My Blog for Dr. Sexon's Classical Foundations of Literature.
Long time coming...
So, I've been WAY behind on reading the blogs so instead of writing I was catching up on the readings there. I have a LOT to talk about now... A stack of sticky notes about 1/4 an inch think! We'll see how this turns out though.
Sticky 1) Rocks.
I had a moment of absolute panic no more than an hour and a half after class on friday. I was gimping my little broken self over to my car and sort of scuffing my feet because, well, it's less painful if you do this odd little hop when your knee is not working. Well, I get to my truck and squeeze myself into the Japanese sized cab which makes my knee very irritated, and head off. I'm thinking about class as I'm driving and right around 19th and College street I begin wondering what I did with the rocks that Ben got us (I was going to keep for the weekend so they wouldn't be lonely). I at this point remember kicking my feet on the way to my truck and wonder if I have bounced them out of my pocket and lost them amongst the other rocks on the Main Mall.
I have a freaking conniption. I pull over and yank the E-Brake nearly out of the dash and flip my pack upside down to rummage through the contents before the truck has even slid to a stop. I've broken out into a cold sweat and I'm thinking about how terrible a keeper I was to have lost these things that I am learning to love, as though a surrogate parent would leave their adopted child at the grocery store IMMEDIATELY after gaining custody. What an ass am I?After the cursory dig there was nothing but stuffing the bag half on my head to make certain to see anything that could have remained inside I found them tucked, brilliantly snug, into a mesh pocket.
Lets just say that they were pampered little rocks for the rest of the weekend. :)
Sticky 2) The death of a pet.
Yeah, on this one I would really like to dive into the deep waters and talk about a good friend of mine (who would have loved this class) instead of a pet...
I knew this guy. Great guy. The most brilliantly religious person I had ever known. I'm agnostic personally, (I have died before and that gave me a perspective that led me away from organized religion but that's another story.) but this man had me by the heart every time theology came into conversation. His name was Chris. He was my roommate, my confidant, my friend, a soldier in the National Guard, a lover, a fighter, a philosopher, a shoulder to cry on, a pillar of strength, an empath, and a brilliant inventor. (Chris liked to design new board games, dice games and dungeons and dragons style games) Chris was the type of guy who, no matter how late it was if you had any kind of problem at all he would be the first on scene to help. Cat's in a tree? Chris is there. Relationship problems? Chris is there with a pizza cut exactly down the middle to split, 2 pints of sorbet, 2 spoons and a comical movie.
Chris had seemed a little down for about a month with girlfriend troubles. Barely noticeable unless you really paid close enough attention to know that Chris never had a bad day. His philosophy/theology was unshakeable and thusly he was nearly always happy no matter the circumstance. He had moods but they were few and far between and very quick to pass. Finally I begged him to talk to me pulling the "I owe you one so you'd better let me cash in the chip" card. He told me that his girlfriend was giving him hell, her parents were at his throat and basically that his relationship was hell. I tried to get him to spend the night and watch a movie, (I had moved into a new apartment at this time) but he had plans to see other worried friends that night. The next day I woke up to a phone call saying that he had killed himself. I was shocked, It's difficult to explain exactly the emotion but it was like living inside the percussion wave caused by a high powered rifle. I was blown away. I sat. I stood. I paced. I went back to bed. I smoked 3 packs of cigarettes. I got drunk. I got sober. I prayed to any entity that I thought could help him. I begged for it to not be true. I planned revenge against anyone else who could have been involved. I was a wreck. But only when there was no one around to witness. I, to this day, have no idea when Chris was born or how old he was, around 26 I think, but he died on April third and I would still not be surprised to see him walk around a corner with a trench coat on, smiling like an idiot with his coke-bottle glasses saying Happy belated April Fools Day...