It was nearly three years ago that I abandoned The Plan. I walked out on a relationship and my boyfriend of over four years, I wa Read the rest of this entry »
Even though it’s better that I’m not going home (I can’t afford to lose working time traveling, it’d be a hassle, etc) I’m kind of sad about not going to O-Town for Thanksgiving, because there are traditions.
Wednesday I forced myself up early to edit my Midterm. Around 11 AM I hit the “I can’t do anything more about it” mindset, printed it out and turned it in. Then I went off to attempt to read for my Thursday class; I didn’t even bother to try and read any of the Foucault for my Interpretive Methods class. (And, because of Feminist Political Thought with Favorite-Professor, I knew enough about Foucault to still speak up in that class today. Thanks Skidmore-Government Department!)
There was a pizza & beer party for our program, but I didn’t stay long. I had some free wine, talked to some poly-sci people within my program, and then went home and returned the phone calls I’d ignored the past few days.
I talked to Jill-IAN tonight, and while we were on the phone she got a call from Drucifer, who she hasn’t seen since recently leaving our Workplace, and it occured to me that it is not so much that I miss him, but I do miss the three of us together. We were a team. When I think about all we did this summer together, I get sad because I have no equivalent here, and I miss them, and I miss New York, and I am thinking of our last night in Brooklyn and how whole I felt. I grant that I’m closer to Jill-IAN than Drew, and she would say the same for me, but we both love him for his no-BS advice, among other things. … What I wouldn’t give right now for a night at 3JP.
At my 2nd good-bye party (yeah, did I ever mention that? I had TWO going away parties because I became such a social-fucking-butterfly in New York…I don’t get it either) I pulled Drew and Jill aside for a second just because I needed a moment to formally recognize the awesomeness of our dynamic and friendship or something. I am lame.
I’m not neccesarily happy, overall, with the way things are going here in Chicago. But I am extraordinarily grateful for the best support system in the world.
I’m so glad I’m escaping the muggy, sticky city this weekend, and even happier that it’s to go see the Laura & Sebastian. I’ve missed them. It was one of those things that just hit me when I was walking home from work last week; I really miss them, and so I need this trip, so the three of us can hang out before we’re off to Chicago, India, and Romania respectively.
I mean, these are the people who were a huge part of making that December 2004 what it was:
Conversations We Were Always on the Verge of Having
On weekend nights, while most college students were at some type of parties, we would go to a bookstore or on some other errand. Then we’d drive to an out of the way Dunkin Donuts to avoid seeing Skidmore students. One night, we don’t feel like going home right away, and we’re almost as Laura’s apartment when a Bon Jovi song comes on the radio. We shocked that Sebastian knows all the words.
“You know who Bon Jovi is?” I ask
He gives me a dirty look. “Of course I know who Bon Jovi is. I’ve been living in Eastern Europe, not under a rock.”
“And you know the words?”
“I like this song.”
“Wow, I thought I was the only one who had such shameful taste in music.”
“My taste in music is also…shameful,” and he lists off a number of singers that he likes.
“Lets drive around making confessions!” Laura suggests.
“I saw Love, Actually last weekend, and cried,” I admit, and make the turn onto Broadway instead of into the parking lot of Laura’s building.
And so we are off, admitting things that we’re mildly ashamed of and finding common ground in places we never thought possible.
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One Saturday, Sebastian declared it “bash liberal democracy” day, so we forced him to go to Target. Now, we are driving around Wilton, looking for something to do.
“My housemate is dating a libertarian. Which is totally unfair since she’s a radical femi-nazi, socialist,” I complain
“Couldn’t you just find a libertarian?” Sebastian asks.
In the backseat, Laura laughs outright. I pout. “No. There aren’t that many of them.”
“Well I’m sure you could find one if you paid enough,” Sebastian says kindly.
I ask, in equal measures shock and amusement: “Did you just tell me to get a prostitute?”
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We have just been to Scotty’s and now we’re taking the long way home, Route 32 to Route 50 through Wilton. These back roads and dark and quiet and deserted.
We’re talking above crushes and how much any one of them can screw with your head. I express my frustration that none of the dates I’ve gone on in the past month have worked out.
“They haven’t worked out because you’re still in love with HeWhoShallNotBeNamed,” Sebastian says smugly.
“I know! Shut up! I know. I don’t want to hear it!”
I’m extremely self-aware, but I do like the validation. The conversation turns to Laura and I comparing stupid things we have done over boys that we like. We’re trying to one-up each other, going as far back as Middle School with our stories.
Sebastian shakes his head. “You girls are pathetic.”
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Speaking up in Modern Political Thought is always mildly nerve-wracking; it’s easy to be intimidated by our Favorite Professor.
“I always get the impression that he thinks I’m really stupid because of my “like” habit,” I say.
“Yeah, I get that impression too,” Sebastian says. There’s a silence before he realizes to add: “I meant about him thinking I’m stupid for my like habit!”
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We are on our way to Borders, because Sebastian has a gift certificate awarded to him by the Honors Forum – for which we tease him mercilessly.
“You need to corrupt me into buying something,” Sebastian says.
“What, like porn?” I ask off-handedly.
“I suppose that was payback for the libertarian prostitute remark.”
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It’s nearly one AM, but we’re not tired, so we’re driving south on 87. As we talk, we’re finishing each other’s sentences, and neither of us require full explanations from the other – we just understand. We stop at the 24 hour Price Chopper, because she wants cookies. There is something way too much fun about late night trips to nowhere.
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It’s the last Saturday night of the semester. It’s been an odd day, and I don’t really feel like going out. But I force myself to call Laura, because I know I have to be the one to drag the other two misanthropes out.
“I’ll pick you up in a few minutes,”
“Ok, I just have to change out of pajamas”
“Um yeah, so do I.”
She giggles. “So do you think Sebastian has to change out of pajamas too?”
As has become tradition, we’re go to Dunkin’ Donuts. I make fun of Sebastian, who by the way, did have to change out of pajamas before coming out, for his very bourgeois drink
“So I was reading about Kwanzaa…” Laura starts.
“What’s that?” Sebastian interrupts.
“It’s an African holiday,” I offer.
“In that case, I don’t care,” he says, as Laura continues the explanation that Kwanzaa is an African holiday celebrating the harvest. “In that case, I really don’t care.”
I can’t stop laughing. The workers behind the counter are staring at me.
************************************************
“I’m happy to be getting out of here,” I explain, because I have been waiting for graduation since I turned in my acceleration forms last October. “But I’m really going to miss you guys.”
“Yeah, who are you going to discuss HeWhoShallNotBeNamed with?” Laura asks.
“And who is Sebastian going to get to drive him around?” I tease. “No…I really am going to miss you guys. If both of you were going to be up here next semester I’d almost want to stay. Now I’m gonna cry…I am so lame.”
We’re almost back to campus when Laura sighs; “Man, we really all screwed up picking a college.”
“Hey, they offered me a full scholarship, I have an excuse!” Sebastian exclaims.
“That’s true. And Rachel managed to pick the wrong college twice. She really sucks!”
I have to laugh because she’s kind of right. When I was transferring, I didn’t think if Skidmore would be a good fit; I just had to get away from Hampshire. But sitting in the car that night, it was more evidence that transferring, for better or worse, had been the right decision.
-December 2004
