College Sex Diary Ch. 00

"No," I said simply. Even if I did explain the significance of the painting, there was no way she would understand.

I was worried that this would be the first major argument we would have and it was only our first day living together, but Samantha's cell phone rang and she ended up leaving the room to talk to one of her friends. To ease the remaining tension I felt, I wandered off in the hallway watching people move in. I saw a green-haired girl down the hall wearing a miniskirt with fishnets and combat boots, probably the only remotely "feminine" outfit I ever really wore in high school other than my medieval/fairy tale style prom dress. Before I could tell her to watch out, the ball rolled out from under her, causing her to fall backwards onto the floor and drop the box she was holding. I ran over to help her pick up her things when I noticed her cds. Some of them were from bands I had heard of, and others were refreshingly from bands I had never heard of.

"Hey, so you like Eve 6 too?" their self-titled cd was what got me through freshman year, not to mention that "Open Road Song" made me wish that my mom's car had a cd player so I could crank it up with the windows down as I drove down a back country road at top speed.

"Yeah, have you heard of the Subterranean Explosion?" she asked, gathering her other items and tossing them in the box.

"No? Do they sound like anyone I might know?" I was a bit worried when she started laughing at me since it had been awhile since I had been in the indie rock or punk scene.

"They're not a group, it's a concert they have here every year before school starts to hook the new kids on the local bands," she explained, "My sister told me it's a decent time for four bucks."

"Where is it? And where is it?" I asked. It was about time I got back into the game.

"It's actually tonight at The Rusted Nail," she said, handing me a flier, "It's a couple of blocks from here, so if you want to, we could walk there together."

"Sure, I'll knock on your door a little before 7:00, ok?" Hey, this making new friends thing wasn't as hard as I remembered.

"Ok, but from what I hear, there are a lot of shitty bands who open, just to warn you," she smiled as I opened her door to let her in with her box.

"By the way, I'm Frank, short for Francesca, but my dad always wanted a son, so he started calling me Frank," she said.

"I'm Genevieve. Sometimes people call me 'Jen,' but it gets confused with Jennifer too much, so I go by Vi," I said.

The phone rang in her room, so she had to go. I returned to my room feeling a lot better, and got a phone call from my friend Kat from high school, which was funny since I noticed that she just lived a couple of doors down from me. She said that she wanted to meet my roommate and that she wanted me to meet hers. So, we all agreed on eating dinner together.

That night, after I had gone out to dinner with my friend Kat from high school, her roommate, and my roommate to introduce each other, I got ready for the show. After a couple of years of getting beer spilled on me and getting stomped on at shows in local bars, I learned that dressing up wasn't exactly the best way to go. I went through some of my favorite t-shirts before learning that the more you like an article of clothing, the more it will be ruined at a show. I came home one night with a cigarette burn in my pleather pants and decided that I would stop trying to be cool and just go as I was in my grubbies. I changed one thing though, my shorts would probably guarantee a groping or little protection against another cigarette burn so I put on a pair of jeans.

Frank and I just talked about more bands and small town stuff on the way to the Rusted Nail. I loved the atmosphere of the place, the stale beer and cigarette smoke with a hint of weed in the air felt like home to me. The walls were painted in an abstract sort of way, which oddly reminded me of a car accident. Frank told me that to her, it looked like a smashed in television set that was still projecting images. I'm not a psychology major, so I couldn't really interpret what either of those meant, if there was any meaning to them.

True to her prediction, the first couple of bands sucked. The second one so much that people started booing. A chant got started to the effect of "You fucking suck!" It was straight and to the point, and effective after an empty bottle nearly clocked the lead singer in the head.

"Ok," the emcee cautiously approached the stage as the much reviled opening band left, "This next band has been dear to the hearts of this campus for a few years, so let's welcome Mom, You Never Understood Me! to the stage!"

I was shocked to hear everyone cheering. I expected some sort of emo or other incarnation of indie rock band to take the stage. I was somewhat right since they had the scruffy, yet boyishly charming appearance of most of the other bands I had seen before. Then the opening chords rang deafeningly through the amps and everyone started jumping around. Frank had gotten us up close to the front, so I felt the swell of the crowd, tossing me about like a wave on the sea. Their opening chorus was their namesake, repeating "Mom, you never understood me!" over and over again to a fever pitch, a bit lacking in creativity, but delightful nonetheless. There was something about a common 3-chord song that moves me as much as a Beethoven Sonata, especially in the throes of moving with and against the crowd.

I don't really remember the names or lyrics of their other songs, or any of the other bands that played, but it was an evening I wouldn't forget. The sweat, a lot of it probably not my own, the smoke, the heat of the moment: all of these things will stay with me as long as I remember what it's like to be young. It's great to be surrounded by people who will push you down but also help you back up before someone steps on you. Frank and I hung out a little more, she trying to get the lead singer of the second to last band, Ruptured Appendix to sign the ass of her pants with a sharpie, and me just wanting to live in the moment a bit longer.

I stumbled back into my dorm room around 3:00 a.m., nearly waking up my roommate. I ended up collapsing on the bed, blissful and not caring that I forgot to brush my teeth, change my clothes, or take out my contact lenses.

