Chapter Four - Life in a Parallel Universe
Six weeks into the semester, eight weeks into college, the roommate thing started to become a problem. It wasn't that either of us was a bad person; it was just that we were very different. Perhaps I should be more specific.
Around about age fourteen, I'd decided that wearing clothing thats chief feature is the brand name emblazoned upon it was something I didn't want to be a part of. My logic was that it was the opposite of how capitalism was supposed to work. Companies spend money advertising, trying to get people to buy their product. In the case of >insert popular clothing company here<, people are paying the company for the priviledge of advertising the product. My initial response was to wear clothing--shirts in particular--that bore no writing whatsoever. That got boring pretty fast, and was replaced with the sarcastic T-shirts worn by bored teenagers across the country. When it came to dressing up, it would take a wedding, funeral, or church to get me into a suit (That's right; if you're not getting married, dying, or God, don't expect me to dress up). William, on the other hand, was a slave to fashion. This is one thing that's puzzled me. Most people I know who love fashion are somewhat lacking in self esteem; fashion is a crutch where they can feel superior and get an ego boost. Not true with William; he had one of the most forceful personalities I've ever known. Every piece of clothing he owned (that I saw, at least), was either black or blue.
The things that bugged me were his religious convictions, or rather, lack thereof. I'm just going to get this whole religion thing out into the open right away. I was born to a Lutheran mother and a Ukrainian Catholic father, neither of whom had been to church in years. For the sake of family harmony, I was baptised Catholic. With the exception of a few Easter Sundays and funerals, I never saw the inside of a church until age twelve. Around about that time, I was starting to wonder about God. My brother--six years old at the time--didn't like the idea of going to church every week, but I was willing to try. I'm not going to get into detail, because I know it would alienate a lot of people, but I found God at some point in the Lutheran church. That said, I've got my feet planted firmly enough in reality to remember that lecturing people about how their religion is wrong and yours is right isn't a very effective tactic in converting them. Having gone to a public school, I was put in contact with plenty of people from other religions. Agnostics, Jews, Buddhists, and Atheists were all in my circle of friends, and I knew a couple of Hindus, as well. When you've got a lot in common, even a difference that big between friends is easily overlooked. William's belief system...the only word I can think of it is "antagonistic." My Atheist friends attitudes had been "Look, religion's not my thing. I don't believe in it." William had a mindset more akin to, "Religion's not my thing. I don't believe in it, and neither should you."
One night, we had some people over and were playing Taboo. I don't even recall why it came up, but someone mentioned Jesus. After the round was over, William felt the need to slide in the comment, "Christianity's just a bunch of half-truths anyway."
I don't get mad about a lot of things, but someone spitting at my religion is one of them.
"What did you say?" I asked. He didn't respond. "What the fuck did you just say, William?"
Rather than answer, he gave me a piercing glare. The others looked at me, confused.
"What's going on?" said Ashley, a girl from the next floor.
"Mark's being a jerk, that's all." said William, trying to dismiss me. I've mentioned William's personality being strong; he was used to issuing a statement and having it stick.
Unlucky for him, I'm the adversarial type. "No, William's being an ass, and doesn't care to admit it."
"You know what, who cares? Now come on, let's get to the next round." he said.
At the time, the others knew William better than they knew me; I hated to drop it, but realized I couldn't afford to take him on right then.
There was something else I noticed about William and I. Throughout high school, I was never part of the popular crowd. I don't drink and didn't get my drivers license until after I graduated (it's long story). But I'll tell you something else. My friends and I may not have been popular, but we were happy. I remember one day when one of "cool" kids got suspended for coming to school drunk. I remember hearing the rumors about one of the cheerleaders being on her second abortion. Not us. Sure, we didn't have any great stories to tell, like getting roaring drunk and going streaking in front of the CVS at midnight, but we were happy most of the time. The cool kids had fun, too, (or so I was lead to believe). But the ones who always suffered were the ones who wanted to be cool, but weren't. I had a few friends that were like that; painfully self-conscious with a side order of self-loathing. They couldn't even enjoy the geeky stuff we'd do together. William reminded me of those people. He slaved to make the scene, and seemed to be very unsure of his own standings at any given point. I knew my standings: somewhere near the bottom of the hierarchy, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
It was interesting how the two of us meshed. We had the same friends inside the hall, but otherwise nothing in common. It was like we lived in parallel universes that only overlapped inside Ravine Hall.
Early in the year, I found myself hating William. This is something I regret; he hadn't done anything to deserve my ire. The most telling sign of the inappropriate nature of my dislike was the way it vanished; I stopped to think about why I hated him, and came up empty. Having extreme dislike drain away is an odd feeling. By the time of Fall Break, I had decided to give befriending him another try.
Originally posted on December 11th, 2004
For some reason, this particular post loses it's line breaks whenever it's edited. I'm not sure why this happens, but bear with me if it appears to be lacking paragraph structure, since it's probably not my fault.
