Toking Near the Third Floor Smoke Detector

From 4PM yesterday to 4AM this morning was a very, very crazy time for me. Sometime I'll write it all, hopefully, but for right now I have to go to the bathroom so I'll just talk a bit about 1AM - 4AM.

I got back into my dorm room sometime shortly after 1AM, but I can't remember exactly when. I was really, really wet because I'd been running around all night. My blue jacket is probably still wet, my socks were soaking, even my jeans were wet on like 70% of their surface area. I wanted to take them off because they were uncomfortable but I wasn't the only one in the hall so I couldn't do that very well. I went and I took a nice warm shower - but not too long 'cuz I was kind of tired - came back, got ready for bed and went to sleep. I think I might have listened to that song on my keyboard again, but I transposed it so it's in F# Lydian... I like F# Lydian but I think it sounds better in its original key, so I've put it back.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I fell asleep sometime between 1:25AM and 1:45AM. No problem.

Then, later... I woke up. I didn't know why exactly. Then I heard a sound, and I remember thinking along the lines of: "Hrm... well, that's a funny sound. That's also a really loud sound. I don't think I like you very much, you funny loud sou-OH MY GOD OH MY GOD FIRE ALARM GET THE HELL OUT OF BED."

So that's exactly what I did when I recognized what it was. I didn't have a lot of time to think, assuming of course that it was a real fire and I was actually in danger, so I just did what I had been told to do in a fire alarm situation like this. I suppose I should mention that I sleep in my underwear, which is like, fine, it's more than the swimsuits guys wear in Europe, but I wouldn't want to be outside in front of my entire dorm in my underwear at 3AM. So, like I said, did what I was told to do - grab something to keep you warm for the night and get the hell out of the building as fast as you possibly can. I figured, what's the nearest warm thing to me I can possibly get? My comforter. So I'm in my underwear, grab my comforter, wrap it quickly around my body, bolt out the door and start hopping down the stairway towards the exit on the first floor.

As I was hopping down the stairs in my comforter, I realized that Danny was still in the room. It looked like he might not even have recognized it was a fire alarm by the time I left. I felt really bad about it and was like, God, I should have told Danny to wake up. But there was no way I was going back in for anything.

So hopping hopping down the stairs in my white feather comforter wearing only my underwear, and I get to the first floor, go through the door. As I do, I see Eric Dobson walk out of his room in his red, velvet(?) bathroom robe. I just kept running, got out the door, and stood and looked. No smoke. Probably false alarm. What can you do.

So, I should say, when I grabbed my comforter, I was pretty certain that everyone else ran the hell out of their room, they would probably grab their blankets and run, too. I was very, very wrong. I was the ONLY person with my blanket out their. Everyone else was dressed. Some people were clearly still very awake.

At some point during this ordeal, I looked at my watch. 3AM. We were out there until 3:25AM.

While I was out there, I was talking to Janine (the Minority Peer Counselor on the first floor) and Lauren (the girl who lives with Trish, across the hall and one door down). Janine said she was considering just going back in and sleeping... I don't know how, but we came upon the topic of what to take out with you when you went. Janine said she would take her computer, and I thought... what's the first thing I would take?

I realized it was my blanket. That I've had pretty much since birth. More on that later. After that, I said, I'd take my little box of memories - full of all the cards and letters and other little things I've gotten since shortly before I came here or while I was here. Janine thought that was kind of crazy. She mentioned she would take her camera, which I thought was a good idea, but I have three copies of all my pictures, so I'm currently good for now.

I realized, though, there are a lot of things in my dorm room that I would really, really hate to lose. My box of memories. I don't want to go through everything that's in there right now, but oh, how I would hate to lose that. My blanket. My roller hockey equipment. My flash drives, keys, wallet, money, peppermint patties. My camera. My posters on the wall. My pictures of all my friends. My novelty t-shirts I've had for how long now? My computer. My external hard drive. All of my CDs - not the ones of myself, just the ones I listen to. All my schoolwork. My calculator and its programs. My Rubik's Cube. The mallets mom got me for my birthday one year. My Carbondale foam-mesh hat and aviators.

Thankfully it wasn't a real fire...

Peace out!

