GNAR KILL

Two days and summer at home already seems like a distant memory. Living at home for the summer and down here for the rest of the year creates large, strange rifts in my consciousness. It’s like I live two completely separate lives. Two different Trevors exist, several hundred miles apart, with different personalities, friends, and appearances. Every once in a while, there are overlaps. Friends from here come up to visit, or I speak to friends from home on the phone… these are eerie experiences to be sure, glitches in the matrix.

Anyway, Trevor 2 is back in effect now, picking up right where he left off. The only real layovers from summer are vast holes in my academic memory. I retain equations and programming languages like Oprah’s refrigerator retains ice cream: You can fill it up, if you want, but look away for a second and every last drop is gone. I don’t know how I can possibly revert to a 6th grade scholastic level in 3 short months, but I dread relearning algebra through calculus in the next week in order to be caught up with my classes. Fuck.

It’s been an eventful couple of days, at least. Hopefully this breakneck pace is indicative of future events; idleness, I’ve learned, is one of the great tormentors of my mind. Take away the stimulus and activity of new experiences and difficult situations, and my brain takes it upon itself to fill the void with all manner of strange psychoses. Elaborate universes and ridiculously improbable situations seem to cohere spontaneously out of the ether of my subconscious; for lack of a better word, I essentially weird myself into unhappiness and frustration when I get bored. This is a terrible affliction for one of my monumental laziness.

Not this year though. This year is balls to the wall. Take no prisoners. Shame and cowardice and a full night’s sleep are antiquities which shall be abandoned like the horse drawn carriage. Leave that bullshit to the Amish, they can cruise around behind a filthy animal being morbid and pathetic, cuz fuck that, I’m getting a beer and headbutting a cop.

A good chunk of last year was wretched. I have no one to blame but myself, so I plan on never repeating the mistakes which have haunted me for too long. Youth is just a raucous and fleeting form of invincibility, and this is the year we will put it to the test. I will never be more than I am right now, so it’s time to rock.

Enough self-indulgent pep-talk. We went to the Grad last night, let’s discuss.

For the lucky hordes who are unfamiliar with the hive of scum and villainy that is The Grad, consider yourselves blessed. The Grad is basically the only 18 and up “club” in the San Luis Obispo area, and it is BOTTOM OF THE BARREL. A typical night consists of 40 people from Santa Maria High School, Poly students who are too young or too pathetic to go downtown to the bars, and a healthy crop of aging perverts and deviants who sneak out of their lonely Paso Robles apartments and comb their graying hair in order to stalk around leering at college chicks and muttering creepy shit under their breath. Last night was much the same, but with one important exception: Wowees.

Shabooya.

*several hours later*

Had to go to farmers with my boys. Where were we….
Wowees.

Wow.

Farmers just cemented the impressions I garnered at the loathsome grad. Maybe this crop of freshmen (well, freshwomen I suppose) is authentically better looking than previous years. Maybe I’ve just never paid that much attention before.

Maybe I’m getting old as fuck and I’m having a premature midlife crisis, feeling age and gray hair and mortgages creeping up on me remorselessly while these kids start their first year in college, looking wide-eyed eyed and hopeful and gut-wrenchingly cute.

Whatever the cause, *ahem* holla!

“Yes, I do live off campus. Yes, I can buy alcohol. Yes, I do know where the Psych department office is.”

Super seniors are, as they say, yes men.

Has it really been that long since I was a freshman? Jesus christ, the sheer ridiculousness of it boggles my mind. I’m getting dangerously close to adult now, and shit, who wants that?

I’ll drive these dark thoughts out with a Natty and some Oreos, please excuse me for a moment.



I feel significantly refreshed.

Let’s get back to more important things. In order to continue this discussion, despite how pedantic and academic it will surely become, we have to set aside the following enormous, imposing facts:

1) This quarter will be by far the most difficult & time consuming of my entire life, school-wise. The two most dreaded courses in the computer engineering program simultaneously. I want to die. Plus I have a job.

2) Women hate me and I have, on occasion, returned the favor.

3) I am as approachable as a rotting carcass and almost as personable.

DISREGARDING the demands on my time and my own acknowledged ineptitudes, let’s talk about The Girl Question.

Should one date? Do the benefits of emotional and physical companionship outweigh the staggering downsides to sharing your life with such creatures? Can I afford it?

From a purely mathematical, financial, logical, and intelligent point of view, no. I should stay the fuck away and spend my time doing pushups, reading books, and passing classes. From a stupid, never learn from your mistakes, don’t-give-in-you-fuck-oh-no-too-late point of view, yes.

Let’s assume Person A decides to set aside all rationality and advice, choosing instead to seek out affection. Where to begin?

Why not ask out one of those pretty, fun, intelligent girls in your computer engineering classes?

OH WAIT.

Without a worthy pool to draw from in the school context, where to turn?

What about just talking to a random person you think is attractive?

Scenario 1:

Person A: “Hello, miss.”

Chickenhead: “…Hello. Do I know you?”

Person A: “No, I was just over there studying for my accounting midterm and saw you sitting here.”

*Person A frantically hides the green graph paper and Advanced Coding In A Unix Environment textbook in his backpack*

Chickenhead: “Watching people is creepy.”

Person A: “Oh. Well I was wondering if you’d like to…”

Chickenhead: “Is your name Mike?”

Person A: “uh, no. It’s…”

Chickenhead: “Are you in a band, or do you know people in bands?”

Person A: “I can play the Indiana Jones theme song on guitar…”

Chickenhead: “Do you own Volcom hats or a 2004 F-150?”

Person A: “Hell no. What kind of ques…”

Chickenhead: “Stay away from me I want you to die.”

Person A: “Have a good one.”

Scenario 2:

Person A: “Hey there, what’s your name?”

Fly Honey: “I have a boyfriend.”

Scenario 3:

Person A: “Hey there, are you lost?”

Hollabackyoungin: “My WOW leader is a body-building ninja stay back.”

Scenario 4:

Person A: “Hey, what are you doing here? We don’t get many girls as pretty as you in the Networking lab.”

Hizo: “I used to be a man.”

Person A: “Eww.”

Hizo: “And have a boyfriend.”

Scenario 5:

#polychat
(persona) hey there
(xXCuTiEpAtoOtIeXx) hi
(persona) asl?
(xXCuTiEpAtoOtIeXx) i have a bf lol.
(persona) this sucks let’s give up and play dota
(soCalPM9) ok but you have to be on my team because you are too good and are unbeatable and are the best dota player ever and i worship you like a god.
(persona) true.

There is much more to be said on this topic, but I’m bouncin. We’ll pick up where we left off later. To be continued…

-T.

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