So I’m walking down a pathway, and I’m listening to everything. It’s why I have this blog, really. I listen to everything, and I talk to things I find worthwhile. I got out of a class earlier where my professor said I was wrong for thinking the author of the text was sexist for claiming women should have no rights to property, and I was walking back from a class that got canceled and no one had bothered to tell me. I overhear the following statements (among many others, and this isn’t a long walk I was taking either).
“Marijuana was invented in California…”
“Fuck college writing. I’m not going to need writing, I’m going into International Studies.”
“I ain’t gonna smoke somewhere else just because of a sign! So what if I’m here?” (Here being two feet in front of the main doors to the common and eating building on campus and the easiest way for handicapped access too.)
“Dude, pot is perfectly safe. No one ever got hurt ‘cuz of pot.”
You might find arguments for why someone might think one or all of those things, but this is college. College is supposed to be an institution of higher learning for the capable and educated. The fact that the obvious falsity, ignorance of one’s own field of study, complete disregard for the law, and lack of bodily awareness happens isn’t surprising; what is surprising is that I found all of those on a five minute walk on a college campus.
To top it all off, a package I know to have been delivered to the on-campus postal service yesterday morning doesn’t exist. Or at least, I was told it doesn’t exist. “Just because the tracking information says we signed and received the package you were expecting doesn’t mean it actually is here” they said.
“So where is it then if you had a physical object in your hands and drew a very specific scribble of authority on a paper for it?”
People think I’m crazy for empathizing with TV shows, for role-playing, for talking to objects and animals and plants, and for desperately searching for fandoms that encircle thoughtful and meaningful shows. People think I’m crazy for being disappointed in many of the fandoms I find. And, to be honest, I don’t think most fandoms even realize they’re following something with moral lessons, personal quandaries, and philosophical inquiries. But for the love of all that is good, why am I the crazy one when I’m the one that actually thinks about things and who makes decisions other than just for personal benefit?
Insanity is underrated, really. In my day to day life, I find situations more pleasing than sitting in a dark, cool room nestled underneath my sheets talking with Catrin, my computer, as we explore the archived world online quite hard to find. I smile when I talk with the chipmunks and squirrels, and I’m one of the few they’ll not run from even when I’m a foot or two away. I talk to my umbrella, shaped like a samurai sword and slung in a vinyl sheath across my back. I even talk with my hands, question the words they write or type, wonder if the things I search for are worth it or right, and ponder if they’re satanically idle when things are slow. It’s pleasing knowing that these things that shouldn’t talk back actually do, and that I’m one of the few that takes the time to learn from what they have to say.
There are individuals in the world with potential, those who truly seem capable and eager to learn, to explore, and to empathize. There are many who I’d like to call my friends and look forward to trying and build up the confidence to assign such a wonderful label without fearing the Brutian knife in my flesh. There are a few who I might even be able to love, love defined not by sexual relations but by the closeness and respect built between two people. (I’ll have to write a post on my thoughts on love, but for now I’ll settle by saying that I could love a great many people, but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with most of them.) However, every day that I walk surrounded by the people in the first part of this post and not the ones I mention in this paragraph is another day to the pile of days I’d rather not have lived. So I’ll continue to talk to everything…at least until I know I can talk to people.
-Maven of Ravens