Membership Drive

I finally started listening to NPR today in the Bee Ache Lounge (B&H lobby). It was a membership drive. I wanted to diiiieeee. But now they're doing the news so it's okay!

Peace out.

Aunt Nancy

When I was really young - I think before the age of 8 or so - my undisputed favorite relative in the world was Aunt Nancy. I found out later that her really name was actually Anne, but I never really knew her as anything other than Aunt Nancy. She was my mom's sister, a couple years older I think, who lived in Scranton. She had two kids, Leroy and Gabrielle, he in a band and she a model. I could never really understand exactly what was going on with their living situation - they lived with Aunt Nancy and not whichever uncle (I think his name is also Leroy?) was their father in a house in a fair part of Scranton, but I think they rented out the top floor of the house. I don't think they were ever too pleased with the renters, whoever they were. They had a lot of cats, including one named Barney that ONLY liked Gabrielle and hissed fiercely at anyone else, and another one that hung itself by its collar on a tree one day and Leroy found it. One of the rooms had a bunch of instruments in it for Leroy and his band; they also had a Wild West pinball machine of some sort in their basement. I remember thinking they had some stairs in their house, but thinking back, I can't remember where they went. I remember a living room connected to the band room, the kitchen, and a bedroom, which I think was Gabrielle's, all on the first floor. Later, Leroy put a pull-up bar in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. That was when he owned the house, I think.

I don't remember a whole ton about Aunt Nancy herself, but I remember liking her a whole lot, all the time. I can't remember a time when I didn't like her. She always laughed at my jokes - even though I was just a stupid little kid - and I remember she actually made me feel like I was funny. I remember one time she was on the phone with my mom, and she asked to talk to me so I could tell her a joke, and I said, "Did you hear the one about the three deer?" She said, "No." And I said, "Deer, deer, deer!" And she laughed a lot. I mean, I thought that was a funny joke and that's why I told her, but not so many other people seemed to find it funny.

I remember I showed off to her once - in a family party of some sort at our old house at 4 Federal Farm Drive - that I could hop on one leg. I came up to her in our dining room and she asked me to show her something new, so I hopped on one leg and hopped right out of the room.

I think it was at that same party that I told her my real name was Vega. Vega was a video character in the Street Fighter II game on Sega Genesis that wore a mask and long metallic claws who I thought was incredibly awesome. She went along with it.

I remember when we were a little older and we were staying in Avalon, she got a trailer and a spot in a nearby park for the summer. We thought that was pretty much the coolest thing ever. We would go and swim in the fresh water (?) lake in the park, with a plastic dock of some sort and sandy beaches, while her and my mom talked. I can't remember much about the trailer itself. I remember one time, though, we went to a vending machine and I got a tiny piece of gold jewelry. It wasn't real gold, of course. Plastic. I don't know much else about it, but I think it had a chain of some sort attached to it. I wonder where it went.

I can't remember the last time I saw Aunt Nancy. I'm pretty sure it was at her trailer near the beach.

Sometime before the end of 2nd grade - and I really can't tell you much more about it than that - Aunt Nancy got sick. Very sick. She was up in Scranton and we were back at home - I can remember I was in the 4 Federal Farm Drive house, so that's how I know it was 2nd grade or earlier. We didn't really know what was wrong, definitely not as kids who were in like 8th grade or lower, but I don't think any of the adults really knew what was wrong either. I remember it was a pretty confusing time for me. I can't even remember exactly how long it went on. I remember thinking it was a long time. Though I was little then, so anything seemed long.

Sometime the summer before she got sick, my mom and Aunt Nancy got in a fight. I never learned what it was about, but I remember picking up that it was pretty serious. I'm not sure my mom and Nancy ever really made up before she got sick, but I do know that my mom went to see her once at her trailer after the fight and said that Nancy was smiling and dancing and happy to see her, so I'm pretty sure they were okay with each other.

Anyway, like I said, Nancy was sick. We didn't know what was wrong and I don't think anyone else did. At some point during this whole ordeal, my mom went up to see Nancy in the hospital. She told me later - I think she even told me when I was young - that when she was there, Aunt Nancy said - sickly, softly - "Oh... it must be pretty serious if they brought you here...?"

