| (no subject) |
[Aug. 16th, 2006|05:29 pm] |
I got lots of new music and some Podcasts to entertain me as I drive to Asheville.
Hi guys. I was gone for a long time. But once I get back to school, I'll be your friend again. |
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| Clothing. |
[May. 6th, 2006|12:45 am] |
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In my room, there's a pile of clothes on my bed. Anyone is welcome to go in there and take what he or she pleases. Everything that is not taken will go to Goodwill...or I might try to sell it. Regardless, feel free to go in there and steal from me. Only take that which is on the bed, though, please. |
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| This is sad... |
[Apr. 11th, 2006|08:03 pm] |
Sydney, Melissa, and I all spent the evening trying to figure out who the two asian, two hispanic, and two multi-racial students were that went to our school last year.
We didn't bother trying to name the six-hundred forty-nine white kids.
But we're not sure if we got it right. Any suggestions? |
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| Um, so. |
[Apr. 10th, 2006|11:01 pm] |
My friend Kyle is going to be here on Wednesday morning. Until Sunday morning.
Who wants to go to Veggie Buffet? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 23rd, 2006|01:13 pm] |
Tonight, should I go to the F-Word Film Festival or should I go to the dance at Warren Wilson?
If I decide to stay here and go to the films, will anyone go with me? |
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| Humanities Cultural Event, what? |
[Mar. 14th, 2006|12:16 am] |
In high school, I never attended a typical party. The thought of going to a place with unfamiliar peers, loud music, and underage consumption never appealed to me quite like it did to my contemporaries. Watching such teen movies as 10 Things I Hate About You and Sixteen Candles only deepened my disdain for such parties. Upon arriving at UNCA, the idea of going to any sort of typical college party did not magically change for me. I still possessed complete distaste for the incomprehensibly popular cultural pastime. I imagined such an event to be unpleasant at best, full of strangers escaping their lives by partaking in illegal activities and painfully [to me] gyrating to poorly constructed hip-hip music with bass thumping well over its intended intensity.
In high school, my parents assumed me to be unnatural, not wanting to attend parties with the “normal kids.” They had enjoyed parties when they were in high school, and I was expected to, as well. I adopted Kat’s quote from 10 Things I Hate About You, calling a party “just a lame excuse for all the idiots at our school to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves from the pathetic emptiness of their meaningless, consumer-driven lives.” Though this clearly hyperbolic statement grossly oversimplifies parties and their supposed function, it certainly describes what I had expected from any such party.
When I visited my friend in St. Louis over Spring Break, he insisted that we go to a party at the Co-Op – a school-sponsored housing cooperative. Knowing Washington University’s alcohol policy as a self-proclaimed “wet campus,” I reluctantly agreed, assured that I would not be ticketed or fined for even merely attending such an event. Clearly, a college party can only be considered a low cultural event. This particular party was exclusive – my friends were among the few freshmen invited. As is custom for most parties, the night began with “pre-gaming,” or alcohol consumption before ever arriving. We gathered at a friend’s house. Obviously, since I am a responsible individual and not yet 21, I did not engage in such activities. To do so would be illegal. Other illicit substances appeared during this time, but quickly vanished, by some accord.
After the pre-gaming had commenced, we left for the party – equipped with a designated driver, of course. The party was as expected. A keg sat in the middle of a room in the basement. Students milled around, talking and visiting with one another. Music blared in a dark room filled with dancing girls. I settled into a room with couches crowded around a table. This particular experience surprised me. I actually enjoyed myself, talking to a girl who immediately introduced herself to me. I felt surprisingly at ease and comfortable. Finally, I moved into the room with music and began to dance – to music that did not, in fact, offend my ears. I caught sight of the faculty advisor, bobbing his head whilst holding a beer. A girl walked around sans pants, a couple kissed passionately on the dance floor, and another girl stumbled around, leaning on her friends for balance. Other than these three choice incidents, the atmosphere remained relatively laid-back and escaped the raucous stereotype I had imagined. I enjoyed myself to the extent that, when my friend asked if I wanted to go to a party the following night, I vehemently replied, “Yes, of course!” |
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| Okay, so... |
[Mar. 13th, 2006|10:43 pm] |
This is my new favorite possession. Kyle and I went to Bloomington on Wednesday night. We both had a lovely time. We met up with Andrea, Steve, and Elizabeth. The five of us had dinner at Roots, where this guy kept singing really annoying songs about paprika and shit. After that, we took them back to their respective dorms, and went on a hunt for Abby and Scott's house. Eventually, after a half hour of Kyle driving around aimlessly, we made it. We ate vegan chocolate birthday cake and played with Avery, before shoving off to the dance.
