Entries for September, 2005
The Dreamer's Dream
Too often these days, it seems
We chase after those sensible dreams
Keeping an eye on the trends
Without a thought for the ends
Without a vision or plan for the means.
We turn to ourselves for peace
When we imagine no other release
We grope for the fleeting,
We hope for a meeting
With the illusion of purposed caprice.
The Age of Man grows yet broader
For we can prove wine is not water!
Young David was a ringer,
Apostle Paul, a '60s singer,
And the Son of God, of course, a Daughter.
But there is a flaw, the Fools advise,
In this life of ears, this faith of eyes
They say there's a love
A golden gift from above
A wonderful journey and a fabulous prize.
They warn of the fruitless yonder,
The wealth and treasure to squander,
Where moth and rust
Turns all to dust
And we are given four hundred to wander.
So snatch up this treasure, take up this load,
Wrestle with angels, blazon bugle and ode!
Take the rock you are given
And seek the stairway to heaven
And boldly claim the true dreamer's road.
-Jihwan Kim-
Written by jihwan at 02:31 PM.
So, there I was in the campus library, lounging in one of the very comfortable couches they had. I had a good hour before my next class, so I decided to take a quick nap to recharge my batteries. Just to allay your obvious confusion, I must assure you that I don't really run on batteries. It's a figurative phrase that I used to parallel sleep as a sort of recharging mechanism to restore my energy level for me to perfom at an acceptable pace in life.
[My horribly unintelligent Literature professor is one of those middle-aged, sunspotted, wild-haired, sagging, eccentric white women who are really into Native American culture, complete with the dream catchers and feather trinkets and Father Wolf spirituality. She was teaching us about something called Parallelism today. How elite.]
I strategically placed one foot on my books and the other around my bag strap as a primitive alarm system in case people tried to steal stuff from me while I was sleeping. Not that anyone would be stupid enough to try to steal something in a room full of people. I pulled on my headphones and drifted off to dreams of things I don't remember when I wake up.
In those half sleep stupors which tiptoe the bleary line between alertness and unconsciousness, I grew vaguely aware something pulling on my leg. I opened my eyes, stupidly glanced toward the source of the intrusion, and jerked awake.
A scrawny Hispanic kid, maybe 14 or 15 years old, was attempting to steal my bag.
In broad daylight. In a large room full of people.
It wasn't even like he was trying the surreptitious route, either. For all the resistance he met while trying to rob me blind, he could've simply unzipped my bag, grabbed my things, and pirouetted off while shrieking, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!" without anyone caring. Instead, he decided he wanted a bit of a challenge, so, in a bold move to awake the sleeping dragon, he kept yanking at the bag itself while juggling the zipper and the straps and nearly ripping my leg off with the shaking.
The actual attempt at stealing wasn't as incredible
as the fact that none of the people in the library did or said anything
to prevent it. I saw one guy peering over his book like he was
observing the lice-picking ritual of the African Chimpanzee, and the
girl sitting right across from me seemed too engrossed in her manicure
to notice the dirty kid rummaging through a sleeping guy's bag two feet
away.
Slightly shocked at the blatant thievery happening right before my [and about 30 other people's] eyes, I asked [way too politely, now that I think about it], "What are you doing?" If I weren't so taken aback, I would have said something cooler, like "Having fun, there, squirt?" or "I'm going to give you 3 seconds to run before I beat your head into your ass." But he had the element of surprise. He looked at me with the cliche'd deer-in-headlights eyes and squeaked, "Uh... I was.. looking for... some..thing." He then stood up, actually dusted his pants off, fastened his sleeve button, and then bolted.
The security guard on duty, who was walking around the room at that very moment, decided to play the hero and yelled out after him.
"HEY! NO RUNNING IN THE LIBRARY!"
Written by jihwan at 08:34 PM.
You know those situations in which you're so taken aback that you
say precisely the wrong thing at the wrong time? Like if you've
just been told that your friend had died in a horrible, bloody
bear-mauling, and the first thing that pops out of your mouth is, "Oh,
good. I don't have to give him back his Hilary Duff CD." Yeah,
those situations suck.
In one of my classes [I'd prefer to leave the class unnamed], we had this group project due soon. Our four-person group was gathered around a table discussing our presentation. Not to brag or anything, but since I'd had the most experience with writing papers and college-level projects, I'd unofficially taken the leadership role in the group. [Yeah, that's right - I rule.] Which was fine with me, as long as the other bastards did their share of the work and didn't blame me if their parts of the project sucked ass and we got a horrible grade.
