Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Retro: Calming Tom

This is a special edition of the Retro series because it isn't that old (meaning it's pretty good). Last year, my friend Tom (who I affectionately call Whiskers) came to me saying that he wanted to go to sleep but he wasn't tired. I symphasized, said, "sucks," and looked at him blankly. He then told me my part of solving this conundrum. Tom was soothed by hearing the sound of people typing. He knew I was a writer and guessed that I could type pretty quickly--and for a while--so I took the task. What follows is what I typed up, verbatim, for Tom. Notice the lack of direction and errors. I figure it's something that was written for someone who needed to be bored, so I'll put it up for people who only read this because they are bored. It's a boring cycle.

Tom is a really good guy. He calls me starfish, and I actually enjoy it a lot. Mona has just left the room, because she needs to find a nother person to which she has to have probably some improper relations with. I really don’t know why Tom enjoys this so, maybe his mom would type away when he was younger and was going to sleep? I have no real idea, but I’m his friend, so I humor him and will do it anyway. The light is on, so Tebo [my frosh year roommate] can’t sleep and will bitch about it in a little bit, but I wonder if he’ll ever get up and turn it off? I don’t think he will. Sucks, cause I will have to have it on anyway to take out my contacts in a few minutes. You win some, you lose some, I guess. Anyway, I don’t really know what to talk about anymore. Maybe I should mention that I really wanna get wasted, but I can’t cause if I’m on meds [I was sick, was on antibiotics] I’ll be like a 12 year old girl at a frat party and possibly puking after all is said and done…after my 3 beers or so, if I can get that lucky. This is college, dammit, and I’m far too sober, especially after being sober for nearly the entire break. One of these days I’m sure my friends will actually step upand go and ddrive myself around like I have been doing for the last, oh I dunno, since I got my license. I mean shit, I was driving around 5 people with about 3 gs the day after I got my license at 1 AM, immediately breaking 3 laws at once (well, the weed one was a bit more severe than the past 12 and 5 people thing). Strange how I keep putting my hand near the fire and not getting burned. I think by this point I’m way past due, and karma is gonna come and bite me square in the ass, and probably take off a nice chunk of my left cheek. Hopefully Tom will read this, in fact, I’ll print this out and show him. It’ll probably be really trippy to a certain point, cause it’s him reading about me taking about how he’s gonna read it.

In fact, I just tripped myself out. Whoa. I’d stop, but he would get kinda upset, and I don’t want to let down someone who calls me starfish.

Classes are a strange thing, especially when Charlie said that no one really forces you to go to class, which is true. I assume we all go because we want to be enlightenend or becoming smarter or something. Oh, Tebo just turned off the light and closed the door. Haha, I’m gonna turn that bitch on in like 5 minutes. The light always wins in the end. Bwahaha!

Back on topic.

So what really keeps us getting up in the morning, freezing our balls off, and going to class? There’s no one here to make us go, no parental figure yelling at us from the kitchen to wake up every 5 minutes so you could haul to school; that person is either 5 to 4000 miles away. Is it the fear of failure? I’m sure a person wouldn’t like to be known as the “guy that dropped out.” There are a few of them back home, including a friend who isn’t allowed back his grades are so bad, and it isn’t like they are looked up to, well, except for stupid high school freshman who enjoy the stories of their old Football glory moments. I guess, and hope in my case at least, that’s it not about letting down mommy or daddy who write the checks and pay BU to not heat our rooms but fund some sort of NASA experiment down the road, but more about a personal desire to succeed.

Ew, this is boring shit.

So I was fuckin’ this bitch right, and she was sooooo fuckin’ bangin’ and shit, and I just sorta wrapped around cause I was hitting her from the back, and I was all over her clit and then….

Ok I shouldn’t lie, either.

