Tuesday, April 24, 2012

042312

I wake up this morning, 26 years of age, in my bed down the hall from my parents room, alone with the my iPod and headphones that I wear at night to fall asleep to whatever’s on National Public Radio.  I have had the same routine for months now.  My mom wakes me up this morning at 7:45 AM because it’s snowing outside and she wants me to take her to a doctor’s appointment at Rochester General Hospital, where my dad also works, in the hospital laboratory.  The first thing I remember after taking a quick shower and throwing on some clothes, I’m walking towards the garage admiring how pretty the snow is in April when *THUNK* I run smack dab into the low-hanging garage door that I always automatically duck under to get to the car.  I know I should be angry, but I’m not really, and that fact is disturbing.  I take this physical attack against my body as an omen for things to come, but I’m not really scared either.  I drive in my usual haze of automobolic confidence, though a little wary that my normally programmed automated responses to my environment have been obscured today; I am yet successful.  My father greets us with his usual grin and business-like handshake, a display of warmth.  While my mom goes in for her brief appointment, my dad takes me to get a coffee and then guides me on a quick tour of the area of the hospital where he works, a narrow well-lit hallway that houses the hematology, histology, microbiology, and other chemical laboratories that are responsible for the testing of bodily humors.  I was interested enough to stay longer, but when we get back to the office my mom was being seen, she is walking out the door, perfect timing.
                After we get home again, my mom is off to her work at St. John Fisher College and I am off to the East Avenue Coffee Roasters where I go to do work, though not to work.  I have a form to fill out that the government sent me regarding my unemployment insurance, saying that their research shows that I may not have lost my job due to ‘lack of work’ but that I may have actually quit of my own accord and therefore my claim is under review.  I answer the questions provided as best I can on the little space provided, but given the overall complexity of my case, I doubt I will be receiving much more free money.   I’ve had four to five cups of coffee at this point and am completely wired when I remember that my friend Grace whom I saw at the Farmer’s Market on Saturday mentioned that she would be working at Joe Bean Coffee Roasters on Monday (today), so I go there next.
                The traditional rule for adult beverages for seems to apply to coffee too so my first coffee when I arrive is on the house, Columbian especial.  I sit down and talk with Ecarg (Grace backwards) for awhile and I tell her about how ‘the greatest trick the Devil ever played was to convince man that there is no such thing as evil,’ and my theory on the light spectrum of sciences (mathematics-physics-chemistry-biology-psychology-anthropology-sociology) and since she is a sociologist this sparks some debate because she questions why anthropology is more specific a science than sociology.  Indigo frequently blends into purple.  Then, branching from sociology and relationships we get into the topic of gender normative roles vs. same sex relationships.  I make the point that same sex relationships are always more capricious than normative couples because in a traditional sexual relationship there is always the possibility of bearing a child in the back of the minds of each. She makes the point that the use of contraceptives can pretty much nullify this fact.  I argue that although they can be used to mollify this fact, the possibility of making mistakes ultimately makes the relationship one of greater seriousness than that of same-sex couples (and yet isn’t making mistakes and risk-taking together part of what makes it so much fun?).  Same-sex couples needn’t take the fear of God with them into the bedroom because there is no risk involved in conceiving so they have the luxury of mentally disconnecting for the sake of pleasure with less risk (save STI/Ds), therefore that provides them the luxury of being more capricious, although emotional scarring can still occur, which is what some people don’t realize until after intimate faces become recurrent in dreams for which there is no defense.
                I finally get around to ordering another coffee here and turn my attention to Adam, a college student at Nazareth who had been taking video recordings around the store the last two times I was in the shop for making an online advertisement.  I offer him some of my coffee because I’m pretty spun at that point from having no breakfast and drinking six or seven coffees and smoking a cigarette.  My mind feels like it’s at the end of a long tunnel spinning, but I manage to hold a decent conversation with him about Googly® Eyes (new interactive glasses technology from Google®), about Space Invader from Exit Through the Gift Shop and QR code art, and he tells me a bit about Spaulding Gray, the book 1Q84, and the movie “Dinner with Andre,” and I talk about my problems which I know amount to nothing, but I talk because I have so much caffeine in my system that it feels better than puking.  I’m grateful to have an audience.
                After about two hours of this, I tally up and swing by the library to take some more notes, think, reconsider, and then drop off a movie (“The Way”) and leave to get some food back home.  One peanut butter and raisin sandwich and a slice of spanakopita later I’m feeling better.
                After cooking and eating dinner with my parents (I grilled chicken, mom made asparagus and fried potatoes) I watch ritual Seinfeld and baseball with my dad for an hour before retiring to the computer room to do just this.  I play some music, and hold a little pow-wow with Andrew Spuller from Boulder, Colorado over Facebook® chat.  He clues me into some new music from Gil Scott Heron, The Brand New, Jinja Safari, and Seasick Steve, as well as the movie, “Gregory Glenn Ross.”  We conspire about getting me to Boulder to live and work, as well as syncing outlooks on other future endeavors.  I can’t wait, the day is now through, reset to midnight on the 24th of April 2012, a fine year.

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