Here are the official procedures for joking and mirth within my group of friends at Georgetown.
1. If a bad joke is told, that is, a joke that derives no laughter whatsoever, excepting laughter at how badly the joke failed, then any of the listeners must hold up one finger, indicating that the person telling the joke has received his or her first warning.
1a. Should a bad joke not receive a finger, but a gesture of the Saturday Night Fever Arm Wave, then the person who told the joke must dance like Ben Affleck in Chasing Amy, no matter how public the setting may be. He or she may additionally say "Let's see you do better, you fuckmook!"
2. If a person makes a second awful joke after his or her first warning, then that person then receives a signal of two fingers, indicating both the second bad joke and the subsequent second warning.
3. Should a person twice warned utter a third bad joke in succession, then a third finger is raised and that person is subject to one of the following punishments:
1) they must endure a forceful punch to the arm by one of the listeners, preferably James (note: should James receive a third finger, then Ian is allowed to punish him) or
2)if the person is female, or otherwise inclined against the punch, then their mouth must be duct taped shut for a period deemed acceptable by all who were subjected to their horrible humor.
3) If anyone else ever agrees to it, Tom will staple the joker's mouth shut, after which Tom will be committed to a mental institution due to his proclivities towards stapler-related mutilation.
4. Most importantly, a person may wipe their slate clean finger-wise if they tell a good joke anywhere along the process. Listeners may choose to show this exoneration through a gesture of "wiping clean."
5. Whenever a finger is given, usually as a second or third, the joke teller may challenge that they have told a good joke since their last finger. Judgment is made on the part of the listeners and is based on the Georgetown Honor Code. If it is agreed that they have cleaned their slate, the finger will be applied accordingly (ie as one finger in a new succession of bad humor).
So that's the process. We live by it, sadly enough, and it hasn't reduced the quantity of absolutely stupid jokes during conversation. I like how it sort of emulates the point system used by Kris Johnson.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Sunday, September 21, 2003
I survived the mighty hurricane Isabel. I must admit that, considering the danger and proximity, I was actually quite worried for some time. However, once it became clear that the effects of the storm would only be mildly strong here, I simply became entranced in making the most out of the two hurricane days off from school. Before I continue, I must say that it is a tragedy that human lives were lost in this natural disaster and I do not mean in any way to make light of an event that was so costly, but I also did my best to make the most of the opportunities provided by the hurricane.
That being said, the mood shift occurred at about 8 pm on Wednesday when a friend from Harbin informed me over AIM that classes were cancelled. I immediately shouted the good news to my hall and then proceeded to haul ass over to Harbin. Wednesday night was mainly comprised of singing around a guitar and then watching movies. The next morning, I made an executive decision and moved into Harbin temporarily. I packed a backpack with movies and, as an afterthought, things I’d actually need for sleeping. I also lugged my laptop over so that I could, in a show of true and flawless nerdiness, catch up on homework during my day off. My diligence, however, was greatly rewarded, as I ended up sitting with my friends in a group study hall in the lounge of Harbin 3, listening to the playlist on my laptop and generally enjoying not only intelligent, but amusing company. We watched Dogma, which was met with mixed reactions from my more religious friends, and laughs from guys like James. I keep getting this feeling like James and I are on the same page on a lot of issues, including religion, which I found out later that night in really big way.
After the movie, someone suggested one of those myriad “get to know each other” games that, despite different names and rules, become the same game once you dump the rules and just go around reading cards. Between that and the ensuing game of “I’ve Never...” I learned enough about my new crowd to know two things. First of all, they’re all very similar to me in beliefs and lifestyles, and secondly, they could never be a replacement for my A Kids, simply because it would be an injustice to both groups to consider them interchangeable.
Once we had lost a few people to sleep and work, it came to pass that a great religious conversation arose, one that would end only after FIVE hours of deep theological interchange. The four main participants were myself, James (the aforementioned), Celeste, who is Catholic, and Saad, who is Muslim, a title which is something of an understatement considering what I’ve learned about him since that conversation began. We went from the loss of organized religion in the current age to the idea of a basic moral ground that must first be obtained before discoursing on the truth of any given religion and on the difference between Muslim and Christian beliefs. The main topic of debate was how, based on a Christian outlook, James and I are going to hell, despite being moral people, because we don’t accept Christ as our savior and redeemer, while a morally corrupt person who pledges belief in Jesus has a place in God’s house. Muslim beliefs, however, place us in heaven under titles of morally correct nonbelievers. I’m not converting to a Muslim belief, let it be known, but I simply reaffirmed that my not believing in Christ as a redeemer of the world’s sins is not cause for my damnation, especially since I believe that Christ did come to this world in order to bring the knowledge of God to man and to teach the world how to better love one another, which is his final commandment to the apostles. One of the best points made was that of “the man on the mountain,” that is, how a moral hermit living in a cave who had never been exposed to religion would be damned to hell for his guiltless ignorance by Christians, but would be considered worthy of heaven by Muslims and by my standards. Just thought it was interesting.
