Don’t Try To Tell Me That It’s Over, I Can’t Hear A Word, I Can’t Hear A Line

As I write this, I’m drinking a Molson [label: Wild & Woolly], watching old episodes of Friends on DVD with one of my roommates, Michelle, and waiting for some Alto-Cinco. After we eat and shower and our roommates get back from their family dinner, we’ll head out to the bars and meet up with all of our friends.

Only now, it’s different. Now, I’m a college graduate.

The reality of the situation hasn’t hit me yet. I’m still operating as a college student. I have a summer off to work some small ass job or an unpaid internship. I’ll come back in the fall to new classes and new professors. There’ll be more concerts, bar outings, meetings and papers for me to cheer and jeer. I’ll have another year to be around my friends, eating in Kimmel Food Court, watching the Discovery Channel and being kids.

But that’s false. I don’t have anymore of that. Right now I’m trying to put into words or find some analogy to convey how it feels to see everyone I’ve spent the past several years with all the sudden just leave. Leave. Sunday, at 11:30 in the morning, was the last time that every person that I’ve met within the past four years of my life would ever be together again. Ever.

After commencement, graduates milled around the Dome turf, taking pictures with family, friends and professors in stereotypical I’ve graduated, so let’s pose in the same fashion with every single family member like I’m a bronzed statued god. I walked between the different yard lines, giving my congratulations to friends and my introductions to their families. After every conversation, I gave a hug and said Okay, I’ll see you later! like I was going to see them in chapter, class or at a party within the next few nights.

Many of them left for home shortly after graduation.

I’ve still another week left in Syracuse, where I plan to sit and do nothing. I’ve never been at school with nothing to do before, so I’m looking forward to how the next week will play out. But even as I write this, I’m disappointed in myself. In my selfish attempt to avoid the inevitable farewell [either consciously or not], I presented myself as someone who didn’t care about the end.

I know I’ll continue to speak with the important ones. And I know that those whom I consider to be the important ones will always be my close friends. Always there for me and able to listen to me. But while writing this, the reality of the situation has hit me harder than any other epiphany has ever hit me before.

Being surrounded by all my best friends? Having them all in a 7 block radius and available for lunch at the drop of a hat? Not ever being in absence of their physical presence?

Losing the comfort that the last four years has offered, I feel naked. Slowly, I feel my very existence is being gradually tugged in a million different directions. A piece of me is leaving every day, and in it’s replacement is a huge emptiness.

I miss my friends. And I want them back.

I want to hug them. Kiss them. Laugh with them and cry with them. I want to tell them all face to face how much they’ve meant to me and how much I look up to every one of them. I want to thank them for all the good times and I want to apologize for all the bad times. I want to have them in an arm’s reach, if only to say that they are within that arm’s reach.

Friendship is the most important aspect of my life. It’s the cornerstone of my foundation. Through it, I’m able to do anything. If my friends believe in me and have enough faith in me to, then I would sprout wings and fly. But in their absence, I feel grounded.

I know we’ll still speak, And I know that we’ll still see each other and relive the good times. But right now, I don’t want the to be’s and the gonna happen’s. Fuck that.

I want the ignorance of the destined and the bliss of the moment.

It’s going to be a long time until I become used to this. This mass exodus of friends. This extraction of self. Eventually, I’m sure I’ll be more than fine. Visits and phone calls and emails will remedy all of my symptoms. But right now…right now, the missing doesn’t stop.

So as I finish my last Molson [label: Friend of Animals] I want to let the Internet know how much I miss those classes, concerts, bar outings, meetings and papers. I want the Internet to know that I’d change not one moment, good or bad, for anything else offered. And I want you, friends, to know that I loved each moment I spent with you. Thank you, everyone, for being part of the best four years of my life. Thank you.

All My Love & Gratitude,
John , Syracuse University, Class of 2006.

It’s Like A Game Of Risk…Next Up? Argentina!

I’m sure you all do the same thing as I do and every once and a while [read: all the time] check your stats. One of the things that I enjoy most about my stat counter is the ability to see where people link from to get to my site.

Now, I get a lot of random sites because of the Next Blog button up at the top of the screen. So every so often, I’ll get visitors from weird sites, like Pakistani hobby blogs or live journals of 12 year old depressed girls dressed in black Hello Kitty apparel. Other times, I’ll get the usual stuff, like google searches for Come To Find Out blog, or johnsthing.