Today was a bit anticlimactic. It was yet another orientation, the same tour pointing out where the library is and the various historical points and urban legends about the campus like "Suicide Tower" where five people had taken the plunge into collegiate legend immortality and the haunted English building where someone had drowned in the pool that had been there when the building was once a dormitory. We sat in a huge auditorium listening to the Dean droning on about pride and such. I had lunch with Kat again and introduced her to Frank. She introduced me to a girl named Jean who lived in our same building. Samantha ran off with her friends and I didn't see much of her today. With any luck, we would see little of each other during the year. I don't have anything against her, but I have the strange thing that the differences between us might cause discord at some point.

So, I'm a bit tired now...thus ends the entry?

August 30

I had my first day of class three days ago. I guess I couldn't expect to just hang around with my friends forever, right? Still, things went much better than I had expected. My Latin teacher was a bit impressed with me, and some members of the class have already labeled me as "the overachiever." I guess that's one high school trinket I wouldn't mind taking with me here. We're reading some things in my English class that are impressive since I had never heard of some of the authors. I had heard of Pablo Neruda, but I hadn't read anything by him until that class. It made me wish that I had taken Spanish so I could read the original words. Still, I like Latin since it's nice to know that you're the future of what is considered to be a "dead" language.

I hung out with Kat, Frank, and Jean a bit more. My friend Max from high school had gotten me into anime my junior year, and I learned that there was an anime club on campus, so I decided to check it out. I was used to reading subtitles from watching French films (my favorite of all time: "The City of Lost Children"), so it wasn't hard to adjust to the subbing on the newer shows. I liked one of the sampler shows despite the fact that it had giant fighting robots, something I consider to be a cliche when it comes to anime. It was clever, much moreso than most cartoons in the States. I was a bit afraid that my new friends wouldn't be into it, but I was glad to find out that they were either into anime before, or they were pleasantly surprised at how different it was from Pokemon or the other crap they show on television.

While I was walking through campustown, a woodcut sign caught my attention along with the smell of tobacco, good tobacco. It reminded me of the good cigars my dad used to smoke on special occasions. I admit, I had smoked cigarettes in high school, but quit briefly afterward due to how awful it was. I was curious about cigars though, so I went into the shop. A pleasant old man stood behind the counter helping another college student pick out some pipe tobacco. When he was finished, the old man walked toward me and asked what I would like. I wasn't sure, but I asked if he had something mild. He had some flavored cigarillos, so I picked a tin of vanilla flavored ones. I love local businesses, so it made me feel good to buy something from a nice old man in his shop.

As I was walking home, I realized that I didn't have anything to light them with, so I ended up buying a 99 cent lighter at a convenience store. I remembered that cigar smoking was different from cigarettes since people didn't usually suck the smoke all the way down into their lungs since they were unfiltered. I took a slow drag, it was a warm pleasant feeling and the hint of vanilla was nice too. It was hot outside, but I didn't care. Some people stared at me as I walked back to the dorm, but I didn't care. I know smoking is bad for you and the environment and everyone else around you, but it wasn't like I was lighting up in my room with my roommate there to suck up the second hand smoke.

I passed by a building with a playground next to it. There were small children playing on the slides and swings behind a fence. I was delighted by how innocent they were and how much fun they were having. There were a few kids in the sandbox, and to my surprise, what appeared to be a college student, crouched down helping them build sand castles with buckets. When he stood up, I gave him the natural once-over with my eyes safely hidden behind my sunglasses. He was fairly tall, with short, gelled black hair, tan skin. He wore glasses and khakis with a t-shirt which said "Child Development Research Center" on it. At first glance, he could easily pass for white, but I knew that he was at least part East Asian, I just didn't know which country. I felt a bit sheepish staring at him, but he was rather cute...until he opened his mouth.

"Hey, would you mind doing that somewhere else?" he asked, looking at my cigar, "I don't want to have to give these kids the anti-smoking speech just yet."

"I'm sorry, but the last time I checked, this was a free country," I would have added "asshole" to the end of that, but I remembered that there were little kids around. Nothing pisses me off more than when someone tells me what to do.

"I realize that, but the kids here should have the right to breathe clean air," he said, "Either put it out, or move on."

The 16-year-old in me wanted to flip him the bird and perhaps hit him with my bookbag. The 18-year-old didn't give a fuck about him at all and figured that he wouldn't be worth disciplinary action or potential expulsion and jail time.

"Fine," I said and walked away. What a prick.

I wasn't going to let him ruin my day, so I continued my walk and put out the butt before tossing it in a garbage can. Still, my head muttered thoughts like "the nerve of that guy" and "who does he think he is?" Eh, I got back to my dorm without any other incident and told my friends about what had happened, the nice old man in the cigar store to the asshole at the playground. They sided with me, despite admitting that he had a point. Sure, he had a point, but it didn't mean that he had the right to be a dick about it.

So anyway, that was my first real encounter (other than the violent orgy of the rock show) with the male population of this campus. I hope that the next one goes better than this one did...but as my mom would tell me, I'm here to learn, not to date or fool around. But then I'd think to myself, "Yeah, that's what high school was for...fooling around." I could fool around here too, I guess. Mom doesn't need to know everything.