The two girls in the group went to the school library to rough up some background information and to do some research on our topic. That left me and the other guy to start outlining ideas for the paper. Now, he was one of those guys who looked like he'd never been really popular in high school, one of those guys who were geeky but didn't really get good grades anyway. The kind of guy who wears dirty white Converse shoes, jeans that seem too loose on him, and a faded yellow polo shirt complimented by a mess of dark, unkempt hair. The greasy guy who always has a throbbing zit on his chin that he rubs around his oily face like it's a black pearl or something.
He slid his chair next to mine and we began to discuss
the topics. I caught a whiff of really bad B.O. and tactfully
slid my chair back and away from him. He scooted his chair right
next to me again. I figured he was lonely and wanted a friend or
something, but seriously, he smelled pretty bad, like soggy, reheated
onion rings and warm ranch sauce. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I shifted my body in my chair so that I
was holding the piece of notebook paper between myself and him. Big mistake.
This new change in position meant that we were now face to face. He kept looking at me like he wanted to say something. This kid was really weird, but I couldn't qutie put my finger on it. When I stopped talking to write an idea down, he seized the opportunity and tried to begin a conversation.
So, where are you from?
Do you like it here?
What other classes are you taking?
All right, whatever. If he wants to ask me questions, I can answer them. No biggie. Just... scoot away from me a little so I don't pass out from holding my breath for like 3 hours. Please.
Do you have a girlfriend?
No, currently, I'm single.
I
figured that would make him feel better about himself, because he
really didnt' seem like the kind of person girls would be fawning
over. But then he did something really, really weird. He
kind of grabbed the arm of my jacket and said in this really creepy
voice,
I.. like your jacket.
Ooookay. Heat level
rising. This shirt collar is too tight around my neck right now,
and my feet are starting to sweat. Can someone please turn up the
air? Better yet, can someone punch me in the face to keep me from
experiencing what I fear I will experience very, very soon?
So... you doing anything this weekend? Want to catch a movie or something?
All right. That's it. I began looking for an exit. The professor was across the room talking to some students, and there was no one close enough to us to make an subject-change converstation viable. Crap. When turned to look at him again, I almost threw up. His face was about 3 inches from mine, and my God, the smell was horrible. I felt something rub against my leg in a very disturbing manner, and I frantically prayed that it was a South American Reticulated Diamond Python about to kill me, instead of his smelly-ass foot trying to get into my pant leg.
Now, at this moment, I could have said or done so many things to get myself out of this situation. I
have to use the restroom. Sorry, I have to help my parents with
some errands. I have to wash my hair like 93 times. I'm
moving to Ethiopia for missionary work. I don't date freaky, nasty-smelling men. But
like a true, loyal friend, when I needed him the most, my brain
suddenly decided to kick me in the nuts run off like a friggin pansy. I needed to say
something, anything. Fast. I was sweating like some really
fat guy's ass on a hot day in the Amazon. The rank odor of
sickening body odor was about to make me vomit in this guy's
face. But thank God I'm quick on my feet. Under all this
strain and uncomfortable waiting and awkward staring, I said the first
thing that popped into my head. And boy, it was a doozy.
Uhhh... sorry. I'm going out with my girlfriend this weekend.
Crap.
I thought you said you didn't have a girlfriend?
Craaaap.
Now
here's where it gets exciting. Fun-in-your-pants exciting.
Boy-am-I-glad-I'm-not-him exciting.
Wow-he's-so-witty-let's-hug-him exciting.
Oh.. yeah. About that. I, uh, actually do have a girlfriend. Umm... three of her.
...crap.
He knew I was lying. I knew I was lying. Hell, the python slowly crawling up my thigh probably knew I was lying. By this time, my shirt was soaked from sweat, but I didn't want to take off my jacket in fear that I might trigger some sort of crazy, geeky, homosexual madness that would result very badly for me. He was about to say something [probably about my strange three girlfriends], but I didn't want to hear it. I began to make some excuse as to why I had to leave right then.
Sorry, but.. I have.. to.... uhh.. drive.. soon.
I knocked my chair over in my attempt to get the hell away from this guy, and everyone looked over at me. Yeah, look at me now. Thanks for not looking over a minute ago and saving me from this situation. Man, that's severely MESSED UP. I ended up hanging around the professor for the next hour of class, asking him every single question I could think of so that I wouldn't have to go back to my table. The guy kept looking at me. I was afraid. When it was time to go, I bolted.
I have to see him again this week.
God, help me.
Written by jihwan at 10:10 PM.