|
august 3, 2000. So last night we - that is, my mom, myself & the Boy - went to an alumni-outreach-sponsored event for Toronto-area Acadia-bound frosh. (I think I just used up my hyphen allowance for the day!) It was sorta kinda okay. Alright, it mostly sucked. As we all know, I'm not terribly good with new situations. I tend to walk into a room full of strangers, feel threatened & get hostile. What can I say, I am and will always be a geek. If you pull away the sheltering geek rock from on top on me, I curl up into a little exoskeletal ball.
And these kids. Woah mama. I had to keep reminding myself of the way I was coming out of highschool: confident, happy, arrogant and scared as hell. I chose to believe that most of the kids were scared rather than jerks. But still, they were all fit & tanned, they all looked forward to inanities like frosh week, and they were all confident that a 2 bar town would be ample. At several points during the night, I felt a deep-seated urge to put on a dog collar & dance to Skinny Puppy. And that sorta stuff usually leaves me pretty cold when I'm actually in a club. I dunno. I guess I just feel threatened.
(This desire has manifested itself quite a bit this week. In highschool, Sarah H. used to be a goth, so when my ever-present car tape spooled along to Sisters of Mercy during Monday night's Operation Shoe, I expected bonding. Nope. That part of her life appears to be way over. And it made me wonder why I continue to think of the highschool goths as people who would like me if only they knew me now. Everything changes. Illusions are stripped away. Sarah mentioned that God In An Alcove (my goth highschool crush) was a bad kisser. I choose not to believe it.)
I had an insight this morning that confirmed my perception of hostility: these are all rich Toronto kids getting ready for the rural university experience. They're going to Acadia to get away from people like me. I still hold hopes that the native Nova Scotia population of the university will be more flexible & accepting of my deviant ways. At least I have the Boy - even if I fail to make a single friend, I still belong to a colony of 2. Well, 3 if you count the cat.
Still, it wasn't all bad. I met two very nice frosh girls, who are in English & Arts (I have to fight the urge to write "very nice little girls" because that's what they feel like to me). They were trading ideas about how to fit delicate garment soap and drying racks into their luggage. I just had to laugh. All of the upper years always get a good chuckle out of watching the frosh carry on like it's highschool for the first month, wearing makeup, doing laundry, tidying their room. It all fades, baby. As Agamemnon so succinctly put it in first year, by Thanksgiving they'll be going to morning class in sweatpants and a bra.
Ah, the sweet smelly days of Ferg. How I miss thee. I regret that I shall not be able to revisit thee, as all of my fellow frosh are 5 years younger than myself. Gah.
"Do you bring your dolls everywhere?" - an opening sally from last night, concerning the ever present Jayna and the slightly lesser-known Jacinda
~^^~^^~
Today hasn't been a good day so far. I was woken at quarter to 8 with the news that one of my mother's friends has died. She was an older lady who had discovered the cancer about 2 months ago. They did everything right, but she knew.
She was one of those ladies who never takes center stage. Who is uncomfortable with the spotlight, but at total ease with responsibility. My mother has been president of the UCW (United Church Women) for 2 years now, and she always said that she was this woman's willing puppet queen. You know. That kind of lady.
She was the kind of quietly competent woman that doesn't seem to exist anymore, that is dying out along with our World War II veterans. Her passing saddens me enormously.
|