During the last hour of the great conclave, as I prefer to think of it, Saad revealed that the reason for his extensive knowledge of Muslim teachings and history, and thus his ability to not defend, but share his faith, is a very important one. My new friend Saad is apparently a high ranked leader of the Young Muslims North America Organization, and studies every three months with none other than Cat Stevens. So, to make it simpler, or perhaps more incredible, I spent all night debating religion and morality with a man who may become the Muslim leader of our generation. It’s things such as that night that make me truly glad that I am here at Georgetown.
That being said, the mood shift occurred at about 8 pm on Wednesday when a friend from Harbin informed me over AIM that classes were cancelled. I immediately shouted the good news to my hall and then proceeded to haul ass over to Harbin. Wednesday night was mainly comprised of singing around a guitar and then watching movies. The next morning, I made an executive decision and moved into Harbin temporarily. I packed a backpack with movies and, as an afterthought, things I’d actually need for sleeping. I also lugged my laptop over so that I could, in a show of true and flawless nerdiness, catch up on homework during my day off. My diligence, however, was greatly rewarded, as I ended up sitting with my friends in a group study hall in the lounge of Harbin 3, listening to the playlist on my laptop and generally enjoying not only intelligent, but amusing company. We watched Dogma, which was met with mixed reactions from my more religious friends, and laughs from guys like James. I keep getting this feeling like James and I are on the same page on a lot of issues, including religion, which I found out later that night in really big way.
After the movie, someone suggested one of those myriad “get to know each other” games that, despite different names and rules, become the same game once you dump the rules and just go around reading cards. Between that and the ensuing game of “I’ve Never...” I learned enough about my new crowd to know two things. First of all, they’re all very similar to me in beliefs and lifestyles, and secondly, they could never be a replacement for my A Kids, simply because it would be an injustice to both groups to consider them interchangeable.
Once we had lost a few people to sleep and work, it came to pass that a great religious conversation arose, one that would end only after FIVE hours of deep theological interchange. The four main participants were myself, James (the aforementioned), Celeste, who is Catholic, and Saad, who is Muslim, a title which is something of an understatement considering what I’ve learned about him since that conversation began. We went from the loss of organized religion in the current age to the idea of a basic moral ground that must first be obtained before discoursing on the truth of any given religion and on the difference between Muslim and Christian beliefs. The main topic of debate was how, based on a Christian outlook, James and I are going to hell, despite being moral people, because we don’t accept Christ as our savior and redeemer, while a morally corrupt person who pledges belief in Jesus has a place in God’s house. Muslim beliefs, however, place us in heaven under titles of morally correct nonbelievers. I’m not converting to a Muslim belief, let it be known, but I simply reaffirmed that my not believing in Christ as a redeemer of the world’s sins is not cause for my damnation, especially since I believe that Christ did come to this world in order to bring the knowledge of God to man and to teach the world how to better love one another, which is his final commandment to the apostles. One of the best points made was that of “the man on the mountain,” that is, how a moral hermit living in a cave who had never been exposed to religion would be damned to hell for his guiltless ignorance by Christians, but would be considered worthy of heaven by Muslims and by my standards. Just thought it was interesting.
During the last hour of the great conclave, as I prefer to think of it, Saad revealed that the reason for his extensive knowledge of Muslim teachings and history, and thus his ability to not defend, but share his faith, is a very important one. My new friend Saad is apparently a high ranked leader of the Young Muslims North America Organization, and studies every three months with none other than Cat Stevens. So, to make it simpler, or perhaps more incredible, I spent all night debating religion and morality with a man who may become the Muslim leader of our generation. It’s things such as that night that make me truly glad that I am here at Georgetown.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
Normally I wouldn't post an online quiz, but come on...
Are You A Sex God?
Hark - the oracle speaks! A bolt of lightning falls from the sky! SHAZAAM! As the smoke clears, the hidden deity in you emerges and is revealed to be:
EROS, God of Love.
As a devotee of this long-neglected virtue, you are a committed romantic. You prefer to savor the joys of seduction before you step into the bedroom. This quality makes you incredibly attractive to women, who seem to melt in your presence. They sense your strong character and respect your ideals. They dream of stealing you away and making dreamy love to you all day long. Not to say you wouldn't be happy to oblige, but you want to make sure that there's some emotional or intellectual compatibility between you and your partner to carry the relationship along. By the time you are ready to show them your godly performance, they're hooked. You take sex seriously and show your lucky woman a passion that has only existed in her wildest dreams. You are probably an emotionally expressive and sensitive person whose pleasure comes from pleasing others. Your chivalrous ways have probably earned you a following of fans and a trail of satisfied mortals in your wake.
It's something to work for at least...
Are You A Sex God?
Hark - the oracle speaks! A bolt of lightning falls from the sky! SHAZAAM! As the smoke clears, the hidden deity in you emerges and is revealed to be:
EROS, God of Love.
As a devotee of this long-neglected virtue, you are a committed romantic. You prefer to savor the joys of seduction before you step into the bedroom. This quality makes you incredibly attractive to women, who seem to melt in your presence. They sense your strong character and respect your ideals. They dream of stealing you away and making dreamy love to you all day long. Not to say you wouldn't be happy to oblige, but you want to make sure that there's some emotional or intellectual compatibility between you and your partner to carry the relationship along. By the time you are ready to show them your godly performance, they're hooked. You take sex seriously and show your lucky woman a passion that has only existed in her wildest dreams. You are probably an emotionally expressive and sensitive person whose pleasure comes from pleasing others. Your chivalrous ways have probably earned you a following of fans and a trail of satisfied mortals in your wake.
