses qui m’énervent au moment.  Les notes sont une. Aussi, je suis nul en« networking ». Un but important est établir contacts avec autre étudiants qui vont être avocats aussi. Selon mon avis, je pense que je ne réussis qu’à exaspérer les personnes que je rencontre…Je doute d’employer avec exactitude le mot « ami » (sauf quand je serais ivrogne) pourdécrire une seule relation que j’ai depuis avoir commencé à faire du droit.

En même temps, je pense qu’il y a des personnes qui s’opposeront à cette proposition (que je n’ai pas d’amis ici). Mais, c’est un ressentiment…même si pas lié a la réalité. Je pense que cela démontre macapacité d’exaspérer le monde, n’est-ce pas?

A un niveau basique, je manque un entendre humain et fondamental. Je n’ai pas de confiance d’entendre les autres. C’est un problème si on veut travailler dans un métier qui aide les gens à résoudre leurs problèmes.

Maintenant, je suis au bord de l’été et, encore, je n’ai pas de stagiaire. C’est à cause, partiellement, d’être paresseux en en cherchant, mais aussi de ne pas avoir de bonnes notes…J’ai plans d’étudier en Espagne en juillet, mais je pense que je passerai mai et juin sans faire rien. : (

Plus que être avocat, je veux réussir. Je sais que faire le succès de la vie est longue et difficile…c’est beaucoup plus dur si on n’est pas sûr de marcher le bon chemin. Mercredi, j’ai un autre examen. J’espèrequ’il aille mieux, mais j’ai mes doutes.

There comes a point when you're preparing for finals that you stop caring about:

1. What you're eating

2. What you're wearing

3. The last time you took a shower

4. Just about anything that's not related to trusts and estates, business organizations, or tax...

I'm there.

So, today, I put on my slip-ons and donned my backpack and made the jaunt down the street the library. Oh yeah...I'm wearing my pijamas as I blog. The really amazing part is that no one else cares either.

Finals stress creates this weird sense of nervous camaraderie. Everyone's terrified. And, everyone's hoping that everyone else fails. Even your friends...they want you to do well, but they want to do better. That's the name of the game though in law school. There are few professions where success depends on how badly you beat the other guy...*sigh*

But, I'm here now typing up the last eight weeks of notes from Business Organizations. I think I may have taken too many notes. My informal survey indicates that people take anywhere from 1/4 of a page to two pages of notes. In contrast, I have 4-5 pages of notes everyday...I hope I'm not making things too complicated.

And while we're on the subject, I've been getting this question lately: "Why are you making this so complicated?" The real answer is "because that's just what  I do." If it's not worthy complicating, it's not worth doing, right? Right? In the context of studying, I tell myself its because I'm trying to find the holes or gaps in different concepts to find the precise ends where I can use a particular rule to solve a problem or else resort to a different one. But, I fear that might be a lie...sadly, I'm still the most likely to be deceived by myself.

The second time I got that question this week, I begin to think about it. I realized that I may be inventing ridiculous hypotheticals because I'm overwhelmed by how little I know about the subject matter. I think I'm trying to pretend to have mastery and, in doing so, trick myself into a false sense of confidence about how much I know. My reasoning is that if I can focus on the loopholes, it must mean that I'm comfortable with the general principals. On reflection, however, this is not the case.

Alas, I'm going to fail out of law school. Oh well. At least summer vacation is only a week away.

Also, "Somebody that I Used to Know" has been stuck in my head for the past week. Does anyone else have this problem?

You just end up getting syrup everywhere and find all over your clothes. It's kind of gross. However, there are comparatively few options when someone at your "table" gives you stink eye.

For me, law school is much more like high school than high school was...but there aren't as many jocks. There were more people in my graduating senior class in high school than there are currently attending law school, which is still weird to me.

While I did well academically in high school, I tried my hardest to avoid the drama that often accompanies high-school relationships. It was a good move then, but it left me socially crippled later. I continued the avoidance tactic throughout college--and while I was never sure how voluntary my failure to interact with others was, I think it was more voluntary than I thought. As a consequence, in the past year, I've talked to only a dozen people that I either: (1) attended high school with; or (2) attended college with. This includes my two younger brothers who attended high school at the same time I did and one guy I know from law school who happened to go to the same high school I did. It's kind of sad.