One time, though, someone googled my entire name and clicked on just about every site that showed up with my name in it. My Upcoming.org account. Past posts. Tons of links. Someone’s kinda wicked creepy down in small town Pennsylvania, I shit you not.

Today though, was a much more eclectic set of links. And the crazy thing about the whole list of these, by the way, is that I can’t find a link to my site ANYWHERE. So, let’s have share time.

Marillion Online~Nothing special really. They talk about marbles, a lot though.

Musée du Quai Branly~I used to speak French. Then again, I used to have dreams about beating the New Kids On The Block in soccer games. Neither happens anymore.

Dialogue Gay~Oh this is nice. The last thing I need is a bunch of gay French men getting to my site via a porn page.

…

Or maybe it’s the first thing I need. Let’s wait this one out.

Elibra~I think this means the site is up for grabs. Either which way, the French really have some sort of obsession with me. I’m not complaining, but shouldn’t they be looking up to someone else? Maybe someone who doesn’t spend their time saying butt fuck in sign language?

Jeux France~Again with the francais. Bonjour, je m’appelle John et je suis confus. Pourquoi votre pays m’aime-t-il? [THAT was from memory, folks!]

Musée du Quai Branly [part deux]~I’m in a museum in France, apparently. That’s all I can think of.

xcxxedu~The only thing I can gather from this is that my site has a high traffic rate amongst young Asian children.

Skyblog de therobinette~Move over, Jerry Lewis. Here comes John.

Just as some added proof, take a look at this picture from my stat counter page. Therein lies all the weird ass sites that are linking to me. Proof is in the pudding, buddy.

The only thing I can gather from this field study, if you so choose to call it that, is that I should begin marketing my writings towards the gay French and adolescent Asian crowd.

I guess you all should expect a change in my style soon.

Until then…sayonara, you sexy French beasts.

I HAVE A DEGREE!!!…hopefully…

Okay. Listen to this, internet.

I had two papers due yesterday. I finished them. I was embarassed to have my name on those papers, but I finished them, nonetheless. So I saved them and prepared go party. UNFORNTUNATELY I saved over the first paper I wrote. So I needed to WRITE IT ALL OVER AGAIN.

And it was about RHETORICAL CRITISM in the FANTASTY THEME ANALYSIS. What does that mean? Hell if I know.

[In all seriously, I do...but how much better does it sound that I wrote a paper on shit I don't know?]

So I re-did the paper, and finished in time to go out. Now? I’m drunk. I’m not going to lie to you, Internet. This post took so long ot spell check. I’m listening to the new song by Nelly Furtado called ‘Promiscuous’, which is fucking incredible.

ANYWAYS.

I’m done. With college. Unless I failed shit. In which case, holler summer school. All I know it that Ds make DEGREES, and I’m okay with that.

Also, you may be wondering…

I had only beers tonight…

In addition to 2 drinks called ‘Blue Motorcycles’. Now, I’m settled for the next few days.

Either which way. I’m drunk. I’m done with college. And I have a few days until graduation [the 14th].

If you’d like to send presents, they’d be much appreciated. BECAUSE I HAVE A DEGREE!!!

Also, I’ll be in Syracuse until the 20th. So if you are in the area, let me know. I will rock. Your. Socks. Off.

And you’ll never get them back.

I Feel Like I Give Thanks To You, Internet, On A Monthly Basis

Yesterday I had my exit interview with the head of the residence life office. Despite my being fired, she showed a lot of respect to me, which I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate. She thanked me several times for what I did, and cited just protocol issues when it relates to my job status. She also said, though, that I can at least leave my job knowing that I had not sold out any part of my soul. How deep is that? I felt like I was being praised as the Unknown Rebel of Tiananmen Square.

In the exit interview, I got to talk about everything I thought was good, bad and horrible about working for residence life. That’s a post for another day, seeing as how I want to make absolutely sure I have no connection with Syracuse University before I begin to relate how HORRIBLE being an RA was for me this year. I’ve learned from some people that writing about your job may not be the best of ideas. Seriously, this year was more of a struggle for me professionally than any other year for me. This was the fifth RA staff I’ve been on, and I’d never encountered the problems and obstacles with them that I did this year.

So post graduation, expect some nice little posts about my experiences in the job and how Hoggish Greedly was my boss and how she hated me and wanted to cut me up and eat me and make a throne out of my bones. But again, that’s neither here nor there. For now, anyways.