My mom came home eventually. I can't remember when. I can't remember what I knew when she came home versus what I knew when she left. I know that I heard stories of Aunt Nancy being on some sort of breathing apparatus, and something about her being very sedated, and something about pain but I'm not really sure what, and I think something about appendicitis but I'm not really sure, and I think something about smoking but I'm not really sure about that either.

I got a phone call from my dad sometime that school year. Or maybe it wasn't a phone call, and he told me in real life. I know that somehow I knew before Jessica, so maybe she had gone to school, I can't really remember. In any case, my dad told me that Aunt Nancy died. I didn't really have any reaction. I'm pretty sure my response was actually, "Oh, okay." Looking back, I feel horrible and I wonder what the hell was wrong with me. I was stupid and I'm sorry.

Later that day, I was in the kitchen with Jessica. We used to hang out sometimes when we were both home from school, Dad was at work, and Mom was out somewhere getting Ryan or something. I remember we were talking about something, then stopped. To end the silence, I said, word for word, flatly, passingly, "Oh, by the way, Aunt Nancy died." Again, I was stupid and I'm sorry. I can't remember how Jessica responded when I told her. I wouldn't have understood even if I saw it, I guess. I don't think I was looking. She tells me now that she reacted extremely strongly, but I can't remember that.

She had a funeral and a viewing in Scranton sometime after that. I remember thinking that I would have had to have gone all the way up to Scranton, all the way back, missed school, and saw some family that I didn't think was very much fun, so I didn't want to go and my dad said that was fine. I was in like 1st or 2nd grade. Again, I was stupid, and I'm sorry, and I understand if you hate me for not going. I wish I had gone.

Peace out.

Locks

I'm pretty sure that the locks to Alumnae Hall were changed overnight. I could get in there one or two days ago, but when I went today - at first I was talking on the phone to Dad about my bike - I could NOT get the keys to go in. I figured it was just because I had low dexterity with my one hand, and maybe I was actually just trying the same key over and over again... but even when I hung up I couldn't get it to work. It would NOT go in.

So I tried the other side door, then the other side door, and I heard someone talking and thought it might be a security officer who might know about lock changes. It turned out it was a caterer on the phone with her son, but she actually hung up on him to call security and ask. They weren't really a help - I'll have to talk to the music department at some point. I suppose I could just ask at orchestra tonight...? In either case, I would be pretty upset if I couldn't practice in Alumnae Hall anymore.

Also, my bike was stolen. I headed out to class today around 10:20AM or so, walked to Smitty B where I keep my bike, and didn't see it there. I thought I might be crazy, and that it wasn't actually stolen, so I probably just left it somewhere else. The most likely locations were Faunce House [mail room] and The Ratty, so I walked to those places on my way to my 10:30AM class [Applied Math 33]. It wasn't in any of the bike racks that I saw. For some reason I was still convinced that it wasn't stolen, though.

So after my class, I went back to Smitty B to check if my bike was still there, or for one other thing... to see if my lock was still there. When I got there, I started to make out what I thought... yes. I saw my lock laying on the ground, sawed essentially in half. My bike was definitely stolen. I called campus security and filed a report with a police officer. Later, Bekah told me she had an article about bike theft in the Brown Daily Herald [campus paper] today that I should read. My dad told me it was just one of those things that happens and I'll just have to get a new one.

Is it weird that I was like completely apathetic about both of these things when they happened...?

Peace out.

Elevator

Have you ever thought about what you were passing by in elevators? When you step in, wait, press a button, go down, and step out... what were you missing on all those floors? A kid sitting in his room waxing philosophic about elevators and listening to recordings of himself playing piano; a group of kids on the 3rd floor gathering together and freaking out about their physics problem set due tomorrow; a girl with benign cancer losing a friend over the phone because they simply refuse to believe that she actually has cancer and she can't stand the accusation of dishonesty; two people unsure of how they feel about each other sitting awkwardly together with some sort of academic pretenses to settle the awkwardness; a group of water polo players trying to teach themselves the Soulja Boy dance as they watch the video on YouTube over and over again and get drunk; a brilliant pair of roommates sitting by each other, one whistling, one listening to classical music nearly endlessly; someone dreaming about home; someone dreaming about college; someone who can't fall asleep; someone watching The Daily Show and eating a bowl of cereal like they used to do at home; someone sketching in the shower for their crazy visual arts teacher; a scattering of kids throughout a number of rooms rooting for their baseball teams; two strangers telling each other about the worst weekends they can remember; two kids having sex in the dark in their strange and new something-like-home; someone writing a love letter and someone writing a poem and someone writing a song and someone writing the score they swear will change your life.... then the elevator stops. And did you notice it?