Ultimately, I waited too long in life to learn how to make friends. My attempts and interacting with people seem forced and awkward (because they are) and I very often cross boundaries of socially appropriate behavior. Similarly, I cannot resolve conflicts; I never know whether to "fix" or "ignore," which can rub people the wrong way...especially when you try to do one and they try to do the other. Hence...the stink eye.

So, I avoided. No matter what the actual circumstances are, I think it's better to prevent others' discomfort or potential awkwardness when it's easy for me to do. It's not worth the risk. At this point I'm used to being the weirdo, so I feel like I can deal with whatever weirdness happens from avoiding than what would happen if I thrust myself into a situation. Rather than having not-quite-midnight breakfast inside, I ate alone outside...That sounds sad, but it really wasn't. The evening was incredibly beautiful.

The lights along the jogging trail were reflected in the river. There's a fascination with being able to watch yourself, imagining and observing your behavior from other than your point of view. A little objectivity--even if artificial--can go a long way. Plus, it's just nice to be outside when the weather's fresh and cool. As I was walking back around the building (because the back doors were locked), I even saw some people setting out hammocks. It looked delightful.

Anyway, I have loads of studying to do...and I promised to make chicken tortilla soup for a friend. Plus, I keep finding crystallized maple-impersonation syrup on my body. There's no time to live inside my head as much as I do, but I think I'm addicted. Ooo! Maybe I chose to eat outside because the breakfast event was like a metaphor for the bustle and activity that's happening in my own mind; sometimes I just need to get away...or maybe I realized that I could never actually be happy/content there...Alas, that is another blog for another time. MUST...STUDY...TRUSTS...AND...ESTATES...

Even Katy Perry would be uncomfortable singing about what happened last THURSday night...But, that sort of thing happens after a margarita, a shot of tequila and half a bottle of vodka. The important thing is that I'm alive...even if all my "friends" now think that I'm a super creeper. (Use of quotation marks intentional--I'm calling into question my ability to preserve these relationships.)

Warning: Too long. Don't read.

My Thursday intentions were: (1) clean my apartment; (2) get a haircut; (3) go shopping for sunglasses; (4) purchase sunglasses; (5) drive to my parent's lake house. I had an unexpected three-day weekend and I was going to take advantage of it to get away for a while. Finals are approaching and I'm FREAKING OUT. It turns out that I'm handling the stress even worse than I thought I was...as recent events have shown.

After I had cleaned the apartment for a while, I decided that I needed to take a shower so my hair would be clean for the haircut. No sooner had I gotten dressed and moved laundry over did I hear a knock on the door. Jamocahontas and the Straggler were there. Even worse, they wouldn't let me see them through the peephole. Letting them in was a mistake. They were drunk and just got back from getting belly-button piercings, which did look cute BTW. They basically set out my kitchen table telling me how lame I was for not drinking with them and doing my laundry instead. In my defense, my laundry really needed to be done.

They continued drinking, however, and I couldn't really kick them out because they were too drunk to drive (even though they could have walked over to Jamocahontas' boyfriend's apartment which is literally a block/three-minute walk away). I told them how they had ruined my plans for the evening...and then they coerced me into taking them sunglasses shopping. I wasn't happy. The first major issue that Jamocahontas genuinely dislikes me. She's always looking for a way to cut me down or upset me. That night, it took the form of making me feel ridiculous for liking any pair of sunglasses that I thought were cool. And while I thought the Straggler could at least be objective, she was clearly influenced by what the other said. And that upset me because Jamocahontas had been terrible to her just a few weeks before...and I had gone out of my way to be nice to her.

But...that's the rule of attractive people: you'll forgive those who are pretty and screw those who aren't. Guess in which category I fall...

Anyway, after sunglasses shopping was a bust, I started to go home (there's no way I could squeeze in a haircut at this point). Jamocahontas and the Straggler wanted to go to a bar. But, I didn't want to. However, I really did not want them back in my apartment so I went to the bar. Plus, I had been wanting to go there. It's one of the few places I'd heard good things about that I hadn't actually seen yet. Once we got there, they protested. They said it was dumb and that we shouldn't be there. TOO LATE! I went inside. They stayed in the car. I ordered drink 1. Eventually, they came in. I told some girl in the bar that my name was Doug. It's not. Then I ordered drink 2. We left soon after that. They, however, were not ready to go home and I wasn't driving them around anymore. So, I told them I was walking home. Really, I just made the block and picked my care up again. By that time, they had already started to walk to Jamocahontas' boyfriend's apartment, which was only five or so blocks from there.

