My Unusual Week

So there I was. In my academic advisor’s office. Topless.  It’s a long story.

The next thing I knew, I was taking part in a matriculation ceremony (yeah – “matriculation” – I had to look it up, but now that I know it, I’m gonna throw it around like a know-it-all University student). The President welcomed the class of 2013, then took a moment to look in the direction of the transfer students and added: “And of course, some of you may be graduating even sooner…”  I wanted to raise my hand and point out that some of us might be graduating even later, but it was my first matriculation ceremony and I just wanted to get to the part where they served ice cream.

My advisor asked if I was excited about my major, and I wanted to point out that I should’ve been an astronomy major with a minor in film (does such an academic path even exist?), but that a bizarre cult(ure) got in the way decades ago.

Speaking of that culture…

My sister-in-law shunned me and my wife and son during a chance encounter at the Apple Computer store.  She found herself staring eye-to-eye with my wife (her own sister), then grabbed her husband and bolted out of the store like there was an H1N1 virus in there. ‘Cause, you know, there’s nothing scarier than an ex-Witness getting his laptop fixed.

Then we went to Cedar Lake Speedway to watch the sprintcars and mullet-hunt. The races began with an invocation – I kid you not: a freakin’ invocation – in which Pastor Redneck apologized to god on behalf of our nation since we weren’t “headed the right way”. (How does he know god’s thoughts on the USA? In my world that’s called delusional.) He noted that we were founded as a Christian nation, and, therefore, needed to return to being a Christian nation. I guess having a Christian President, Christian VP, Christian Supreme Court and (nearly) Christian Congress isn’t Christian enough for him. Of course, our nation was also founded on principles of owning black people and disenfranchising women, but maybe he’ll mention that at next week’s invocation. He then went on tell god that we planned to get the ten commandments back in public buildings and prayer back in school. (Since one of the commandments concerns the Sabbath, what were all those rednecks doing at a race so close to sundown on Saturday?) Amen.

I took my son to play in the sandbox at the races. My brother-in-law (who wasn’t above using his Dad’s discount, but would be damned if he was going to sit by us) brought his daughter over, but after making eye contact with me, they split. ‘Cause, you know, there’s nothing scarier than an ex-Witness funelling sand into a toy wheelbarrow with his son.

I got to see my mom’s new place of residence for the first time. It’s a pretty awesome house, really. She’s lived there three months and I finally scored an invite. Of course, my stepdad (whom I’ve met once) was not there. He was, conveniently, away on business. ‘Cause, you know, there’s nothing scarier than an ex-Witness eating spaghetti in your living room.

We went canoeing on Lake Snelling. I want to canoe on a river, instead.

I am through with my guitar classes. I leave the class the same way I entered it: still the worst guiatar player I know (but, as one friend helpfully pointed out, a whole lot better than anyone who’s never bothered to pick up a guitar).

I spent two-and-a-half years at Century College, during which time I dropped out of exactly one class. I’ve spent one week at Hamline, during which time I’ve dropped out of exactly two classes. In discussing my decision regarding the second of those classes with my advisor, I found the ensuing 10 minute conversation to be more fascinating than the class in question.

Sometimes, people say they have no regrets. Today, on the way to work, I heard the song “The City of New Orleans,” by Arlo Guthrie. I used to have the song memorized, as I danced to it with my infant son every night trying to get him to sleep. I was saddened to discover I had forgotten most of the words in the three years since. I really find it grating that my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and stepdad all think their best friend is going to kill my son very very soon and that they are therefore justified in exhibiting unconscionable behavior. I am discovering that there are limits to how hard a person can bite one’s own tongue. When people say they have no regrets I am convinced that they are either supremely forgetful, lying, or have led exceptionally privileged lives.

Sorry for the introspection.