I would also like to give a big thank you to everyone who’s been so supportive of me. Comments, emails and friends alike, I really appreciate the good words. It makes the whole transition a lot easier for me. Also, I’d like to say thank you to my wonderful roommates who have opened up their home to me. Having roommates is so much fun, I can’t even tell you. I just got my big toe waxed.

Would that have happened if I were still an RA? I think not.

Now I need to go find some ice.

Guess What?!

So a week ago I told you about how I won several awards for all the work I’ve done as an RA.

The day after, I was called into a meeting with my boss and her boss, where I was told that my position has been terminated.

Yup. I educated myself into being fired from the RA position.

So here’s the story. Buckle up, because it’s not a short one.

On Saturday night, I was at a party. At this party, I came across a resident of my hall from another floor who was passed out cold. The RA instinct kicked in, so we got her an ambulance. I rode with her to the hospital, with two of my friends following in my car behind me. Please note that at this moment, we were not drunk. Very important.

So at the hospital, we saw our friend being wheeled away while being asked questions like Are you allergic to any drugs? and such things. I’m not sure what type of training this staff went through, but people who are passed out normally don’t engage in any type of worthwhile conversation. Anyways, my friends and I became very upset. Not only did we become worried about our friend, but we started to become very nervous. At this time, it had been 2 hours since we had seen her or heard from her. During this time, no one let her know that 3 people were here for here, nor did anyone hospital wise give us any info.

Needless to say, we were upset and worried.

When the nurse [who had, up until this point, been very mean and condescending] came into the waiting room, we asked her what was up with our friend. She proceeded to YELL at us and talk down to us in the most condescending way I’ve ever been talked to by a stranger. Finally, when the nurse made my friend cry, I had enough. I stood up and told her she was being unprofessional, disrespectful and rude. I told her that she should never talk to someone that way, especially people waiting for word on their friend. I told her she should never speak to a patient or customer ever again that way. She called the Department of Public Safety [who recognized me as an RA and chatted with me about a past incident that I handled...quite well, I might add] but had to ask me to leave.

I alerted my superiors on duty about it. Later, I was told I was ‘drinking’ while handling an incident. I was also told I was ‘belligerent’ with the hospital staff. So I was fired.

Needless to say, I found this unfair, and prepared to appeal the decision. It was at this time that I was alerted that the woman I made go to the hospital wasn’t drunk. She may have been drugged. She told me that she hadn’t that much to drink, and that she felt that something happened to her.

This didn’t make a difference in my appeal.

I was told later [on Friday] that I was fired because I didn’t respond early enough to my superiors and that I had disrespected the hospital staff, which necessitated a rebuilding of trust. I could not save my job.

Now, I have been let go from the RA position [in which I won 3 awards for the day before] and been embarrassed in front many people. My service frat. My co-workers. My friends.

Now, I’m staying with people whom I was planning on living with this year before the RA bug bit me and told me to stay for a third year. Upsetting? Yes. Disappointing? Sure. Embarrassing? God, you bet. But I would make the same decision every time, if I had to. I know I did the right thing, and I know that this woman is better off because of my actions.

Sadly, I have been forced from the position that I so much loved over the course of 3 years.

Now, though, you understand why I was so vehement about not being drunk with a past post. At that point, my sobriety had been questioned so much, that it began to get on my nerves when people accused me of being drunk. So I want to apologize to all of you, and let you know that I’m sorry, and that I didn’t mean to seem harsh or extensive in my responses.

I just was surprised how much my level of drunkenness had been called into question. That’s all.

More than likely, there will be more updates about this. Such as friends, info on who drugged the woman, and living conditions. Oh, that’s right. I was kicked out of my room, and am now living with friends off campus. So anyways, I will keep you all updated.

But please. Don’t be worried or upset. I have a roof over my head. I have friends by my side. And I know that what I did saved some person from a much worse fate than hospitalization. I do not regret anything that I did. So please don’t worry.

Talk to you soon!

Staccato

Two papers left. Can’t talk.

They are so long. No time to do it. I may die and not graduate. That’s not true. But panic is setting in.

In Barnes & Noble writing. Can’t write that much. Blog. Must. Be. In. Very short. Sentences. Must save energy.

Also. Fired from RA job. More to follow.

This Is Called A Lame Ass Post

So based upon what happens today at 9:30 am, Monday’s post will either be very very jubilant or extremely disheartening.

We’ll see what happens…

Also, I graduate a week from Sunday. Anyone want to give me a job? Preferably in the entertainment industry…television etc…in New York City? Let me know.