Which was great fun, of course. Afterward, we went out to Max's Place. David was out of control, and funny as hell. Kynthia made me laugh so hard I began crying. And Cindy kept referring to Kyle as Nathan.
When we got to her house, I went to put my things in the guest room. She and Kyle were talking, and she said, "So do you know Albert?"
Kyle, bullshitting, replied, "Yes yes, I do. Lebanese, right?"
She nodded approvingly, "Right," and handed him this Letter.
Kyle read the beginning, and finally told her that he was, in fact, Kyle, not Nathan.
Apparently she found this in her yard. I think it's precious.
( Here it is... ) |
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| Urgh. |
[Mar. 13th, 2006|11:02 am] |
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So it sucks when you wake up and take a shower. And then you get out of the shower and you realize that the mildew smell you smelled the night before was actually your towel. But you have nothing else, so you have to dry yourself off with the mildew-y towel. And then there it is...you spend the rest of the day soaked with mildew scent. |
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| So I've decided... |
[Mar. 8th, 2006|12:47 am] |
This spring, we're going to bring back pogs. All those who would like to participate in the Pog Revival should bring their old pogs to school.
And if you don't have your pogs anymore...don't fret! I think we might have to make our own. We could have parties and such, devoted to the making of pogs. Pog-Minting (©Amy Z.) Parties! I have two slammers...all we need are bunches and bunches of thin cardboard discs. Preferably with beautiful pictures on them...
Holy shit, this is exciting. |
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| I DID IT!!! |
[Mar. 4th, 2006|12:23 pm] |
I talked to my dad. Everything is cool. He's not excited, but he's not upset, either. He wasn't expecting it, and was sort of shocked by that, but not by the fact that I'm gay.
Me: "There's something I think we need to talk about."
Dad: "What?"
Me: "Well, I'm not sure what to say or how to say it..."
Dad: "Yeah."
Me: "I'm a lesbian."
Dad: "...Okay. Well, that doesn't change anything about the way I feel about you. It doesn't matter."
So yeah. I did it. We talked a little bit. I feel relieved, but it didn't magically make us completely open with each other. There's still a barrier there, and he's not like my mom in that she had a lot of questions. He just...doesn't really care that much. It's not something he wants me to talk about extensively. And I guess I can respect that. At least I'm not lying...
Dad: "I respect you, but you have to respect me, too." |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 2nd, 2006|02:09 pm] |
On Friday, Jana picks me up at takes me to the airport around 8:30. My plane leaves at 10:15. I have a layover in Cincinnati from 11:30 until 3:00. I eat lunch and plug in my laptop to watch movies in the airport. Maybe explore. At 4:00, I get to Indianapolis. My mom picks me up and we talk more in-depth about my plans to come out to my dad. I get home, enjoy the night with my parents. Maybe see Kyle around 10:30 or so...
On Saturday, I wake up earlier than I normally would. Dad drives me to St. Louis. I tell him I'm gay, and we process in some manner throughout the three hour drive. I get to St. Louis and bother the Wash U kids until Tuesday morning, distracting them from studying for midterms and generally being in the way.
But it works. The timing is good, because I'll actually be talking to my dad. For three hours. And then he'll get to process by himself for three hours on the drive home. And then process with my mom for three days. And then I'm back in the picture...So once he's more accustomed to the idea, he'll have the opportunity to talk to me some more.
But yeah...those are my plans, essentially.
And Wednesday I'm going to Bloomington...so Sydney and Steve, I hope to get some dinner with you, if at all possible. |
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| Oh, and also... |
[Mar. 2nd, 2006|01:28 am] |
I think I'm going to come out to my dad this week. Words of encouragement or just general suggestions as to WHAT THE FUCK I SHOULD SAY are welcome in this space. Yes, this general viscinity.
Mmkay. Thanks. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 2nd, 2006|01:24 am] |
Someday I'm going to post an intended private entry as public. And then I'll be livid with myself. Not only for letting the general public know about my personal life without asking, but also for exposing other people's personal information.
This is one of my biggest fears. That and having someone pull down my skirt whilst standing in a public area.
Thanks, Aly, for that. I highly appreciate being exposed in my hotass biker shorts. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 24th, 2006|11:19 am] |
I GOT MY PERIOD!!!!
I'm not pregnant, y'all! |
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casan's journal