It's something to work for at least...
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
What a difference three days makes. I think my current state could be best summed up by William Shakespeare:
“I am a man more sinned against than sinning” -King Lear
“When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
but in battalions” - Hamlet
The first quote is in regards to the fact than somehow, in less than a month after I arrived, I am already embroiled in drama so extreme that it seems almost like a nightmare to me. As some of my friends know, I had a particular incident with a young lady sleeping over in my room, “sleeping” actually being a literal term for the most part. Those friends who know might also be familiar with the penance I exacted upon myself the next day in the form of beating myself up mentally. I considered this necessary as I found it awful, by no fault of the particular girl, that I had been so weak as to become involved with someone I’d known for a few hours at the most.
Now, I feel no need to justify the actual events further. My feelings on the matter are known. However, when the girl’s friend comes to my door and says that she and my bedmate had heard that I said that I was angry that I didn’t “get any,” things took a turn for the spectacularly awful. That’s correct: I’ve been accused of being a womanizer who was disappointed that this girl had not given me all that my lecherous heart desired. Amazing that people could know me SO well after only a few weeks.
I immediately dropped my initiative of avoiding situations with this girl, the point of which was to prevent further failures of character, and called her up to explain that this terrible defamation of my character was untrue. I’m fairly sure looking back that I was very pissed off at whoever had began such a rumor. Not only was my character being called into question, but specifically that aspect of my character that I hold so dear, that is, the way I view and treat women. The girl who had originally clued me in told me that her “reliable source” was a guy I had met previously and who was friends with my group from the Harbin dorm. With half of my mind ready for confrontation and the other desiring only to explain the truth, I sought out this first link in the gossip chain. As I was sidetracked along the way, by the time I got to his room, the girl who had originally told me was there talking to him. Suddenly, the “wronged” girl came around the corner, leading to me once again asserting that I in no way had expected something of her in that regard. Unfortunately, she seemed to just roll her eyes and say, “It’s fine” in that way that told me that she didn’t believe me and was content to dismiss me as that asshole who used her. How marvelous.
When she had arrived, this guy had closed his door so we could talk in the hall. After we had finished talking, he came out and I told him, looking him dead in the eye, that what he heard was grossly mistaken. I’m not sure whether he took my word, but he wasn’t as apt to scoff as the girl herself had been. I ended up walking back to my dorm amazed that I had just been required to basically defend the fact that I am a decent guy.
I guess this is the downside of that chance to start over that college provides. Sure, there are no negative preconceived notions of you left over from high school and you start with a clean slate amongst new people, but what if your old slate wasn’t dirty? What if what was wiped away was a reputation as a decent, dependable person? We literally have to start over, or at least make sure we are living life the way we claim to be. I can’t greet each person with assertions of my worth as a person. I simply must show them, even when the qualities are things I take for granted about myself. I may have a whole board full of pictures of my life in high school, and to me, it symbolizes the person that became through those years. But I can’t carry the board with me, nor can I even begin to describe the full relevance of each person or event. It is something of a shame that I had to come about this realization in such a personally wounding way, but perhaps now I’ll remember that it takes more than a senior superlative to make a man, especially amongst people for whom the name has no meaning.
(Sorry if it's a bit confusing with no names, but I have enough personal quality to find it wrong to put names on such a volatile and personal situation)
“I am a man more sinned against than sinning” -King Lear
“When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
but in battalions” - Hamlet
The first quote is in regards to the fact than somehow, in less than a month after I arrived, I am already embroiled in drama so extreme that it seems almost like a nightmare to me. As some of my friends know, I had a particular incident with a young lady sleeping over in my room, “sleeping” actually being a literal term for the most part. Those friends who know might also be familiar with the penance I exacted upon myself the next day in the form of beating myself up mentally. I considered this necessary as I found it awful, by no fault of the particular girl, that I had been so weak as to become involved with someone I’d known for a few hours at the most.
Now, I feel no need to justify the actual events further. My feelings on the matter are known. However, when the girl’s friend comes to my door and says that she and my bedmate had heard that I said that I was angry that I didn’t “get any,” things took a turn for the spectacularly awful. That’s correct: I’ve been accused of being a womanizer who was disappointed that this girl had not given me all that my lecherous heart desired. Amazing that people could know me SO well after only a few weeks.
I immediately dropped my initiative of avoiding situations with this girl, the point of which was to prevent further failures of character, and called her up to explain that this terrible defamation of my character was untrue. I’m fairly sure looking back that I was very pissed off at whoever had began such a rumor. Not only was my character being called into question, but specifically that aspect of my character that I hold so dear, that is, the way I view and treat women. The girl who had originally clued me in told me that her “reliable source” was a guy I had met previously and who was friends with my group from the Harbin dorm. With half of my mind ready for confrontation and the other desiring only to explain the truth, I sought out this first link in the gossip chain. As I was sidetracked along the way, by the time I got to his room, the girl who had originally told me was there talking to him. Suddenly, the “wronged” girl came around the corner, leading to me once again asserting that I in no way had expected something of her in that regard. Unfortunately, she seemed to just roll her eyes and say, “It’s fine” in that way that told me that she didn’t believe me and was content to dismiss me as that asshole who used her. How marvelous.