Yes. I made two girls walk home at night. BUT! The worst part was that, once I got back in my car, I drove the route they would have taken and when I saw them, I honked really loudly at them. They were frightened. They were also safe. Then, I drove to Jamocahontas' boyfriend's apartment to drop off the drinks they left/to make sure they arrived and weren't kidnapped.

Then there were shots.

Then I got impatient and drank from the bottle.

(Tangential rant: I think I was super confused about what terms the Straggler and I are/were on. I was half-toying with the idea that we could be a couple, but not any time soon because of a recent breakup on her end. I thought we'd had some pretty good talks, but if she's hanging with Jamocahontas, there's no way she wants to be even friends. She may be the kind of girl who doesn't want to expose her feelings for fear of being hurt...and I get that. But, don't try to work the outcome you want by being sneaky! AAAHH! I do NOT understand why girls do the things they do! End rant.)

Then we we went to another bar. That's when things got really weird. At some point, the hall-bottle kicked all the way in and I blacked out. I didn't realize this until this morning, but I apparently tried to make out with one of my friends. The weird part is that it was one of my guy friends. I don't have all the details--it's not an easy subject to bring up--so I don't know whether it was like a full-on attempt at making out, or if it was like a I'm-really-drunk-and-you're-such-a-good-friend-I-think-I-could-kiss-you scenario. I'm sure I'll find out later. In either case, what bothers me is what I was thinking leading up to the moment. When I imagine the moment itself, I can't help but laugh. There's no way that was not hysterical.

I regained some sort of consciousness at the bar when I needed to throw up. I was cognizant enough to grab a cup and use it...until it got too full. Then, I felt a presence in the bar...it was Britney Griner, the star player of our national-champion Lady Bears. I didn't actually see her, but I could tell she was there.

Also, I may have said something offensive about lesbians...I don't know. I apologize if I did.

Anyway, my "friends" eventually got me out of the bar and I went home...sending text messages all the way. Fun fact about me: the more I drink, the more likely I am to apologize use an emoticon. This one: "<3" lit up the night along with my textual apologies--I even apologized to people for things I didn't do to them!

I guess sometimes it's just best to have your bases covered.

When I got home, I changed into my jammies and went to bed. I was actually awake bright and early (with a little wooziness--no headache, no nausea fortunately). I drove to the lake house then. Then started my weekend-long study/veg fest. That part was nice...and not self-destructive.

Friday I got some pictures of the event. I looked classy as usual. (HAH!) I was also charged with breaking a phone. But, the timing is wrong. If it had happened when Jamocahontas said, I would have remembered. In fact, she said it happened before we all went to the bar...and I drove us all to the bar. She would not have let me drive her to a bar if I was not able to remember breaking a phone. I don't remember because it didn't happen. I think she just wants someone to pay for her clumsiness...

Anyway, when I got to school this morning I was re-reading texties I had sent out Thursday and I found my make-out apologies. Yes...plural. It made class a mite awkward since I sit next to that guy in T&E. Oh well.

If anyone has any better stress-coping mechanisms, I'd love to hear them.

But, the reason I've placed this in the "Identity Crisis" series is because I'm reeling from the thoughts racing through my minds about wth I am right now. When did I become such a lush? Is it who I want to be or just what I deal with because I cannot handle everything going on around me?

I've NEVER been able to handle stress well. In fact, I'm sure my inability to handle stress will be the end of me. Someday, I'll freak out about a little thing and I'll drop dead from a panic attack. I'll be thirty-five. It seems sad, but I know that's how it'll happen. So, I just need to make sure that I have a will and no debt by that time...both of which are stressful goals. IT NEVER STOPS!

