Love And Other Things I'm Bad At Part 4

Thank G.o.d tomorrow's the last day of August. Almost September, but that's not good enough. Please let it be October soon, so we'll be closer to November and Thanksgiving and me going home or at least getting out of here for a few days.

8/31.

Can't believe what happened today. I'm writing this in the first-floor lounge while other people watch TV because I can't be in my room right now. I'm not welcome. Also it just feels really really awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe it's all my fault, but I don't think so.

Thyme and I had this brilliant insight over lunch, as we surveyed the salad bar for edibles: The Great Roommate Switch. It would be so easy for me just to move across the hall. And Mary Jo and Kirsten get along as well as Thyme and I do, right?

So we went to the housing office to plead our case. We immediately got to see 2 housing counselors. But they wouldn't even "entertain" the idea. I pointed out how different me and Mary Jo are, and how they were supposed to match us with someone compatible. Not someone who eats rolled slices of ham and Swiss for breakfast.

They said that part of college was learning people skills and how to get along with others who were different. They said they'd evaluated all the applications with "personal growth" in mind. And anyway, the semester was already 2 weeks old, they'd done their best, and there was nothing they could do about it now. Thyme started going on a rant about how she was being forced to listen to pop music and it was stunting her personal growth. But it didn't help. Actually, I think she sort of hurt our cause. We left feeling utterly defeated.

So we walk out to the front desk, and who's standing there, waiting to talk to the same counselors? MARY JO AND KIRSTEN!!! How rude. I mean, it's one thing for me and Thyme to want to switch. We have reasons.

So we all got really embarra.s.sed and uncomfortable and everyone started mumbling about how we were just reporting the fact that the showers need more water pressure, and how there's this girl on our floor who's drunk every night and we're very concerned about her, etc.

Does Mary Jo hate me that much? What's up with that? Am I so hard to live with? My family never had a problem with me.

9/1.

Entire hall went to big proCornwall Falls rally tonight. Mary Jo and Kirsten were hovering together, avoiding me and Thyme. Like Thyme and I wanted to hang out with them. Like we wanted to even go to the rally. But Krystyne insisted that this was a fun, all-campus event and we'd be sorry if we missed our first one, and of course she couldn't force anyone, but it would look really bad and it wouldn't be "in the spirit of team spirit"- At which point Annemarie slammed the door in her face and turned up the new Green Day CD.

Thyme and I went to the rally for about 3 minutes, then ditched it. Thyme insisted on going to a workers' rights rally outside the student center instead. Only about 20 people there. Couldn't hear the speaker because the marching band was blaring jock hits of the 1980s and the crowd was singing/yelling along. Also, we were downwind from the big bonfire. Smoke kept getting in my eyes and making me cough.

Go Cornwall Falls, though. Really. Win win win.

"You should have come," Mary Jo said, when we met up back at the room.

For once I think maybe she was right about something.

9/2.

Got off work at noon. Had to be there at 6 to open. Grueling. Anyway, turned out to be fun, because I got to work with Mark and Ben (and also Tricia, who we a.s.signed to be money finagler and therefore got to mostly ignore all morning). Place was really crowded, but we handled it. When we were getting off work, Ben asked me whether I was going to the big football game. I told him that I had other plans. "Oh, well, that's cool. What are your plans?" he asked.

"Um, well, I was thinking of maybe, um, reading," I said. "Either that or sitting around missing my boyfriend."

"Are you insane? Come on, you've got to go to the game. Everyone goes. You can't call yourself a Cornwaller Faller until you do."

"And I'd want to call myself that?" I asked.

He laughed. Somehow, 5 minutes later, Ben, Mark, and I were heading over to the field. I didn't think I should go because Thyme and I pledged we'd never do anything as stupid as attend a football game. Even though I did it a lot in high school, that was a long time ago. I'm older now. More mature. "Besides, the human violence that game promotes is just unthinkable," Thyme said, and she's right, helmets bashing, concussions and separated shoulders all over the field. She was going to spend the day searching for wildflowers and then collecting evidence of harmful chemicals in the dorm drinking water.

So Mark, Ben, and I got there and the game had already started. It was true: everyone was there, and it didn't seem to have much to do with the actual game. I heard someone yelling my name and looked up in the bleachers and saw a bunch of girls from my floor sitting in a row. Mary Jo was waving at me and gesturing for me to come join her. I waved back. I felt important for a second, being recognized. "My roommate," I explained to Mark and Ben. "My whole floor, actually."

"Who's the leather chick?" Mark asked. "I dig her."

I couldn't believe it. Annemarie was sitting next to Krystyne and wearing her black motorcycle jacket. She had probably been dragged there, under duress. She had her Walkman on. I was explaining her to Mark when there was some big play on the field, and Cornwall Falls got the ball. All of a sudden the cheerleaders, who had been sitting in front of us, sprang to their feet. They started chanting the school's initials and thrusting their arms into the air.

"C-F-C! C-F-C!"