When she had arrived, this guy had closed his door so we could talk in the hall. After we had finished talking, he came out and I told him, looking him dead in the eye, that what he heard was grossly mistaken. I’m not sure whether he took my word, but he wasn’t as apt to scoff as the girl herself had been. I ended up walking back to my dorm amazed that I had just been required to basically defend the fact that I am a decent guy.
I guess this is the downside of that chance to start over that college provides. Sure, there are no negative preconceived notions of you left over from high school and you start with a clean slate amongst new people, but what if your old slate wasn’t dirty? What if what was wiped away was a reputation as a decent, dependable person? We literally have to start over, or at least make sure we are living life the way we claim to be. I can’t greet each person with assertions of my worth as a person. I simply must show them, even when the qualities are things I take for granted about myself. I may have a whole board full of pictures of my life in high school, and to me, it symbolizes the person that became through those years. But I can’t carry the board with me, nor can I even begin to describe the full relevance of each person or event. It is something of a shame that I had to come about this realization in such a personally wounding way, but perhaps now I’ll remember that it takes more than a senior superlative to make a man, especially amongst people for whom the name has no meaning.
(Sorry if it's a bit confusing with no names, but I have enough personal quality to find it wrong to put names on such a volatile and personal situation)
Monday, September 15, 2003
So what do spinning parries, hilt blows, diving somersaults, a plethora of parries, a ton of thrusts, a thrilling disarm and a horrifying death have in common? Well, they are all a part of my fight choreography for my play, The Illusion. I had four hours of intense blocking today. I have to be “tripped” by my adversary so that I hit the floor hard enough to be believed. I must defend my honor and privilege in a mighty duel, only to fall with my love’s name upon my lips. Finally, I must return as another character to exact final revenge. It’s all so much fun to go through and my fellow actor and I are totally committed to making it a perfect...illusion, if you will. Hopefully some friends from home will come to see it along with what I hope to be a big turnout of my Georgetown friends and acquaintances.
Otherwise, things are good. I’m wearing myself down with crew and theater together. I got a cold from running to the memorials and back in the rain at practice Friday, so I decided to sleep in through the next practice on Saturday. I talked to my coach about the fact that my play will start causing conflicts, including the first race I would participate in. I would feel awful if I was responsible for the team and I couldn’t make it to practices or regattas. Coach, however, told me to stick with practice and let him worry about it, so I guess for now, I’ll just be subjecting myself to this crazy schedule full of things that are great in and of themselves, but draining altogether. I figure either my body and mind will reach the pinnacle of human accomplishment, or OR I’m heading for a terrible crash and burn. We shall see.
Otherwise, things are good. I’m wearing myself down with crew and theater together. I got a cold from running to the memorials and back in the rain at practice Friday, so I decided to sleep in through the next practice on Saturday. I talked to my coach about the fact that my play will start causing conflicts, including the first race I would participate in. I would feel awful if I was responsible for the team and I couldn’t make it to practices or regattas. Coach, however, told me to stick with practice and let him worry about it, so I guess for now, I’ll just be subjecting myself to this crazy schedule full of things that are great in and of themselves, but draining altogether. I figure either my body and mind will reach the pinnacle of human accomplishment, or OR I’m heading for a terrible crash and burn. We shall see.
Sunday, September 14, 2003
It's no Goo Goo Dolls, which apparently is the blog band of choice, but I found it poignant at the time."Change Your Mind"
Hey, Hey
Did you ever think
There might be another way
To just feel better,
Just feel better about today
Oh no-
If you never want to have
To turn and go away
You might feel better,
Might feel better if you stay
[Pre-chorus]
Yeah yeah
I bet you haven't heard
A word I've said
Yeah yeah
If you've had enough
Of all your tryin'
Just give up
The state of mind you're in:
[Chorus]
If you want to be somebody else,
If you're tired of fighting battles with yourself
If you want to be somebody else
Change your mind...
Hey hey-
Have you ever danced in the rain
Or thanked the sun
Just for shining- just for shining
Or the sea?
Oh no- take it all in
The world's a show
And yeah, you look much better,
Look much better when you glow
[Pre-chorus/chorus]
Hey hey-
what ya say
We both go and seize the day
'cause what's your hurry
what's your hurry anyway
[Pre-chorus/chorus]
Sister Hazel (who's coming here for Homecoming!!!!!!!!!!!)
Hey, Hey
Did you ever think
There might be another way
To just feel better,
Just feel better about today
Oh no-
If you never want to have
To turn and go away
You might feel better,
Might feel better if you stay
[Pre-chorus]
Yeah yeah
I bet you haven't heard
A word I've said
Yeah yeah
If you've had enough
Of all your tryin'
Just give up
The state of mind you're in:
[Chorus]
If you want to be somebody else,
If you're tired of fighting battles with yourself
If you want to be somebody else
Change your mind...
Hey hey-
Have you ever danced in the rain
Or thanked the sun
Just for shining- just for shining
Or the sea?