Peace out.

Points

I never really liked fighting with teachers over points on tests or projects or anything. It always kind of felt like a hyper-public and therefore acceptable form of cheating to me.

Today, we got our midterms back in Math 18 with Sergei Treil. I did a little bit better than I thought I did, but there was one question - I think question #4 - where I thought I deserved some points back. I'll try to explain...

Basically, the question was about a particle in motion. It gave you acceleration, and then you had to find the velocity by integrating the acceleration function, and then find the position by integrating the velocity function. Each time you integrate, you have to make sure that your new equation lines up with the initial conditions. In this case, the velocity at Time = 0 was -(1/2)i. When you integrated the acceleration function, that condition was already satisfied - you didn't need to do any work to get it. So I just left it how it was. Once you got that, you had to integrate to get the position function, with the intial condition that the position at Time = 0 was (0, .25). Once again, this was exactly the answer you got when you integrated - I didn't need to do any work to correct for this initial condition; it was already done for me automatically.

So I got the position function and went from there, solved the problem and got the answer right. When I got the test back, though, the grader had taken off four points. I couldn't figure out exactly why, but it looked like it might be something to do with intial conditions.

I feel like I need to say something about this so I don't seem like a hypocrite. I wasn't fighting for points just to fight him or to get him to change my grade. I only said anything because I knew that I understood the material and the question and that I - in my head - did the things he had wanted us to do on paper. I felt like I truly deserved those points, and that's the only reason I fought for them. There was another point I could have probably fought for and gotten back if I really wanted, but he gave me another point somewhere on the test that I didn't deserve, so it would be unfair to fight for that one. But this one I actually, really deserved, and that's the only reason I brought it up to him.

I kind of felt bad about it though. Deep down, I knew that I deserved those points, and in the end I think he agreed to give them to me, but I felt bad because I got the impression that he didn't understand that, and it was more just to get me to lay off of him than because I really understood it. I'd prefer that it was the second way, but ... I don't know. I don't know if it's better to get what is right in a wrong way, or to have something be wrong but at least not go about fixing it the wrong way.

Peace out.

- - -

I don't like it here. I'm really not happy here. There isn't anything here that I'm excited for and there are very few things that I care about or would miss if I left.

Peace.

Tableslipping

I realized yesterday when I was talking to Gina that I don't think I ever explained "tableslipping" to anyone who wasn't at Brown. I feel like I should do that.

So whenever you go to lunch or dinner at either the Ratty or the V-Dub, and you sit at a table, you're probably going to find a whole load of pieces of paper on your table. They're all pretty much exactly one-fourth of a regular sheet of white paper. They're called "tableslips" and any Brown-recognized group can use them to advertise just about whatever they want. The Math Department uses tableslips to advertise special lectures that professors are giving just for fun; a capella groups use them to advertise their performances that night; some groups use them just to raise awareness about something happening on campus such as illegal hiring practices; some frats use them to advertise parties; etc.

I think tableslips are one of the few things I actually like about Brown. It's kind of nice to know that every time you sit down to lunch or dinner, you're pretty much going to have opportunities forced down your throat unless you keep your eyes closed the entire time. Actually, I think I'm often more excited about tableslips that I am about any other part of lunch or dinner.

Oh, right, as for the rules of tableslipping: They must be 1/4th of an 8.5" x 11" piece of white paper and lie flat on the table, printed in black ink on white paper. You can only put tableslips on the tables at certain times right before meals, and they are cleared inbetween meals by the dining staff. The times to put them down are: 7 - 7.5 AM, 10.5 - 11AM, 3.5 - 4PM [Ratty], and 4 - 4.5PM [V-Dub]. You can't put them down during special dining events. All tableslips must have a Brown University recognized student group name on the tableslip, and they cannot contain advertisements or coupons for commercial establishments.