It sounded so familiar. Then, for the first time ever, it dawned on me. I stared at their sweaters, at the guy cheerleader's megaphones. CFC. It's not just Cornwall Falls College. It's chlorofluorocarbon. It's a harmful chemical. It's been banned because it's responsible for the destruction of the ozone layer. And this is the school I ended up at? And they have the nerve to stand around and chant that-like it's a good thing?

A running back got knocked out of bounds just then and nearly knocked us down, so we had to move. I ended up sitting with Ben and some of his friends for a while, then at halftime went to sit with Annemarie, who kept making me wear her headphones to check out new songs, which was more fun than listening to people chant "C-F-C." At one point I could have sworn I saw Thyme sitting across field in opposing team bleachers.

"Is that Thyme over there?" I asked.

Annemarie laughed. "Are you high? If she was here, it would be because she was organizing a protest for cheerleaders' rights or the exploitation of hot dog vendors."

"True," I said. "Well, they are exploited. The cheerleaders, I mean. But I can think of a few things I'd rather protest." I was talking for a while before I realized Annemarie had her headphones back on and wasn't listening to me anymore. Rest of crowd was on its feet cheering wildly for C-F-C.

9/3.

Very embarra.s.sing moment today in front of entire college. Might need to think about transferring sooner than planned.

There was this big party outside on the quad today-the Fall Semester Kickoff. It didn't rain. Amazing. Unheard of. There were 3 bands that played, plus a giant cookout, corn on the cob, etc. Thyme and I started out sitting with everyone on our hall, but after a while took off to wander around and check out the crowd. Everyone was in a really good mood. I was having fun. We went out and started dancing.

Then I thought I heard someone calling my name. I had no idea who it would be-thought maybe it was Mark. I kept looking around while I danced. The music got softer and I realized it wasn't just one person shouting my name, it was several. "Courtney, Courtney!"

What? I was thinking. I'm not that good-or bad-of a dancer. And I only know like 12 people here.

"Courtney, Courtney!"

So I yelled, "What?"

Then I heard a bunch of people laughing. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, someone with really long hair that tickled my neck. I turned around.

That's when I saw the giant cob of corn dancing behind me.

First I thought there must have been drugs in the brownies I'd just eaten. Then I realized they weren't yelling "Courtney" at all, they were yelling "Corny!" Because I was standing face-to-face with Corny, the Cornwall Falls mascot. An ear of corn. With long, fake blond hair sticking out of its neck, a giant yellow helmet, a bright green peeling-off costume on its body.

He/she/it took my hand and started twirling me around.

Why are school mascots drawn to me? Why? I was mauled by the Bugling Elk in high school, and in middle school I was kissed by some guy in a tiger suit from the opposing team.

Is it because I love animals so much, that people who dress up as animals feel this overpowering need to get close to me? But wait. That doesn't explain Corny guy. Unless vegetables can feel the love?

"Hey, how's it going?" he said.

"Come on, Thyme. Let's go," I said.

"Cool. We can get back to the dorm in time for that PBS special on communism," Thyme said.

That wasn't exactly my idea of alternative fun, but, oh, well. Maybe now I can skip that chapter in my poli sci textbook.

9/4.

Spent all morning on the phone with Grant. Mary Jo was off at her 9:10 cla.s.s and then her 10:10 and after that I lost track. It was great to have the room to myself. Of course it meant that I missed my 11:10, but, oh, well.

Anyway, I told Grant all about my weekend. He said it sounded like fun.

"Grant, I think we're growing apart," I said.

"What?" He sounded panicked. "What do you mean by that?"

"It wasn't fun. It was awful."

"Oh. Well, okay." He laughed. "In that case, my weekend was awful, too."

"What did you mean by that?" I asked.

I was worried that we weren't communicating very well. First sign of trouble, according to everyone in LDR chat room.

But then our conversation went on for 2 more hours and involved many goofy romantic comments, so I think we're okay. Not to worry. Grant loves me. I love Grant. I can't wait to see him at Thanksgiving, even if it must be at Grandma and Grandpa's in Nebraska, surrounded by relatives and turkeys.

Is that redundant?

We haven't figured out the plan yet, but he might hitch a ride with Mom and Bryan just so he can see me. Hurrah!

9/5.

Made major gaffe today at work. It was a slow time and I was studying the sandwich cards. I still don't have them all memorized and I hate looking stupid and checking the cards when people come in, and if I don't get them right, Jennifer gets mad. So anyway, Ben and I were talking about what an adjustment it was, living in a small town like Wauzataukie, going to what he calls "Cowpie Falls." We were joking about the Cornwall Falls and how we've never actually seen the falls, and maybe it's just another catalog ruse to get people to campus. And how it would be nice to have at least one place where we could buy clothes we liked.

"So where do you get your clothes?" I asked. Because they were very cool, except of course for the standard BF ap.r.o.n.

"Online," he said. "You know, you could order your whole life online if you needed to."

"Really? There's a website for that?" I asked. "Give me a pa.s.sword. Like, now."

Ben laughed. "It's definitely weird being here," he said. "I mean, I feel like such an outsider."

"Oh, I know!" I said. "I totally understand." (Only I didn't.) "You do?" Ben asked.

"Sure. I'm from Colorado and n.o.body really gets that. I mean, they don't even really know where that is. Half the people here can't find it on a map."