Oh no- take it all in
The world's a show
And yeah, you look much better,
Look much better when you glow
[Pre-chorus/chorus]
Hey hey-
what ya say
We both go and seize the day
'cause what's your hurry
what's your hurry anyway
[Pre-chorus/chorus]
Sister Hazel (who's coming here for Homecoming!!!!!!!!!!!)
Sunday, September 07, 2003
I finally made it. It took me a while, admittedly. In fact, there were times when my confidence failed me and I thought I may have made am irreversible mistake. Last night, however, everything changed. Things became clear and I found that magic that made me want to come here all those months ago, that special something that made me feel like I could be part of this place, and that it had so much to offer me in return.
Last night, after having a slightly solitary dinner at the dining hall, I called one of the people I’ve met, James. I placed the call with some trepidation concerning whether it would be viewed as a pathetic cry for something to do on a Saturday night. Now, this is foolish in hindsight. It wasn’t the first time we’d all hung out together. We’d actually all watched Princess Bride together the night before, and James and I did crew together, but that’s just how I am. It takes me a while to believe that someone actually likes hanging out will me. When James returned my call a few minutes later, he enthusiastically invited me to go to dinner with the group. Granted, I had just eaten, but the chance to hang out with some of the cool people I’d met sort of overrode my food logic. I met them on the patio at Harbin Patio, as all but two of our crowd live in Harbin, which lends itself to many jokes on my part about my being part of the New South Outreach Program.
We all herded towards the bus stop beyond the gates and waited patiently for our transportation to Dupont Circle for some chow. However, a few very enthusiastic conversations later, no bus had arrived and the restlessness overwhelmed the group. We decided to abandon the Dupont Circle plan and just find somewhere on M Street. Someone suggested Johnny Rocket’s and we all agreed that it would work for a quick dinner. I munched some onion rings and slurped a milkshake that Steak and Shake would have been ashamed to serve, but it was still interesting to hang out and reflect on the 9/11 footage playing on the TV above our heads, thanks to the tact of CNN.
Once we had finished, we made another abrupt decision to make a momentous march to the monuments. James and I led the group down to the river, as we had to run to the monuments for crew. Speaking of which, I find it easy to run when you pass Watergate, the Kennedy Center and the Lincoln Memorial before turning back. The river was beautiful at night and soon the back of the Lincoln Memorial appeared before us.
There are few man-made things on earth that I find truly inspiring, but the Lincoln Memorial never fails to fill me with emotions I can’t even begin to explain. I think it’s the eloquence that gets me. When I read the Gettysburg Address, immortalized in marble, I almost feel like kneeling before it; its power and meaning transcending the words, though they too are elegant and well-crafted. I came upon the line Mr. Friedman used as an illusion, and though I adore my allusions, that line isn’t nearly as striking as it is upon that monstrous wall. It nearly moved to me to tears, and I maintained relative silence as we walked down the stairs, simply relishing the inspiration.
The tears fell, however, at our next stop. Where the Lincoln Memorial uplifts me, the Vietnam Memorial sobers me. The silent sadness and rueful reverence of the atmosphere always catches me off guard. It still amazes me how one single panel of the wall has enough names to constitute a terrible tragedy and yet the wall goes on in both directions, challenging every person that comes along to question more than just politics. From determining with the others how the number of Georgetown freshmen was only a small piece of the wall to finding the name “William R. Fahey” and suddenly realizing that he was most likely a guy my age whose life was ended before it even got off the ground, it was all an awesomely gut-wrenching experience. Our group moved on eventually, meanwhile discussing the incredible implications that the memorial had suggested.
Once we had gotten lost in the dark pathways around the National Mall, we decided to head back into the city to hop the metro back home. On our way, we were surprised to find ourselves crossing Pennsylvania Avenue, which then led us to detour past the White House to spend a few moments contemplating just how far you’d get if you tried to hop the fence. It’s just what you think of standing there, after all that “home of one of the most powerful men in the free world” stuff.
One metro ride later, we found ourselves in Rosslyn, across the Key Bridge from home sweet home in Georgetown. Some of the group jumped on a metrobus to the University, but 5 of us decided just to make the walk back. We sang, joked and reflected on the night’s adventure, which was simple as the Washington Monument loomed tall in the distance, acting temporarily as a marker of how far we had trekked earlier in the evening. The walking group also got a few extra treats. Not only did we get to take a picture with the randomly parked Oscar Mayer Weinermobile, but we also ran up The Exorcist stairs, stepping over a bum on the way, who has some admitted gall for sleeping on stairs legendary for their steep fall. Finally, as we crossed campus, we decided to embrace tradition and waded in Dahlgren fountain, one of the rites of passage not endorsed by the administration.
So, in reference to my first paragraph, this entire night reintroduced me to everything that gave Georgetown a place in my heart from the moment I stepped on campus. Before these adventures, I had yet to feel like I was in DC, like I had truly made it, or like I had a somewhat concrete friend base. However, it was last night’s combination of new friends, great experiences and intense emotions, not the least of which being happiness, that made me finally feel at home here. What was at first a loose affiliation due to classes and club involvement is not a true bond with this place, and I’m so happy to be here.