Anyway, the real problem is that I don't know how I want to proceed. On the one hand, I don't mind being drunk. On the other, I won't have friends if I keep trying to make out with them randomly. So...it's a tough call. I think, at bottom, I need to figure out what I want from life and make a selection that best fits with that goal. The trouble I'm facing, however, is that all I want from life is it to be over. I just want to be an old man who sits in his cardigan on his rocking chair on the front porch, yelling at neighborhood children and flipping off the cars who don't make a full stop at the stop sign. Of course, I'll never get there because I'll die at thirty-five. But, that leaves me back where I started: what do I want?

Frankly, I don't know. I've spent most of my life hurrying up to get done to move on to the next thing, which is fine for high school...and even for college when you're planning on law school. Now, though, I'm not sure. I think I want to be a person who contributes to society...but that seems empty and a social construct more than a latent desire. I used to think that I wanted a family, but at this point I'm terrified that I couldn't love a child who has too many of the attributes I dislike about myself.

Maybe that's what I need: just not being afraid. It's a fair criticism to say that my life has been a study in fear. In fact, I think my addiction to it is stronger than my need for caffeine. I can't motivate myself without it. I need it to keep going, and I need it to keep me from going too far. Fear simultaneously pushes me forward and holds me back. It's the only "check" I have in this out-of-control world. I hate it; but I'm too scared to live without it. In many ways, it's the only way of life that I've known.

I've romanticized fear. I've looked at its etymology (it traces back to PIE) and made it into something that has a grim beauty. I've tried to understand it, face it, approach it, run from it. As many tactics as I have, it has many more responses. And that makes sense in a way: rear is necessarily a response. The question is what stimuli are behind it. For me, there are many: fear of loneliness, failure, fear of hating myself forever, fear of disappointing others, fear of inauthenticity, rejection, hurt, and of vulnerability, fear of misunderstanding, fear of the unknown, fear of others, fear of imperfection. I could continue, but I think you get it. To get anything done, I have to play my fears off of each other and opt for the lesser of them...

I used to pride myself on my imagination. No matter how fantastic/terrible/awesome/incredible/scary/disgusting something was, I could imagine it. Now, I feel caught in a rut and can't contemplate a different way of life. Alas, it seems that I'm stuck being that creepy guy with nothing to lose except the very thing that keeps him going and that holds him back. Racked with stress and fear...moving quickly, because I have to, but without a direction so long as I reach the finish line and worrying all the time that I won't.

Stressed, unnerved, awkward, disliked, confused, unimaginative, lost, scared. Damn. I think I've resolved my crisis of identity.

**Perdón. Ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que escribo enespañol. Pero, voy a España este verano y necesito ampliar mi vocabulario. Paramí, esribir es la mejor manera. Si hay errores, mil disculpas. También, si hayerrores, házme el favor de decirme para que no comita el mismo error. Mil gracias.**

Anoche me acosté tarde. Muchos pensamientos pesaban en mi cabezay no pude dormir. No sé adónde fueron los días de este trimestre. No sé quéhacía cuando yo debía estudiar. Pero, frente a los exámenes, siento que he matadodemasido tiempo. Ya me preocupo por las notas…y tengo miedo de perder mi beca.

En ese momento de reflección, yo pensaba de qué es el tiempoperdido. Una vez, oí dicho que “si pasas un momento haciendo lo que quieres, eltiempo no es perdido.” Más y más, pienso que lo creo. Este refrán muestra quehay una tensión entre lo que se debe hacer y lo que se quiere hacer. Generalmente,escoger lo preferido no resulta de desperdicio.

Por el otro lado, no estoy seguro de haber gustado losmomentos. Por primera vez de mi vida, yo tomo el alcohol como una actividadsocial…es decir que yo bebo cuando estoy con gente. El problema es que beber esla única cosa que hago con otros…y beber puede anteceder a malas decisiones. Deboestar claro: no he hecho nada ilegal o peligroso, pero sí que he dicho cosas a “amigos”que arrepiento. Por eso es posible que mi tiemp fuera perdido.

Hay una canción de la 5a Estación que dice: “tras variostequilas, los nubes se van pero el sol no regresa.” Quiere decir que elproblema no siente tan mal como antes, pero todavía nada se ameliora. Allí meencuentro. Estoy sumetido a muchas presiones, pero los ignoro. A veces esnecesario ignorarlos…sin embargo, otras veces, es preciso liberarse del estréspor hacer algo afirmativo y no sencillamente ignorarlos. Lo difícil es decidircuál es la respuesta correcta.