Other than that... you can do pretty much whatever the hell you want, and groups often do.

Peace out.

Cold

It's become pretty cold here pretty quickly. Last week, there were days when I would ride around campus on my bike and the weight and heat of my computer and my books against my back would make me sweat just a tiny bit.

It's pretty clear that that won't be happening anymore. It's cold enough now that the huge air vent in the bathroom isn't a comfort, but an annoyance. It's cold enough now to not only sleep under your sheet, but under your feather comforter and covers, too. It's cold enough for northerners to wear hats and jackets and southerners to fear stepping outside.

Perhaps the last Waterfire that I will ever see is this Wednesday. There's one more on October 26th, but I'll be home that weekend (!). There are more in the spring, but I'll be in the drumline or maybe somewhere else crazy just about every weekend in the spring. It will probably be very cold, and I don't know if I can find anyone to go with me.

Peace out.

Rosalind, the Prodigy, in Black, with a Tissue

When I came to Brown, one of the things I wanted to do was join the orchestra. I was really really excited about it because I thought it would be just like concert band in high school, except with kids who were probably more devoted and more skilled - they are older, after all.

During some of the first days that I was here, I went to find the Orwig Music Building, which is quite a hike away from the rest of the life on campus. It's on, I think, Hope St. and Young Orchard St., which is not really a fun place to go because it's very removed. I remember, the first times I went, I didn't take my bike and that made it take even longer. The first few times I went, it was also closed, and I was very upset.

Eventually, perhaps the first day of class, I made it to the music building, walked in, and asked to talk to the director of the orchestra. The secretary told me his name was Paul and to check his office upstairs. So I went the spiral stairs in the Orwig Music Building - which looks like a very old, very nice house - and looked a Paul Someone or P. Someone. I didn't find any, but while I was up there I just happened to knock on a random door - even though it was dark behind the door - to see if I could talk to someone upstairs and see if they could help me.

I walked in and asked, "Hey, do you know where the conductor of the orchestra is?" And he said, "That would be me." He seemed really nice and really outgoing, and I said something to the effect of oh, you're Paul? And he said, No, I'm actually Eric Culver, I'm the guest conductor. Paul, it turns out, has been on vacation for the past few months and would be out most of this semester too, so Eric is taking his place.

I asked him if there was room for percussionists in the orchestra, and he said that there was, and I should just go put my name on the audition sheet. Auditions! I was very excited, except I had nothing to audition on... oh well. I remember I put my name on the audition sheet, missed my audition, then tried again, missed it again, and then finally got it on a Sunday. I just kind of played some scales and hoped for the best. I suppose it was actually good enough to get me in.

At one point I talked to Eric Culver about himself a little bit because it seemed like there was a lot to learn from him. I think he has a doctorate in Conducting... at first I couldn't believe there was such a program/accredation system, so I asked him to explain it to me. And he talked to me about all the different parts of conducting - first of all, the actual act of doing it, but also how to pick songs, work with your musicians, find the best musicians, train them, how to organize the mechanics of the orchestra, and of course mountains of music theory. I walked away agreeing that it was definitely a legitimate degree program, and pretty confident in his abilities.

That was at the social/introductory meeting for the orchestra... there wasn't a whole lot I remember about that day, other than it was kind of awkward and I didn't really like it a whole lot. I could barely even rem.... actually, I don't think there is a single name I remember from that meeting.

So anyway, I was in the percussion section. There are, I think, five people in the percussion section. The first one that I knew was Viday, whose name I'm still not sure I'm spelling correctly. He's Indian, and a friend of Abhay, who is my Meiklejohn [peer] Advisor. He's hoping to go to school for percussion performance, so I'm pretty sure he's amazing, but I've never really seen him rock out. Apparently last year he performed a timpani concerto which was pretty incredible, but again, I missed that. In either case, he's really nice and extremely modest about his abilities. Pretty much everyone in the band seems to adore him as soon as they meet him. The very first day he offered me a timpani part on Zampa, which I played once and then decided I didn't really like, so I think he took over. He also memorized exactly where I should be playing in the Rachmaninoff piece before I had ever even looked at my music.