Last night, after having a slightly solitary dinner at the dining hall, I called one of the people I’ve met, James. I placed the call with some trepidation concerning whether it would be viewed as a pathetic cry for something to do on a Saturday night. Now, this is foolish in hindsight. It wasn’t the first time we’d all hung out together. We’d actually all watched Princess Bride together the night before, and James and I did crew together, but that’s just how I am. It takes me a while to believe that someone actually likes hanging out will me. When James returned my call a few minutes later, he enthusiastically invited me to go to dinner with the group. Granted, I had just eaten, but the chance to hang out with some of the cool people I’d met sort of overrode my food logic. I met them on the patio at Harbin Patio, as all but two of our crowd live in Harbin, which lends itself to many jokes on my part about my being part of the New South Outreach Program.
We all herded towards the bus stop beyond the gates and waited patiently for our transportation to Dupont Circle for some chow. However, a few very enthusiastic conversations later, no bus had arrived and the restlessness overwhelmed the group. We decided to abandon the Dupont Circle plan and just find somewhere on M Street. Someone suggested Johnny Rocket’s and we all agreed that it would work for a quick dinner. I munched some onion rings and slurped a milkshake that Steak and Shake would have been ashamed to serve, but it was still interesting to hang out and reflect on the 9/11 footage playing on the TV above our heads, thanks to the tact of CNN.
Once we had finished, we made another abrupt decision to make a momentous march to the monuments. James and I led the group down to the river, as we had to run to the monuments for crew. Speaking of which, I find it easy to run when you pass Watergate, the Kennedy Center and the Lincoln Memorial before turning back. The river was beautiful at night and soon the back of the Lincoln Memorial appeared before us.
There are few man-made things on earth that I find truly inspiring, but the Lincoln Memorial never fails to fill me with emotions I can’t even begin to explain. I think it’s the eloquence that gets me. When I read the Gettysburg Address, immortalized in marble, I almost feel like kneeling before it; its power and meaning transcending the words, though they too are elegant and well-crafted. I came upon the line Mr. Friedman used as an illusion, and though I adore my allusions, that line isn’t nearly as striking as it is upon that monstrous wall. It nearly moved to me to tears, and I maintained relative silence as we walked down the stairs, simply relishing the inspiration.
The tears fell, however, at our next stop. Where the Lincoln Memorial uplifts me, the Vietnam Memorial sobers me. The silent sadness and rueful reverence of the atmosphere always catches me off guard. It still amazes me how one single panel of the wall has enough names to constitute a terrible tragedy and yet the wall goes on in both directions, challenging every person that comes along to question more than just politics. From determining with the others how the number of Georgetown freshmen was only a small piece of the wall to finding the name “William R. Fahey” and suddenly realizing that he was most likely a guy my age whose life was ended before it even got off the ground, it was all an awesomely gut-wrenching experience. Our group moved on eventually, meanwhile discussing the incredible implications that the memorial had suggested.
Once we had gotten lost in the dark pathways around the National Mall, we decided to head back into the city to hop the metro back home. On our way, we were surprised to find ourselves crossing Pennsylvania Avenue, which then led us to detour past the White House to spend a few moments contemplating just how far you’d get if you tried to hop the fence. It’s just what you think of standing there, after all that “home of one of the most powerful men in the free world” stuff.
One metro ride later, we found ourselves in Rosslyn, across the Key Bridge from home sweet home in Georgetown. Some of the group jumped on a metrobus to the University, but 5 of us decided just to make the walk back. We sang, joked and reflected on the night’s adventure, which was simple as the Washington Monument loomed tall in the distance, acting temporarily as a marker of how far we had trekked earlier in the evening. The walking group also got a few extra treats. Not only did we get to take a picture with the randomly parked Oscar Mayer Weinermobile, but we also ran up The Exorcist stairs, stepping over a bum on the way, who has some admitted gall for sleeping on stairs legendary for their steep fall. Finally, as we crossed campus, we decided to embrace tradition and waded in Dahlgren fountain, one of the rites of passage not endorsed by the administration.
So, in reference to my first paragraph, this entire night reintroduced me to everything that gave Georgetown a place in my heart from the moment I stepped on campus. Before these adventures, I had yet to feel like I was in DC, like I had truly made it, or like I had a somewhat concrete friend base. However, it was last night’s combination of new friends, great experiences and intense emotions, not the least of which being happiness, that made me finally feel at home here. What was at first a loose affiliation due to classes and club involvement is not a true bond with this place, and I’m so happy to be here.
Friday, September 05, 2003
It’s been a really cool day for me. I don’t know why, but it’s as if the powers that be thought, “Wow, we made Tuesday awful for Ian; let’s give the kid a break.” I had two easy classes in the morning. First was Sociology, which I still dislike due to its ambiguity, but today I just tended to my own affairs while the professor lectured straight from the reading I had done during breakfast. Then came Philosophy. I was slightly worried that I had missed something important Tuesday and that I would be lost in class. However, my teacher came in, put on The Matrix and left, so it wasn’t bad at all.