And seeing how this entry is residing in Lame City right now, why don’t you shoot your browser over here. This site is run by Courtney’s boyfriend, Brian, and some of his friends. It’s Kottke-esque, but with a little more zing. Mainly because they talked about stuff like King Tut’s penis and how it was recently found.

Check out The Sarchasm. You’ll enjoy it.

small sidenote…I’m watching America’s Funniest Home Videos Bob Saget style…I think I hate him for this show.

Graduation? COME HERE NOW!

Should I feel insulted that most of the internet believes that my most recent of posts, which garnered more comments than any of my other ones as of late [yes...I commented 4 times...which just shows how much I thought of the past batch of posts...], everyone believes I was tanked?

Thanks, guys, for the vote of confidence.

Like Nicole said, this isn’t the first time this week my sobriety has been called into question. I can’t talk about that right now, but rest assured, you’re all going to get an earful from me in the next week or so. As soon as my counsel says that it’s okay, it’s story time.

Now, I have to go. I’ve taken a long enough of a break at this point. It’s almost 3 am, and I need to finish this paper before my mind explodes. At this point, I have 10 days until graduation. Simultaneously, I’m also asking God to please just let the lightning come.

10. More. Days.

Also. Late at night, TLC has some fucked up programming that is entitled in a very distinct way.

On right now? Born With Two Heads.

Gross.

Letters I’ve Been Meaning To Write…

Dear Room,

I think it’s about time you learned how to clean yourself. I don’t know where you expect to go in life if you can’t simply take care of yourself. Things need to change. I’m not your bitch, bitch.

Love,
John

Dear Ellen Degeneres,

You’re so much better than Oprah. You’re a better dancer, too. And a funnier interviewer. And just all around better. I think you should invite me on your show, then we could have drinks. I think that’d be fun.

Love,
John

Dear Car,

Despite your dirty windows and nonchalant appearance, I have to say that I’ve fallen in love. You may not have a CD player. Or a tape player. Or automatic locks or windows or anything. And I may have had to cut a whole in the bottom of you so that I can propel you Fred Flintstone style because sometimes you don’t like to go up hills, and I understand that, because hell, no one really does. But your inconspicuous look and good natured personality allows me to park you in the garage without Parking Services noticing you are there. I appreciate that.

Love,
John

Dear Rhetorical Criticism Paper,

I hate you.

Love,
John

Dear Q-Tips,

I never thought you could be as useful as you are. I think that it is a shame that you are overlooked and used without proper recognition. Huzzah to you.

Love,
John

Dear Hair, Finger and Toe Nails,

I hear you continue growing even after I die. I find this unfair and, no offense, a waste of such an ability. Frankly, I think you’re gloating is a bit premature. Go ahead and grow after I die. See if I care. Or anyone. I’ll be dead. So there.

Love,
John

Let’s Get Physical

I’ve been on a health kick as of late. Please note health kick merely means I think about eating healthy and exercising properly and all that fun stuff. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m partaking in these actions.

For the last semester, at least three times a week, I’ve been at the gym. This means lifting weights, doing cardio, stretching and sweating. Because of all of this healthy living shit, I’ve actually lost some weight and gained some muscle. Which is great, because now, instead of having the body of an 8th grader, I’ve got the hot physique of a well defined 8th grader. It’s good stuff.

The only issue I have is my eating habits. I type this to you as I gorge my way through a box of Parmesan & Garlic Cheez-Its. The best thing about them, in case you didn’t know, is that after you eat a few handfuls, you can scrape off all the excess cheesey goodness with your teeth. It’s like an extra prize just for eating!

So I need to get a handle on this issue of mine. I’ve gotten better with some other food related problems, but I still haven’t learned to consistently eat in a healthy manner. I’ve got this skewed version of healthy eating where I’ll eat anything chicken. Grilled, sliced, fried, stuffed…chicken is healthy, so what the hell, right?

Sometimes I do the diet thing, though. Salad with no dressing and diced grilled chicken. Some fruit and veggies. Water or tea or something non-carbonated. It’s a balanced, healthy meal. Then it’s back to rum and chili cheese fries. This is not a balanced lifestyle, my friends.

I’m hoping that I’ll be able to force myself to eat better and continue with the gym regime once I get home. If I can survive that, then I’m in the clear. If not, I’ll get fat and have to worry about buying a whole new wardrobe. Which, in all sincerity, is my only issue with getting bigger.