I feel like a season finale. I have packed all my things and had my sad moments. I have done the nostalgia bit and the crying thing. I have planned out where I am going and what the worst outcome could be, all while I wait for a letter in my mail box that reads whether or not the appeal I requeated to live in B/C for the rest of the semester. I hate rtating casts and I pray that this cast will finish out my junior year. Today’s events only strengthened my need to stay as we played volley ball and I saw just how much people around here care that I may be leaving. Total strangers were asking me how it was coming along with my petition to stay in B/C. I have also come to the conclusion that smokers are cool. They all took a lot of concern for my dilema and all of them want to stand up for me.
The guys on my floor also have been incredible. Brian Summers showed a lot of concern which touched me and even Beth’s heart throb Hot Dave (not 309) seemed exceptionally cordial this evening. We played some “name that tune” and I really felt like a part of the floor. Spectacular.
The day had it’s downs, like when I came to the realization that David (309) and Aubrie are perfect for each other and when I realized that some of my friends are really not my friends at all, just nosey, gossipy, attention obsessed bitches. Also, my complications with transfering my stuff to my new home were lame, I hate when I am absent minded and have to walk back to my car 6 times.
But the big downfall of the evening was bigotry, plain and simple. Now, Patrick was kind enough to help me in my T-Com movie tonight, and in one scene, I play an annoying announcer who gets all buddy chummy with Patrick and walks him down the hall with his arm Patricks shoulder. I guess these guys saw this and interpretted it as a “gay” thing. It also seems Fishman (Patricks grase bag roommate) told them about a funny BAP inside joke involving tatoos on our feet.
Anyhow, these two puss sponges came by with arms around each other saying “we’re queer, we’re gonna get tatoos on our feet”. Now, normally this sort of blunt homophobia doesn’t phase me, but this particular bash was pointed at not only me, but at a friend, a one Patrick Irish. I felt bad, as if it was my fault that he had to endure that ridicule. Then there was the odd silence after it happened where I felt Patrick was ashamed cause someone referred to him as “queer”. He probably wasn’t ashamed, but the thought still crossed me. Bigotry never gets me, but this time it hit home.