After sort of lounging around for the afternoon (and watching the commentary on The Boondock Saints for the first time), I went to crew. When I arrived, I found out heavyweights had to start by running. Now, any of my friends would say that I do a lot of things, some quite well, but running does not fall within the scope of Ian’s proficiency. However, I actually made a decent effort for the 2.5 miles we had to run, meaning I actually ran straight for the first mile and a half. This was huge for my personal perception of my ability. Anyway, upon returning to the boathouse, we went out on the barge and proceeded to row one handed to get a feel for the process. The coach is really great about working with us and says I have the power, but I need to harness it. Maybe I’m like the Neo of crew...then again, maybe not.
Tonight was Late Night at Leavey, a big ordeal that supposedly is a party, but turned out to be a big club fair. I got a lot of free things such as cups and frisbees, but the highlight of the experience was signing up for Georgetown Assassins. As awful a thing as that might sound, it is actually quite decent and incredibly cool.
The basic idea is that you have your picture taken with your number, which is 75 in my case. Then this picture is given to another participant along with your dorm. This person must then hunt you down and attack you with a water gun. If they succeed, they not only receive credit, but they are then given your target to hunt, so if you get your quarry, you keep going. It should be really fun, but dangerous as hell and crazy once people start resorting to actual tricks to get each other. I’m thinking of using my concession stand trick of hiding my water gun in a cup and calmly drinking from it, seemingly innocent. It’s very disarming, more so than I am normally...right.
After leaving Leavey, despite a slight urge to stay and sing along again, I hung out with some cool kids in my pseudo-group, a bunch of people I’ve gone out with several times. After joking around in Red Square, we went back to this girl Steph’s room to watch the South Park movie. Steph is a really cool and sweet girl, who isn’t afraid to laugh at somewhat dirty humor. There’s a plus already.
Finally, I decided to go home and call it a night. I passed my cousin’s dorm and found her outside with her friends. My cousin informed me that I’m somewhat popular and that the theater group was referring to me as “Hot New Ian.” This was bewildering to me, because I totally wasn’t getting those vibes at all, but hey, if it is true, that’s kind of cool.
And by the way, to my friends that are a fan of my Rafter's pick up line, I met a guy named Ian today, and he was from SCOTLAND! I don't think that justifies anything, but when he said it was such a common name in Scotland, I couldn't help but smile.
After sort of lounging around for the afternoon (and watching the commentary on The Boondock Saints for the first time), I went to crew. When I arrived, I found out heavyweights had to start by running. Now, any of my friends would say that I do a lot of things, some quite well, but running does not fall within the scope of Ian’s proficiency. However, I actually made a decent effort for the 2.5 miles we had to run, meaning I actually ran straight for the first mile and a half. This was huge for my personal perception of my ability. Anyway, upon returning to the boathouse, we went out on the barge and proceeded to row one handed to get a feel for the process. The coach is really great about working with us and says I have the power, but I need to harness it. Maybe I’m like the Neo of crew...then again, maybe not.
Tonight was Late Night at Leavey, a big ordeal that supposedly is a party, but turned out to be a big club fair. I got a lot of free things such as cups and frisbees, but the highlight of the experience was signing up for Georgetown Assassins. As awful a thing as that might sound, it is actually quite decent and incredibly cool.
The basic idea is that you have your picture taken with your number, which is 75 in my case. Then this picture is given to another participant along with your dorm. This person must then hunt you down and attack you with a water gun. If they succeed, they not only receive credit, but they are then given your target to hunt, so if you get your quarry, you keep going. It should be really fun, but dangerous as hell and crazy once people start resorting to actual tricks to get each other. I’m thinking of using my concession stand trick of hiding my water gun in a cup and calmly drinking from it, seemingly innocent. It’s very disarming, more so than I am normally...right.
After leaving Leavey, despite a slight urge to stay and sing along again, I hung out with some cool kids in my pseudo-group, a bunch of people I’ve gone out with several times. After joking around in Red Square, we went back to this girl Steph’s room to watch the South Park movie. Steph is a really cool and sweet girl, who isn’t afraid to laugh at somewhat dirty humor. There’s a plus already.
Finally, I decided to go home and call it a night. I passed my cousin’s dorm and found her outside with her friends. My cousin informed me that I’m somewhat popular and that the theater group was referring to me as “Hot New Ian.” This was bewildering to me, because I totally wasn’t getting those vibes at all, but hey, if it is true, that’s kind of cool.
And by the way, to my friends that are a fan of my Rafter's pick up line, I met a guy named Ian today, and he was from SCOTLAND! I don't think that justifies anything, but when he said it was such a common name in Scotland, I couldn't help but smile.
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Ah, college is definitely a different place. If it weren’t for the new experiences college provides, I wouldn’t be having as much fun as I’m having. At the same time, however, the distinguishable nature of college was the very cause of all of the events of yesterday, which is from this day forth to be known as one of the worst days, or at least mornings, of all time.
I woke up at about 8:20 in the morning, which came as a big surprise to me because I wanted to wake up at 6:20 for crew practice. I stumbled over to my alarm and then realized I had set it for 6:20 PM. While cursing my luck on that account, I realized I was having trouble walking. I looked down and found that the cut I had acquired on my heel during ultimate frisbee (due to my new shoes scraping my achilles') was seriously infected and that walking was impossible without excruciating pain. In this state, I made my way to breakfast and my first class, Sociology at 8:50, deciding along the way that I would go to the crew practice scheduled for 2 pm (although with a completely useless Achilles tendon, my ability to row would be sketchy at best), then hang with JJ, who was coming up to see me, then read through the play from 8 to 11.
