Last week while at school I
overheard two people talking in hushed tones. Naturally, the hushed tones
indicated that they did not want to be overheard, and naturally, this compelled
me to eavesdrop.
Thing 1: Dude, I don’t know what to do. If my parents find
out they’re going to kill me.
Thing 2: You’d better tell them though. It’s better if they
hear it from you than Facebook.
Thing 1: Yeah, but you don’t understand. They really might kill
me. My mom owns over 30 guns and knows how to use them. Plus, this is the one
thing I told them I would never ever ever do. I don’t know how I could tell
them.
Thing 2: That’s rough man. What do you think you should do?
Thing 1: I need to tell them. I just don’t know how.
Thing 2: Do it like a bandaid. Just rip it off quick.
Thing 1: Do you think I could text them?
Thing 2: I don’t know. How often do they text?
Thing 1: All the time. They hardly ever actually call me.
Still, this is really serious though. I don’t know if a text would be enough.
Thing 2: Well, here’s what you do: Write it out as if you
were going to text them. Then call and go off your script. It’ll help get
things straight in your head.
Thing 1: That’s a great idea. Thanks man.
At this point I was dying to know
what Thing 1 had done that would cause his parents to kill him, but I was
running late for class and couldn’t stick around. I entered the classroom just
as the bell rang and hurriedly took a seat in the back of the classroom. The
teacher began prancing about the front of the room talking about our new book
and whether or not the tree sap represented life or death. Or both. Or eternal
life. Or love. Or decay of the capitalist sphere. Or the Spanish Fascists.
Honestly, I don’t know what he was talking about. I usually have no idea where
the conversation goes in class. I just make a comment about fatalism or the
sublime every now and then and people think I know what I’m talking about. It’s
not very honest, but I have a sneaky suspicion that it’s what all the professors
do too. Anyway, once the discussion gets underway I can pull out my laptop and
start checking Twitter and playing Fishy. (P.S. if you’ve never played Fishy,
it can destroy lives, but the proudest moment of mine was being the biggest
fish in the pond and eating everything else thereby ‘winning’ the game.) I like
to wait to take out my laptop because if I start playing around at the
beginning of class it might seem suspicious. If I only take it out during
discussion I could claim I’m taking notes. I’ve a deceptive personality with
little scruples in the way of social morals, but I do wish to keep up
appearances. So I play Fishy and think about Thing 1 and Thing 2. I imagine the
kinds of things Thing 1 could have done to get in so much trouble with his
parents. I attend BYU, so that list is even longer than it would usually be. In
addition to universally despicable behaviors such as murder and rape, the BYU
list must include drinking beer, touching a boob, seeing a boob, dating a
Catholic or a Democrat, and various tiny sins like peeking in a book during a
take home exam or buying a Mt. Dew on Sunday. Not knowing anything about this
boy’s parents except that his mother is a gun nut I have a hard time imagining
what he did. I run through the list and eventually settle on him dating a black
girl. I know that casts his parents in a very negative light, but then again
his mom is a gun nut, so I feel justified.
After class I headed back to the
Library where I overheard these two Things having their ‘private’ conversation.
Unfortunately, they were gone. I understood they probably wouldn’t be there,
but I was disappointed all the same. I should have stayed longer and tried to
glean some information about their identities. I never got a good look at Thing
1’s face, but since it’s BYU I probably couldn’t have told him apart from any
other goon around. Except myself. I allow my hair to grow over my ears
slightly, so I’m different. Also I only shave once or twice a week. These are
small differences, but around here it’s enough. Since there was nobody
interesting around anymore I decided to get out my books and start reading.
Technically this is studying, but as I am a horrible studier (is that even a
word?), I call it reading. University has been a wonderful time for me. I’m
exposed to all these new books I never would have read or heard of without it.
Of course, sometimes I believe there are good reasons I never would have known
of these books without professors. Some of them are quite good, but others are
droll and horribly symbolic. I do love some decent symbolism, but after 4 years
I’m ready to just read some Harry Potter and turn off my analytics for a while.
After an hour of reading three
pages of text as hard to slog through as a Louisiana bayou, I gave up and
headed home. I rarely try to read these things anyway, but I thought I’d give
it a shot while I waited for Things 1 & 2 to return. Am I broken? My purest
joy in life comes from snooping around the Harold B. Lee Library prying into
lives of people I don’t care about. Maybe I need a girlfriend. Maybe I need a
boyfriend. I can’t tell anymore. I’m dead inside. Congratulations World. This
is what you have made me.
As I walked home I listened to Iron
and Wine and evaluated my life. I came to the conclusion that I needed a goal.
I decided to try to learn to drive a stickshift. It’s been three days now since
I bought my new car, and I can't seem to get the hang of it. I know you used to have an old stickshift truck, so I wanted to write
and ask if you had any tips. Love you Grandma!
Love,
Keith