So this one time this chick that was a friend of a friend was hanging out with me and, um, the friend that connected us. We exchanged numbers, screen names, and became rather friendly. This largely breasted female’s name was "Marsha", and sort of had a fancy for me. She’d talk to me all the time, and with my natural wit, charm, and of course purdy looks, I wooed her. We went to see Bad Boys 2, and we held hands or some dumb shit, and I could have easily made out with her in the car afterwards, but eh, didn’t wanna do it. So it goes. [Click "Marsha" for the full story]

It started out like any Saturday night when dealing with college students: where do we go to get liquored up and a tad silly? For Alex, Zack, Zack, Charlie and myself, we knew that answer thanks to a friend from home of Charlie’s, Loren, who attends Berklee and has an apartment across from the Best Buy/AMC Fenway 13 commercial complex.

There were quite a few obstacles in the face of us on that night, with a lack of alcohol from the usual spot and a Noreaster being some of our worries. It was supposed to snow up to 2 feet, but when you looked on the faces of the boys that night, you wouldn’t see fear, no, but resolution; determined to get hammered at Loren’s apartment.

The trip up was made with minimal effort, with a T ride to BU central and a trek through some dustings of snow, setting the foundations for later snow to pile and be troublesome. All was fine until the clan came to a seemingly endless field of snow, with the expanse of white between them and their destination…and their alcohol. Waiting no time, they charged over the terrain as if they were suddenly taken over by the spirt of the movie Braveheart, or its American counterpart, the Patriot. Nothing could stand in between them and destiny.

Drinks were had and shared, laughs were long and loud, stories were warm and jolly, until Loren went into the bathroom for about an hour. The concerned gaggle of guys decided at 12:30 it was time to depart, for they might have overstayed their welcome as their host spewed. After getting their coats, hats, and gloves, they seemed ready and eager to take on whatever was out there. The truth was, they were not prepared at all for what lay before them.

As soon as they went outside the apartment building and realized they could no longer see the steps which carried them up to the building in the first place, this was an entirely different ballgame. This is what made boys into men, and made mere mortals into legends. The boys looked at each other, and without uttering a word, knew that the choice was clear and had to be made, so they ran back through the vast white field which they already conquered, but that was 4 hours and a foot of snow earlier. This was an entirely different beast which they would have to make surrender to their every whim.

With the task at hand, they banded together in mind and spirit to overcome their personal hardships within themselves and in the tundra that lay beneath their tennis-shoed feet. Yes, even while not properly equipped for the mission at hand, and overcoming innumerable odds, the group had made a mockery of mother nature, a move that would soon throw lives into danger.

As they walked onto a T in the road, a caravan was in the middle of the road having a tough time trying to go about traversing the road. A taxi driver had parked and tried to help, but his strength alone was not enough. Eagerly, the men decided to help the van, and did so, but the poor driving of the man in control led the van to folly. They showed no pity, nor remorse, and decided their job was done. On their way back to the Claflin dorm complex, they saw the taxi, with the driver who helped the van, start to fishtail. Charlie yelled out, “leave no man behind!” and with that, the job was not finished. Not by a long shot.
All of them decided to hop on and help out. From the left side, all pushed, but to their dismay the car’s back end skewed right. After running around and pushing from the right, it only turned the opposite way again. Resolute and determined, they hopped onto the left side and pushed yet again, refusing to let the snow win. The taxi began to right itself and continued on down the road. Across the street a group of people cheered, and everyone, including the group across from the men, ran down St. Mary’s, victory seemingly in their grasp, ranting and raving and throwing their fists up triumphantly. As we have learned, mother nature will not take a loss so easily.

She blew a mighty gust of wind up the hilly street, so strong that it prevented even a hawk from seeing more than a foot in front of himself. The group decided to hide within the walls of a building’s alcove. They shared the same destination of BU West, and the decision was made to simply not go the trek alone, but together, as a team. When the wind started to calm, the newly formed group made a run for it, and reached Commonwealth Avenue. There was no victory this time, for a long haul was still up ahead.

Curbs were hit, snow was blown in faces, footing was lost and bottoms were dampened. Through it all, the group remained strong, always focused on the goal, the destination, one step at a time. When all was said and done, when all the steps were left in the snow, only to be erased come dawn, and everyone was back in their respective dorm rooms, things seemingly had not changed. There will be no parties, no plaques, no statues for these men. Nay, their legend will only be told by the few that were there to see it, experience it, and understand the severity of their actions. And that is the way it should be.

Tom loved it, by the way. Something original soon.

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