At 10:05, my Soci. class ended and I made my way over to the student center grocery to pick up bandaids, Neosporin and Tylenol for the pain. I limped down to the dining hall to drown my sorrows in Pink Lemonade (and to consume the tylenol). I then got back to my room and decided to hang until 11, when I would leave for my 11:15 Philosophy class.
Well, it turns out I had a mental block, because my philosophy class was at 10:15, not 11:15. Therefore, at 11:00, I realized that I had missed the class during my first aid and lemonade adventures. Much cursing and exasperation ensued. So, at that point, I had an hour until my math class, which really was at 12:15, just enough time to feel like shit about how much can happen to a guy within 3 hours.
Luckily, crew was a really good time. We got out on the barge, which is two boats fastened together so the coach can walk between them and help out. Then JJ came, which provided me with a well-needed chill break. We basically just hung out for a few hours and then I rode with her on the GUTS bus over to the metro station. After saying our goodbyes, however, my bad day struck one final blow as the bus driver yelled at me for riding just to keep a friend company. Apparently I was taking up valuable seats, and I couldn’t use the excuse that I had paid good money, because Georgetown students ride free. I apologized sincerely to the irate transportation specialist, but the damage had been done. I just hope things aren’t awkward between us now, you know, if we see each other at a party or something.....what in God’s name am I talking about?
My day ended with a laid-back read through of our play. I’m really psyched that I get to play the rival. Not only do I get to overact as the pretentious rival, but I come back later in the play to be a suitor who is actually seriously hurt by how callous the woman is with his heart. Then, the absolute coolest thing about my part is the fact that I, Ian Fahey, get to live my dream and perform a sword fight! We were reading the scripts for the first time and I suddenly looked up and asked Tom, our director, “Hey Tom, what’s this part about ‘they proceed to duel?’” Tom smiled and said, “You get to fence with each other, what else?” I just about lost it. I’m so psyched about it! Of course, I do end up losing the duel. However, as the rival is a threefold part, I return as a different rival to a different girl against a different hero, and in that scene, I get the upper hand. It’s an incredible play, and if all that wasn’t enough, we also may be taking a trip to New York to perform the play on a real stage in the city! DAMN STRAIGHT!!!!!
I woke up at about 8:20 in the morning, which came as a big surprise to me because I wanted to wake up at 6:20 for crew practice. I stumbled over to my alarm and then realized I had set it for 6:20 PM. While cursing my luck on that account, I realized I was having trouble walking. I looked down and found that the cut I had acquired on my heel during ultimate frisbee (due to my new shoes scraping my achilles') was seriously infected and that walking was impossible without excruciating pain. In this state, I made my way to breakfast and my first class, Sociology at 8:50, deciding along the way that I would go to the crew practice scheduled for 2 pm (although with a completely useless Achilles tendon, my ability to row would be sketchy at best), then hang with JJ, who was coming up to see me, then read through the play from 8 to 11.
At 10:05, my Soci. class ended and I made my way over to the student center grocery to pick up bandaids, Neosporin and Tylenol for the pain. I limped down to the dining hall to drown my sorrows in Pink Lemonade (and to consume the tylenol). I then got back to my room and decided to hang until 11, when I would leave for my 11:15 Philosophy class.
Well, it turns out I had a mental block, because my philosophy class was at 10:15, not 11:15. Therefore, at 11:00, I realized that I had missed the class during my first aid and lemonade adventures. Much cursing and exasperation ensued. So, at that point, I had an hour until my math class, which really was at 12:15, just enough time to feel like shit about how much can happen to a guy within 3 hours.
Luckily, crew was a really good time. We got out on the barge, which is two boats fastened together so the coach can walk between them and help out. Then JJ came, which provided me with a well-needed chill break. We basically just hung out for a few hours and then I rode with her on the GUTS bus over to the metro station. After saying our goodbyes, however, my bad day struck one final blow as the bus driver yelled at me for riding just to keep a friend company. Apparently I was taking up valuable seats, and I couldn’t use the excuse that I had paid good money, because Georgetown students ride free. I apologized sincerely to the irate transportation specialist, but the damage had been done. I just hope things aren’t awkward between us now, you know, if we see each other at a party or something.....what in God’s name am I talking about?
My day ended with a laid-back read through of our play. I’m really psyched that I get to play the rival. Not only do I get to overact as the pretentious rival, but I come back later in the play to be a suitor who is actually seriously hurt by how callous the woman is with his heart. Then, the absolute coolest thing about my part is the fact that I, Ian Fahey, get to live my dream and perform a sword fight! We were reading the scripts for the first time and I suddenly looked up and asked Tom, our director, “Hey Tom, what’s this part about ‘they proceed to duel?’” Tom smiled and said, “You get to fence with each other, what else?” I just about lost it. I’m so psyched about it! Of course, I do end up losing the duel. However, as the rival is a threefold part, I return as a different rival to a different girl against a different hero, and in that scene, I get the upper hand. It’s an incredible play, and if all that wasn’t enough, we also may be taking a trip to New York to perform the play on a real stage in the city! DAMN STRAIGHT!!!!!