By Popular Demand

Quote: "Life is uncharted territory. It reveals its story one moment at a time." – Leo F. Buscaglia

Six months.

I don’t even believe it. I haven’t written here in six months, easily the longest gap since I started this diary in July 2003. I wish I had better explanations as to why I haven’t kept up with my writing. It’s not because I haven’t had anything to write about, just the opposite in fact. Part of me believed that my last entry, the one I wrote before going away to school, was a nice ending. For so long I’d written about wanting to get out of town, spend time with different people, have new experiences and I was finally doing it. It felt appropriate that the last entry in this diary be written the night before I left. I liked that much remained uncertain because I felt like that had become a theme in my story. I was heading into a world of uncertainty.

I’ve since learned that our lives don’t have themes or a singular story. It’s the writer in me trying to edit and make sense of my own world. Our lives are made up of several different stories with beginnings, middles and endings all taking place at the same time. That’s exactly what my first semester away at school was, a series of beginnings, middles and endings. I loved every second of it.

I do wish I’d written about it as it occured. I want to be able to remember my first semester away from home as clear as I remember my freshmen year of high school, a year in which I wrote every last detail about in this very diary. For now, I will give you the recap. I really do plan on writing more and I’m sure at some point each story will be elaborated.

Day one I met my roommate Josh, a guy with long hair, a thick beard and the tattoo of an Indian chief on his ass cheek. The last of which he showed us during a game of Never Have I Ever on night two. Part American Indian, he is cool, calm and collected. Rarely opinionated, I’ve yet to hear him say a bad thing about anyone. Wasn’t long before I met Rob, a vegetarian with tattoos who spoke with me about philosophy and music while describing his fantasy’s of living in the wilderness without internet or cell phones. We’d argue about the relevance of facebook and society, always on separate sides. We quickly decided to become best friends. There was Tori, with her dark hair and "Bette Davis eyes" (a term she used, not me). We watched Garden State and talked about 500 Days of Summer the day we met. Of course I fell for her. She was sensitive and thoughtful, as early as the third night I really bought that she was listening intently to everything I had to say. She had a love for Megan Fox and a tattoo on her rib cage which read "all the strength you need is right there inside you."

It was only the 4th night when the police busted up a party we were attending. Although in all actuality, it was a party I’d created. It had made so much sense to introduce the friends who lived on my floor to my friends who lived in the on campus apartments. I’d made the phone calls, instructing certain people to be invited, making requests as to what alcohol would be purchased. Though I’d drank a large amount by that point I’ll never forget the fear and disbelief I felt upon watching two uniformed officers enter the front door. Nor will I forget the phone call I had to make to my father twenty minutes later.

The effects of the party were these: a ticket for possession of alcohol, a court date, a bloody hand due to a cement wall that I had punched in drunken frustration because of the former, and the loss of my shot glasses. 

A week later I was in court, my father came with and to my shock promised not to inform my mother. We were eventually charged with a noise violation due to our cooperation with the police. My Dad paid for the ticket, wanting this to go away as soon as possible, fearing if my mother had found out she’d force me to commute. That’s what I did with my new found freedom, nearly flushed it down the drain immediately.

We laugh about court date and the jokes the judge made. We still don’t laugh about the way Tori and I basically moved in together afterwards. Sleepovers every night, sharing meals, spending all morning in bed listening to music. We especially don’t laugh about my realization that a girl I’d know a month had become my live in girlfriend. Or how she got mad the day a girl neither of us knew sat down next to me on a shuttle or when I called her a piece of work and she slammed a door shut in the crowded internet cafe. It’s safe to say we imploded before it got serious.

There were failed printers, struggles to convince a computer professor that I deserved a better grade. Halloween was spent at another school, Rob and I dressed as gay cowboy’s from Brokeback Mountain. People hung off balconies, threw up, hooked up and smoked. We saluted a wild night with shots of Southern Comfort. We reveled in excitement upon discovering Archie’s, a shady liquor store that sold me alcohol without ever asking for an ID. I especially grew to enjoy late night’s at the diner, trying to talk over the other customers each drunker or higher than the next.

Every Thursday night felt like Christmas, rushing back to our rooms with booze, looking forward to a night in we wouldn’t remember. The best of which include a night spent with a freshmen named Tina in a stairwell. She’d dared me or maybe I’d dared myself to swing from the top railing and fly down the steps. At this point, it doesn’t matter. I know it resulted in us making out for hours. We stayed in the stairwell until the sun came up, discussing the crush that was growing between us. There were complications, as there always are.
  "You are exactly the kind of girl I was hoping I’d meet when I got here," I’d stated honestly that night in the stairwell.
Wasn’t long before we were sleeping together. I sent her flowers in hopes of wooing her into commitment. Soon enough I’d discover that I was far from the only guy she slept with. I was bitter for a while, but the words I said to her that night in the stairwell hold true.

My laptop was stolen. No one is sure by who and my parents have since bought me a new one. I’d discovered this fact on a Friday night. My roommate had left for the weekend. Rob was visiting his girlfriend. Tori and Tina were MIA. I don’t think I can remember ever feeling more alone.

The night we know refer to as the Goldschlager incident took place mid November. Few of us remember much about that night. I know Rob, Josh and I broke out into song upon listening to I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys. I remember taking more shots of Goldschlager, long after I’d promised to cut myself off. Cait, Rob’s girlfriend, wrapped herself in her comforter and insisted on being called the La Quinta monster. I repeated that chugging from the bottle was a bad idea but did nothing to stop anyone nor myself. I lost my shoes and a goldfish died under mysterious circumstances, though it’s no secret there were gold flakes floating around the tank. I took pride in having made it to work the next morning, especially having spend the rest of night throwing up along with everyone else.

There were other unforgettable moments too, like the first time I came home from school having not seen my parents in 3 weeks. My Dad greeted me with a hug and my Mom made sure the fridge was fully stocked with Snapple. I swear college has made me like them more. My Dad and I have a different relationship and its a good one. He understands that I’ve basically crossing the bridge into adulthood but doesn’t leave me hanging out to dry. I can always go to him, as well as my Mom. Leaving home is quite possibly the best thing I could have done for us.

Grades? I’ve got a 3.34, having received A’s and B’s in all of my classes.

The things I wrote above, only a handful of what I’d gone through. It’d be impossible to write about the intricacies of the new friendships I’ve made, as well as the state of the friendships I’d left behind in one entry. I’m sorry for shoving so much in one entry, for not spreading it over months the way that it took place. Just know that regardless of the stolen laptops, tickets, court dates, hang overs, broken hearts, bad decisions and long drives home, I really did have an amazing semester and I’m glad every moment of it happened. 

I promise to write more.