The next one that I came to know was Nat Seleen, the president of the orchestra. He's a pretty big white male with black hair, senior year, who smiles all the time. He is always smiling. It's incredible. He's really very nice, and very agreeable, and I think people generally like him and think he does a good job of managing the orchestra. It's very interesting, though, to see him be so smiling and agreeable all the time and then talk to him in private and hear him - still smiling and being agreeable - say a word like "fuck" or "shit."

The next guy I knew Ojus - not sure I'm spelling correctly - an Indian guy from Pennsylvania who knows Liz DiCocco (my chem TA from PGSS). He said he always wanted to do drum corps, but he either didn't think he was good enough, or started to think he didn't have enough time. I thought it was really sad, and even sadder that he never knew about All-Age Corps like the Buccaneers... I suppose they'll still be around when he's older though, so he can probably do one when he'd like to if he's still into it.

The last guy - other than me - is Aaron, a junior in a topology class that's killing him, with a large afro-like haircut, glasses, and he's very nice. He's also in Wind Symphony and percussion ensemble and introduced me to their meetings, but I didn't really dig what they were doing so I backed out...

Anyway, as far as orchestra goes, my part sucked. I didn't like it. I had 867 measures of rest in a 25 minute-long song. I'm going to quit this Tuesday. I actually tried to quit the second week, but they asked me to play in this Rachmaninoff song [Rhapsodie, Variations on a Theme of Paganini], and I couldn't say no to Eric.

I think the most interesting part of my orchestra experience was Rosalind Rhee, then the concerts...

So for Rachmaninoff, the piece is really a 25-minute piano solo with an orchestra playing somewhere in the back. The soloist we have is Rosalind Rhee. I can't explain to you how good she is. I really can't even compare her to someone like myself or Nicki or Susan Lin because she's so good that it's not even worth the comparison. It's... she's simply not on the same level. I don't even care if I like what she's playing, I just like listening to her play. I did end up liking Rachmaninoff, though.

So yeah... the other day as we were getting ready for the concert, I saw Rosalind walk by. She always wears black - I don't think I've ever seen her wearing anything but black - and she's Asian and has black hair, so all my memories and pictures of her in my mind are very, very dark. Like I said, she walked past me before the concert as I was sitting in the percussion cabinet txting or talking to someone, and I don't know why, but I was kind of in awe. I think it's because she was wearing a trenchcoat - black, as always - combined with her piano awesomness, of course. It was like something out of The Matrix. She looks kind of like the girl in The Grudge, only scared instead of scary. I can still see in her face how she must have looked when she was little.

Her mom was also there with her, which I thought was adorable. Rosalind must be 21 years old by now, a senior, ready to go into the world on her own, and her mother - dressed totally in white - still came to see both of her shows. She sat with her before the show for a long time in a somewhat private room. I guess I just thought that was interesting. I wonder if many other parents would have come.

The other thing that I've noticed about Rosalind is that when she plays, she doesn't look at the music. Ever. This is a 25 minute song - I know, that's not that impressive - but this is so difficult that I could... wow, I don't think I could ever memorize it. I do not think I am capable. But she did. The first night, she showed up and didn't even look at the music except to give measure numbers to other people.

She also always has a tissue with her when she plays. I don't know what it's for. It could be for sweat or tears, I could never tell. After her first concert, I'm pretty sure she was crying. After her second, I think she was sweating. Maybe it's both. I don't know. I don't think I'll ever see her again.

I think she also made the only mistake I've ever seen her make at the end of her piece during the second concert. Thankfully we all recovered.

The one thing that I think I will miss about orchestra - other than Rosalind, the prodigy, in black, with a tissue - is the orchestra warming up. I know that sounds really stupid, but it's really something to be experienced. When I was cleaning up from the second/last concert, I stood in the back of the room before going behind doors so I could listen to them warm up. They tune on an A instead of a Bb.

It's hard to describe, but when the leader gives the signal and the high instruments come in and then it goes down further and further and the basses sweep in and it just fills the room like you've never heard before, god... you'd swear a tidal wave was rising up somewhere just outside the building and you're convinced that if only the orchestra would play loud enough and hard enough those strings could move time backwards if they wanted to.

Peace out.