¡Ay…no sé qué hacer! De veras, lo mejor es disfrutar lo quenecesito hacer. Espero que se conviertan mis deberes en mis placeres. Y sigoesperando…

I should probably begin by expressing my apologies and gratitude to Mr. Easter Rabbit. If you're out there reading, you have shown me a valuable lesson in humility and grace.

Saturday night, mi hermano y yo went to watch SNL at the home of our friends. When we for back home, it was late. The nocturnal fauna had been roaming about for a while by the time I pulled into the driveway. As we walked up the curves sidewalk to the door, I noticed a glare reflecting the porch light.

It was a bunny.

We both stared at it for a while. Then I said, "Do you think I can hit it with my keys?" My brother nodded affirmatively. Bunny didn't move...until the soft earth muffled the metallic tinkle.

To make a long story short, I missed. I lost my keys in the grass, and hopperoo bounded toward the vegetable garden. In my defense, I had drunk a lot...and was exceptionally tired. I couldn't think straight.

Fortunately, I still had candy in the morning. But no booze. The Easter Bunny taught me a valuable lesson: Don't throw your keys in the dark...or at people bringing you presents. I was a fool. But I'll forever have he memory of my cotton-tailed sensei.

Tired + Unfocused = Danceparty!

 If that is not the proper orthography, it most def' should be. There are few things more awesome than smashing "dance" and "party" together into one, epic-good-time word. And yes, an exclamation point should always follow.

 Since I turned in the brief Monday, I've finally had a chance to breathe. I still wake up in the middle of the night, rearranging paragraphs on the pages  I see in my mind. But...this too shall pass. With the sense of "extra time," I've been able to make dinner again. I even went jogging this week, which I hadn't done in a long time. However, I think I make the best use of these bonus minutes by the private dance parties I've been holding nightly.

And just to be clear..."private" means just me.

While I've felt like I've had more time, I've been really tired and just want to sleep. I find it incredibly difficult to read about director's fiduciary duties to shareholders (which isn't so bad compared to reading about whetherthe income of an inter-vivos trust is subject to attachment by the beneficiary's judgment creditors). Instead, I press my "procrastination" button and opt for the danceparty! instead.

The typical playlist features: Pit Bull, Luis Fonsi, Shakira, Stromae, the B.E.P.'s, Afro Jack, Gaga, Enrique Iglesias, as well as others. The best part of music is the way that it intergrates different musical components into one whole--the song. It's more than just sound. A strong base line, for example, can literally make your heart jump. There's something about using lyrics to carry a melody over a driving beat and unapologetic baseline that make me feel dancy everytime.

I'm coining this feeling "choreogogy." The adjective form will be "choreogogic." It's from Greek /khoreia/ (dance) and /agogos/ (leader). Compare: chorus, choreography, pedagogy, and demagog. It's new. I typed it into the Google and got no results.

Once the choreogogy strikes, I have no defenses. I spend the next few minutes flailing about like a spastic crane. Sometimes I move about so awkwardly I make myself laugh. (Being able to laugh at yourself is bonus when your limbs are as lanky as mine.) Plus, the physical component adds another dimenstion to the "meaning" of the song. Good times.

I know there are better things I should be doing with my time--like reading, typing notes, putting my outlines together, etc. But those aren't as fun as making your body look like a giant, fleshy slinky...I wish I were kidding. Somewhere there's a video on Facebook to prove it (another contributing factor in my departure from Facebook).

How often do dance at home alone? I need to know that I'm not the only one...I can't be. You should try it. (If you're just getting started, sometimes a margarita helps.) What do you do when you should be doing other things?

It's not only a currency or a fancy pillow--it's a look I'm trying to pull off. I've discovered that attempting this new "eurosthetic" is necessary for two reasons.

