It's funny when these things hit you. You get into bed and think it'll be a simple matter of closing your eyes and being in your serene moment. The moments you remember that calm you, and lift you away from everyday life. Some nights are that easy I guess. I like to think of various bike trails I've been on. The moments inbetween having to fight the wind and endure crappy roads - the perfect moments when it's just me and my bike, and every effort has a direct translation to the distance I travel. Moments when I don't feel the weight of my bike or the rattle of my chain..the speedometer says 22...23...24...
Then there are other nights when your mind is racing. The nights when you can't shut yourself up. Tonight I was thinking about Stanford. I'm sure a lot of you know my love/hate relationship with Stanford. For the record, I'm glad I'm not there. I probably would be a worse person than I am today (if it were possible). I'd probably have destroyed myself in one way or another (moreso than already). I don't think a lot of people understand that. I sense it comes from straddling the line between elitists and plebeians. A sort of excellent mediocrity. I don't know what the hell I mean so don't ask me; frankly in the short and long term, I couldn't give a fuck.
But I can't deny the allure that was there. And tonight the memories of Stanford as I remember it poured in through the cracks of my consciousness. I remember walking barefoot into the dining hall for the first time with my brother's card in hand. I remember that lady's toothy smile. I remember dishes and plates littering the halls of the dorms. I remember Garry's roommates, and the shock of having walked in on my brother making out with his girlfriend (shit, I was kid, cmon - I still believed in cooties). I remember how cool everything looked, how big it all seemed.
I remember going to the library and watching Blade Runner for the first time. Yes, going to the library to watch a movie. I remember walking through the massive stacks of shelves, the large halls.
I'll still never know if it was real or not, but I remember holding a gun for the first time and asking my brother's friend if it was real or not. Then them just laughing and taking it away.
I remember the Phi Kappa Psi house and how cramped it all was - and yet how it all seemed to just fit. The giant buffet style dinner they had that night. I even remember the chef, and the giant kitchen, and the Xbox that I played well into the night while Garry was at a lab. Yes, it was Halo.
I think to my time here at Davis, and I wonder why the memories aren't as fond as the ones I have with my brother at Stanford were. If it was somehow, something Stanford offered that Davis didn't. Or was it age? Does being older somehow inherently change our impressions? Is it circumstance? From having moved so quickly from the dorms to my own apartment? From working? From having a barrage of obligations? Maybe it's everything, maybe it's something else. I wish I could ask you for your description of college. But it's inherently different from mine, and I will never understand yours.
Anyways, this post has run it's course, and accomplished it's goal. I'm am now sufficiently tired to sleep. Usually what happens is I read over this piece of shit, deem it a pile of shit, and delete it. But, I guess it'd be a shame to waste the memories.