Around about age fourteen, I'd decided that wearing clothing thats chief feature is the brand name emblazoned upon it was something I didn't want to be a part of. My logic was that it was the opposite of how capitalism was supposed to work. Companies spend money advertising, trying to get people to buy their product. In the case of >insert popular clothing company here<, people are paying the company for the priviledge of advertising the product. My initial response was to wear clothing--shirts in particular--that bore no writing whatsoever. That got boring pretty fast, and was replaced with the sarcastic T-shirts worn by bored teenagers across the country. When it came to dressing up, it would take a wedding, funeral, or church to get me into a suit (That's right; if you're not getting married, dying, or God, don't expect me to dress up). William, on the other hand, was a slave to fashion. This is one thing that's puzzled me. Most people I know who love fashion are somewhat lacking in self esteem; fashion is a crutch where they can feel superior and get an ego boost. Not true with William; he had one of the most forceful personalities I've ever known. Every piece of clothing he owned (that I saw, at least), was either black or blue.
The things that bugged me were his religious convictions, or rather, lack thereof. I'm just going to get this whole religion thing out into the open right away. I was born to a Lutheran mother and a Ukrainian Catholic father, neither of whom had been to church in years. For the sake of family harmony, I was baptised Catholic. With the exception of a few Easter Sundays and funerals, I never saw the inside of a church until age twelve. Around about that time, I was starting to wonder about God. My brother--six years old at the time--didn't like the idea of going to church every week, but I was willing to try. I'm not going to get into detail, because I know it would alienate a lot of people, but I found God at some point in the Lutheran church. That said, I've got my feet planted firmly enough in reality to remember that lecturing people about how their religion is wrong and yours is right isn't a very effective tactic in converting them. Having gone to a public school, I was put in contact with plenty of people from other religions. Agnostics, Jews, Buddhists, and Atheists were all in my circle of friends, and I knew a couple of Hindus, as well. When you've got a lot in common, even a difference that big between friends is easily overlooked. William's belief system...the only word I can think of it is "antagonistic." My Atheist friends attitudes had been "Look, religion's not my thing. I don't believe in it." William had a mindset more akin to, "Religion's not my thing. I don't believe in it, and neither should you."
One night, we had some people over and were playing Taboo. I don't even recall why it came up, but someone mentioned Jesus. After the round was over, William felt the need to slide in the comment, "Christianity's just a bunch of half-truths anyway."
I don't get mad about a lot of things, but someone spitting at my religion is one of them.
"What did you say?" I asked. He didn't respond. "What the fuck did you just say, William?"
Rather than answer, he gave me a piercing glare. The others looked at me, confused.
"What's going on?" said Ashley, a girl from the next floor.
"Mark's being a jerk, that's all." said William, trying to dismiss me. I've mentioned William's personality being strong; he was used to issuing a statement and having it stick.
Unlucky for him, I'm the adversarial type. "No, William's being an ass, and doesn't care to admit it."
"You know what, who cares? Now come on, let's get to the next round." he said.
At the time, the others knew William better than they knew me; I hated to drop it, but realized I couldn't afford to take him on right then.
There was something else I noticed about William and I. Throughout high school, I was never part of the popular crowd. I don't drink and didn't get my drivers license until after I graduated (it's long story). But I'll tell you something else. My friends and I may not have been popular, but we were happy. I remember one day when one of "cool" kids got suspended for coming to school drunk. I remember hearing the rumors about one of the cheerleaders being on her second abortion. Not us. Sure, we didn't have any great stories to tell, like getting roaring drunk and going streaking in front of the CVS at midnight, but we were happy most of the time. The cool kids had fun, too, (or so I was lead to believe). But the ones who always suffered were the ones who wanted to be cool, but weren't. I had a few friends that were like that; painfully self-conscious with a side order of self-loathing. They couldn't even enjoy the geeky stuff we'd do together. William reminded me of those people. He slaved to make the scene, and seemed to be very unsure of his own standings at any given point. I knew my standings: somewhere near the bottom of the hierarchy, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
It was interesting how the two of us meshed. We had the same friends inside the hall, but otherwise nothing in common. It was like we lived in parallel universes that only overlapped inside Ravine Hall.
Early in the year, I found myself hating William. This is something I regret; he hadn't done anything to deserve my ire. The most telling sign of the inappropriate nature of my dislike was the way it vanished; I stopped to think about why I hated him, and came up empty. Having extreme dislike drain away is an odd feeling. By the time of Fall Break, I had decided to give befriending him another try.
Originally posted on December 11th, 2004
For some reason, this particular post loses it's line breaks whenever it's edited. I'm not sure why this happens, but bear with me if it appears to be lacking paragraph structure, since it's probably not my fault.
posted by Andrew Michael at 7:53 PM
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