First, and most urgently, I think it will be helpful in meeting people--particularly lady people. I'm just another ordinary white guy. But, with a weird hairdo, capri jeans, and a knit-top, a phony accent, I'm exotic! (or gay) The trouble is, it would be a lot easier to meet girls, but at some point I would have to tell them I'm not German/Dutch/Scandinavian. I should note, however, that the only time an attractive girl has started a conversation with me at a bar was when I had my hair up in a quasi-Euro style...it was Alyssa's twenty-first birthday party. Good times...until someone spills a drink on the back of your pants. Those are bad times. : (

Second, I'm going to Spain and Switzerland this summer. While I had fun being a tourist, I think there's an added sense of excitement and adventure when you can blend into the surroundings and not be noticed because it looks like you belong. I would feel like a spy. Not a government spy...but like a cultural spy. I'm gathering information, experiences, and stories to share with others about a trip I had once. The sense of hiding in plain sight that way is thrilling. Plus, that's the only way I think that I'll be able to tell whether I can speak the language as well as I think I do. If I look out of place, and I sound out of place, people will realize that I'm out of place. But, if I fit in and sound of place, people will be confused. With the looks of confusion, I'll be able to assess my proficiency with the language.

So...tonight, after jogging and showering, I put on a pair of skinny jeans, brightly colored sneaks' and I faux-hawked the top of my hair and fluffed the back. It looks pretty convincing if I say so myself. If I could just get that accent down, though...The far-Northern European countries were my first choices because I look like a Northern European...however, I don't speak any of those languages so I couldn't fake the accent very well. I do speak French...but I don't look French. My best bet may actually to pretend to be Belgian. Belgians are pretty honky and some of them speak French. That may work. One of my French teachers was French and she was even whiter than I am!

But, here's the question I pose to you: Say you meet a guy who you think is foreign and exotic. How does he break the news that the foreign thing was a ruse just to lubricate the initial meeting process? How does he do it so that you're not offended or think that he's a lying creep-wad?

Note: If anyone says, "Oh...don't worry about and just be yourself, you'll meet some one," I WILL CYBER SLAP YOU. That statement is demonstrably false. Other than that, though, your comments are invited.

It's a paraphrase of one snippet of a conversation I had Saturday night. However, it was jam-packed with information and perspective I had never considered. It gave a flavor of genuiness and revelation in an otherwise bland weekend. That quip was one of the most powerful bits of communication I've received in a long time.

(Disclaimer: long-winded, convoluted, rant-like post follows.)

I still think that my ex-roomate's girfriend...who will henceforth be known as "Jamocahontas"...hates me. At least, there's some anger simmering under the surface. She refuses to acknowledge it (likely because she doesn't want to recognize some flaw/insecurity in herself), but there's something there. At least, I think so, I've been known to give myself too much credit. I get it; I've upset plenty of people in my life. I do wish I knew what it was though, not because I think I can "fix" it, but (1) out of simple curiosity; and (2) if possible, I would like to avoid it in the future. I'm willing to admit that I could be a better human.

Anyway, that's a little bit of the back story. That gets us to Friday night. It's not unusual for this group of "friends" (intentional use of quotation marks) to go out. I, however, was not aware of any plans, so I had spent most of the day cooking as stress relief. Jamocahontas called and asked me over to ex-roomate's apartment. I couldn't go because I had just put a cinnamon/apple/banana bread in the oven and it was not close to being done. Soon after, I hear a knock on my door. It's them...plus another straggler from school. It turns out she had gotten them all to come over to my apartment.

She knows having people over makes me uncomfortable.

I know that that's not a normal thing. Usually I can deal with it, but I need my home to be clean and have some expectation of people's arrival. I had neither of those. Plus, my apartment smelled bad because of the frying I had been doing. Fried food = delicious; frying oil = nasty. AND! My bed wasn't made and my bathroom was gross. C'etait le pire. J'avais trop honte.

Eventually, we went out. Fortunately (for me) she was angrier with the straggler who was with us than she was at me...so I didn't bear the brunt of malfeasance that evening. Saturday night, though, was a different story. There was a birthday party (I didn't go, didn't know about because I'm not on FB) and others were meeting at other guys' place for beer pong afterward. Jamocahontas invited me. I made her promise to be pleasant. Toward the end of the evening, though, she broke her promise, and the conversation quickly devolved into weird, oral thrusts...and not the good kind.

