Author and Columnist
Sometimes, I expect adult understanding and healing from people in my past who were as much children as you are. This is far from everyone -- there were adults in your orbit who should have known far better -- but I cannot fault another twenty-year-old for being a stumbling mess. It is what they are made to do.
Consider it an easy way for my brain to absorb the message and not think that I am an enormous and irredeemably misanthrope for dreaming in a video game milieu.
I swear to you, speaking clearly and succinctly is not a crime. You will still seem intelligent with the added benefit that more people will be able to understand you are smart.
You are lucky I did not go with my original interpretation that he has yet to sleep with two of the potential soul mates.
You have yet to sleep with the woman who will break you of your worst habits when it comes to love -- the first you will love without reservation or evasion -- and the one you will love utterly and marry.
I'm not claiming your video game dream was precognitive, only telling you the score.
A voice from about stated something like, "Golden cups do not matter. Treasures do not matter. Love. Is. All. That. Matters. Pick the ONE you want to be with."
Your dream narrator is not cool with polyamory. (You are not polyamorous -- you can barely have two friends at a time -- but still.)
The character was to pick from these six. I tried to look at an unfamiliar one and woke up.
I hope they were brunettes with lovely eyes since that is what you are getting.
I know one is supposed to cool down after the actual event, but you must consider that I had run through this interview at least fifty time in my mind on the drive from New Paltz.
That's because you have untreated mental illness, specifically anxiety. Doing this only tortures you. It does not help you in interviews since no one will ask the granular questions you've asked yourself, and you become uneasy that the interviewer is not following your script.
It began, like all good things do, with Namahs wishing to rule over others.
This is why most Pagan groups form: Someone on a nascent power trip trying to use their religion as a fulcrum to sex.
Of course, like most things NeoPagan, the group now claims they have existed immensely longer, tracing their roots back to a spirituality club called The Awareness Club that existed in the early '70's.
Wicca itself has that very nature. It couldn't simply be that people in the fifties decided to cobble together tatters of past religions via spotty scholarship and practice it as a cohesive whole. No, they had to be descendants of the Salem witches (who weren't witches), who were part of an unbroken lineage going back to the Big Bang.
It is okay that a religion is new as long as its adherents are sincere and no one takes child brides to brand with their initials.
I am a Pagan, possibly one of the persons that should be more willing to agree that the club has some sort of bloodline before Namahs and his anal, domineering, anti-Christian regurgitation.
I am unsure if you comprehend how perfectly Pagan Student Union is a microcosm of Neopaganism since this is precisely what you will find when you put together more than three Pagans.
Another gave a half an hour presentation about Hinduism that she wrote for her Indian Culture class. Finally I shut her down by asking, "Are you saying that all the Jews Hitler killed deserved to be cruelly tortured and systematically murdered?" That was pretty much the gist she was going with. Her retort was something to the extent that each of those Jews was Hitler and he was working off the karma for killing them retroactively.
You write this into your first book. It is thematically relevant, not just mocking, but at least she made an impression on the literary canon!
I know that I am coming off sounding cynical and sarcastic, but this is from disappointment. That this group could be a positive force on campus and instead... well, judge yourself from my biased words.
This almost passes for self-awareness, except that you continue to grumble about it rather than being proactive or practicing radical acceptance.
I began crossing but, oh no, there was some guy. Yep, some guy was maybe supposed to get out of class early or something and he might, you know, want to come. They thought, maybe, he was in the dorm next to us. No one lived in that dorm, so they banged on the doors trying to get in. I rolled my eyes, lay in the grass, and tried to stay calm.
Do not let the nature of other college students raise your blood pressure. They are behaving perfectly in character, and it would have been more fun to pretend with them than be grouchy in the grass, feeling you are superior.
someone shined a flashlight in my face and states that I look just like a corpse.
Listen, I am not claiming attention-hungry jerks don't comprise PSU.
Then a girl (we'll call her Swiss Miss) bent over me, genuinely concerned with my well being, and asked why I was laying in the grass. Swiss Miss wasn't being annoying or pretentious. So I told her I was looking at the stars. She smiled and I decided I would continue on with them.
Yet another time when your desire to give people pseudonyms bothers me, as I have no idea who this might be. Nowadays, there would be social media I could sort through to figure out her identity, but instead, she is lost.
Evidently the tennis courts are supposed to be haunted.
Listen, I am not claiming attention-hungry...
According to her, the undisclosed purpose of this little nature walk (for such was how it was billed) was to show people where the ghosts were on campus.
What an odd and utterly predictable thing for them to do. I enjoy a good ghost story. I doubt a tennis court offered any.
Emily and I described the spirit we encountered in the cemetery.
The what? I do not think you wrote about this. Perhaps that might have been more interesting than most of this entry.
Swiss Miss looked at the stars with me for a little bit, an action that I greatly and entirely appreciated.
I am growing more frustrated that you didn't record her better so I could know her now. I do not think she impacts your narrative and life much more, but that doesn't mean I don't wish otherwise.
Emily, fresh out of not having a job (another entry, I hope), joined me.
I hope too! You skip over bizarrely significant and interesting topics to focus on nonsense.
She and I frolicked happily and nonsexually, discussing literature and Tae Kwon Do.
I am confused why you specified it was nonsexual. Would one immediately assume frolicking is sexual?
Emily lamented that the stones would not work for her, that she is "broken." A pompous self-appointed leader of the group haughtily suggested that this was because Emily was never open in the first place.
While not a flawless being, Emily is pathologically open.
I may slap your hand about getting irritated with members of PSU, but this does not absolve them from being irritating.