Ben looked a little confused, like we weren't having the same conversation anymore. He took off his gold-wire gla.s.ses and rubbed a spot off them. "Okay, but you couldn't tell the difference between Illinois and Indiana the other day," he reminded me. Jennifer had quizzed us on other Bagle Finagle locations, because that's the kind of thing she does for fun.

"That's different-they're smaller and they both start with I. But who confuses Colorado and Wyoming?" I asked. "Anyway, everyone just thinks that all I ever did was ski all day, and they expect me to be a certain way, and they expect me to know what a hot dish is, and they expect me to love meat and cheese and milk and have blond hair, and I just don't."

Ben looked at me and sighed. "Courtney, I'm sure that's sort of frustrating and all. But actually, I was talking about being African-American? And how we're only like five percent of the student population?"

"Oh." I felt like such an idiot. "Sorry," I said. I couldn't apologize enough. I think I said it 100 times.

"It's okay, you didn't know," Ben said.

"Well, I did kind of have an idea," I said.

Then we both cracked up laughing. Ended on a good note. But still. How insulting was that, talking about skiing and not being Scandinavian?

I think I probably have overestimated how hard this is for me. It's probably much harder for other people. I'm probably being self-involved to the point of absurdity. All I really have to deal with is a lack of sun, mild heartbreak, and 5,000-foot alt.i.tude change. If I can't handle that, then I'm really pathetic. But then I knew that already, sort of.

Must make a bigger and better effort to get settled here. Must find groups to join. But then I think of that Groucho Marx line that Woody Allen quotes at the beginning of Annie Hall, Mom's favorite movie, about never wanting to belong to a club that would have me as a member. And what sort of club could I join, anyway?

9/6.

I realized the big benefit of my dumb work-study job today. Am I that dense that Annemarie had to point it out to me? Free long distance.

First I called Jane to invite her up for this weekend, next weekend, any weekend. She has a car and I don't, but then she lives in a cool place-Madison-and I don't, so who knows when we'll actually get together. Besides, she has a new boyfriend, someone in a band who is writing songs about her already. I want Jane's life.

Then I called Beth, but she was too busy at work to talk.

Then I called Grant, totally thinking he wouldn't be home, was just going to leave a message. But he was there! I was complaining about feeling so left out and Grant gave me some great advice.

"Courtney, look. If you're that unhappy, do something about it."

I felt my heart start to do this little dance. "You mean, I can drop out and come home?"

"No. I mean . . . look, you used to be all involved in school. Back at Bugling Elk," Grant said. "So do something like that. Cornwall Falls must have dozens of groups, right?"

"No," I said. "It doesn't have anything." Yeah, okay, so I sounded like a 5-year-old.

"Yes, it does," Grant said with a laugh. "You just said that you wanted to join a group. I want you to promise me that you'll check out a bunch of them." He said I can't keep not getting settled into the place; if I'm going to be here 4 years, I should work on changing the things that aren't working for me.

"Okay, so transfer, because what isn't working is you being there and me being here," I said. Then I told him all the things I really miss about him, and I was really getting kind of mushy about it, about how much I love being with him- And then all of a sudden I realized Dean Sobransky was standing right next to me. Listening to the whole thing.

I was so busted.

I got off the phone really quickly by saying something loud about how it was always nice to catch up with old cla.s.smates. Then I turned to Dean S. with a hopeful smile.

"Well, er, and how is it going, Courtney?" he asked. "Making contact with some alumni you know?"

"Yes," I said. But not as much contact as I'd like.

He said he often dropped by to check on us, since his office was just upstairs (we work in a large bas.e.m.e.nt room). He said he'd like to sit in on my next call, see if he could offer some helpful tips since I'm new at this. Nightmare!

I changed the subject and told him I wanted to get involved in some campus groups and could he tell me about some? He asked me what my interests were. The whole time I talked, he kept opening the file cabinet beside my desk, then closing it. Very weird guy. Has to have something near him in perpetual motion.

"We have the nature club, of course," he said. "And there's the faculty-student birding society."

"Well, I'm not necessarily interested in just watching nature. I'm more interested in saving it," I said. "Is there anything about, um, I don't know. Saving the cows?"

"Why do the cows need to be saved? Or, wait-do you mean in a religious sense?"

The guy in my neighboring cubicle wheeled over. "I've got a suggestion." His voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it at first. Probably I'd overheard him begging for donations, and since he actually got quite a few, maybe he talked more than most.

"Wittenauer. My favorite fund-raiser! What do you know?" Dean S. asked.

Wittenauer is the guy who pulls in huge donations seemingly without trying. He started talking about a group he's in to protest this hormone that is used campuswide. Dean S. looked very embarra.s.sed, then Wittenauer explained it wasn't a male or female or s.e.x hormone. It's something in the milk that's served in the cafeteria, student center, etc. He explained that he was talking about RBGH.

I couldn't believe it. "You mean the date rape drug? They put that in the milk here? What sort of place is this, what sort of society-" I was sputtering irately when Wittenauer put his hand on my arm and told me I was confusing RBGH with GHB.