Part of it was fueled by crazy question games: "You're in a duel and you have to choose a weapon, what do you pick? GO!" Part of it was the alcohol. A lot of it was being in over my head. Frankly, Jamocahontas is brilliant--a lot smarter than I am--and I find that intimidating. Anyway, the conversation turned to her and my ex-roommate's relationship (note: ex-roommate wasn't there). She claimed, and others agreed, that he had begun to calm down/mature/go through that inexplicable change that guys go through when they've met someone that they love. I simply said that I didn't see it. (I had been looking for it. Initially I thought their relationship was doomed, and I hate being wrong. Petty, I know, but it's true. I'm flawed.)

She retorted: "Well, he only ever wants to hang out with you when he's drunk."

The strange thing is, even though the one-word retort can be snarky and, at times, even hurtful, it's loaded with information. I still find them among the most-effective means of communication. Making a good quip requires synthesizing a lot of information and reducing into just a few words. A good quip has an immediate impact, the manifestation of the "witty" component, and a longer-lasting, unpacking effect--the communicative component. It's this second part that I find interesting.

Like a classic poem, the thoughtful quip reveals much more than the literal meaning of the words it uses. There are layers. The quip depends on the hearer's own experience to achieve the highest form of expression. It has the ability to make one contemplate a situation in a new and useful way. It's the smallest, purest way that somone else can put his or her perspective in your head.

In this case, I've been rolling the implications around in my mind for a while. At the first level, it achieved its goal: she knocked me off balance and got in a good zing. I began to disentangle the assumptions I'd formed about whatever sort of "friend"ship/camaraderie ex-roommate and I had. I had to realize that she was right. That realization, triggered the great "unpacking" adventure.

The first questions I entertained were "Who have I become? Why do others only want me around when they're drunk?" I didn't spend much time here because I didn't like the answers. Given events earlier in the week, namely learning a formula in Business Organizations, I realized that people generally have little use for me if I'm not making a fool of myself. Basically, the only thing I bring (note: it's not the only thing I CAN bring, just what I DO bring) is whatever sort of entertainment value follows from perpetual self-destruction. The really sad part is the cyclical component: if I want to be liked, I have to be down on myself, but people who are downers aren't liked. I'm in a world of increasingly shrinking (if not negative) returns...hence the distance and coolness.

Next, I began to harmonize what she said with other perceptions. Earlier, she explained the origins of this, which was also a surprise, but completely feasible. In fact, it's the explanation that makes the most sense. I hate it when reality sneaks up like a ninja in an alleyway. Essentially, I make it impossible for others to be honest with me.

Furthermore, it was true! A resounding theme for my life recently is that I'm tolerable only in certain, limited circumstances. It's important to note, though, the only free time most people I know have is already devoted to drinking...so there is some overlap, but this overlap doesn't fully explain the issue.

In the end, I was left with nothing more than a few, depressing conclusions:

1. I don't like who I am. And while I didn't like the person I was before, this is a change for the worse, not the better.

2. Any progress I've made on the "real relationsip" front is illusory. I've realized that of the "friends" I've made, none has (because they can't, I won't allow it) any real stake in who I am as a person.

3. I'm the one who invites craziness, subterfuge, and manipulation into my life. I know that there are people who have relationships that aren't built on "outdoing" others, but those people have honesty and authenticity. I've never had a beneficial result from the application of those "virtues."

So, like I said before, I love the communicative power that a quip carries. It puts you face to face with a reality you couldn't know before. I know that it can be dangerous. But, I do value honesty, even if it only makes me sad. I am willing to hear the ugly when it accurately reflects some truth. Having meshed her view of reality with my own was instructive. The question now is what to do with this new information?

...

Nothing comes to mind immediately...but don't worry, that's why I have a blog. You'll learn about it soon enough...probably as soon as I do.

…mais vous écoutez encore…

 

J’ai travaillé sur un papier toute la longue de la journée. Qui savait que le premiere amendement était tellement compliqué?

 

Récemment, je me sens très de stressé. Comme conséquence, j’ai cuisiné. J’ai fait de la cuisine allemande. J’avais de chou et de pommes de terre qui se trouvaient au point de s’abimer. Le problème face à moi maintenant est que j’ai beaucoup de nourriture…et je ne peux pas la partager.

 

Alors, je vais retourner chez mois…et ne pas manger…car j’ai déjà trop mangé aujourd’hui.