there is no chicken in life
2001-09-02 - 11:21 a.m.
Tip#12: To steal a car. Sit on a newspaper dispenser and wait. People in cars gotta park somewhere, and don�t want to take the extra effort to turn their car off if their only gonna be on the street for a second. Lock the doors first thing.
College: Day8. Woke up a little late (9 post midnight or ante meridian) and knocked on Rich�s door. We had plans for going to Boston because he needed a tattoo and a guitar amp, and I was headed to Wellesley, so I figured I�d ride out with him. It was a waste of three dollars, but I�m getting to that part. We missed the first transport to get to Newton Centre, so we decided to use the extra time to get breakfast. And when we got to Newbury, we couldn�t find a good tattoo place, so Rich and I just jumped on our separate T trains. It was a waste of three dollars. Took the outboud T to Riverside, and asked how much a cab would cost from there. And after wasting three dollars, I had no intention of losing another fifteen; so I did what any Jason would do in a don�t-want-to-take-a-cab-situation-and-don�t-know-where-I-am,but-hey-this-might-be-fun situation. I walked. As a prepetory measure, I hoped a fence into a Holiday Inn, went through the parkinglot door, pretended to be a customer, and got a photocopy of a general map from the desk attendant. Then I jumped another fence into a golf court, and dodged projectiles until I could jump the fence on the other side. This put me in Newton-Wellesly, and it was then that I realized I had no idea what part of Wellesley Amanda�s college is in. The nearby gas station being closed, I sat in the middle of the outgoing road of the Newton-Wellesley hospital, stopping and asking anyone who wasn�t trying to run me over. On my second car, the lady didn�t roll down her window, so I opened the door a crack. She went sorta pale and asked me to close the door. At first, this confuzzled me, but you gotta figure it is Massachusetts, and people just get overly paranoid about some things. She rolled down her window a crack, and seemed a little relieved when I told her where I was headed (as if college kids are any less dangerous). A couple cars later, I got the information I needed, and started the long part of the journey. I walked down the exits and the islands of I-95, with cars passing each other on the right as well as left. Passed an �illiterate�/symbol sign claiming that pedestrians, dogs, and something-which-I�ve-forgotten were not permitted on the highway. I laughed then, and chuckled to myself for a while after...and then the cop drove up, and I thought I was gonna be in hysterics (the funny kinda hysterics, not the afeared kind). He tells me to walk on the other side of the rail, if at all possible...and I ask him, if he�s not to busy, can he give me a ride? �Course he can. I went through the process of proudly displaying my school ID once again, and got into the back seat of the car. Put my seatbealt on, because police-people always respect a person more if they�re looking out for someone�s safety even if it�s only their own. The police radio informed us that two cars were racing each other on the highway, that a high-level security prison had lost a dangerous felon-mellon, and somebody needed something put in their mailbox ASAP. My personal taxi service was going to drop me off at the 135 junction, but we were in the middle of a pretty good conversation, and there was good music on the radio, so he dropped me off at the college itself. I noticed a difference in this Massachusetts cop car...the back doors, even if unlocked, cannot be opened from the inside. In the cop cars of Maine I�ve been in, they don�t have the utterly useless lock on the inside of the back doors. When I got to Wellesley, I went to the housing administration (it being their first day of school) and looked up Amanda�s room name in the book that they were using to check off room keys. Her room is located in a little secret passageway that�s sorta hard to find, but once I got there, she wasn�t around anyways. So I walked around the campus fer a bit, chased a squirrel, jumped a cat, and generally looked at everything I saw (it being an all-girl college). When we did meet up, we watched little blue and brown fishies in the goosepoo pond, and there was much hugginess. It was really nice to see Amada-girl again...but I couldn�t help but notice the similarities between her and her roommate as they decided what todo with the furniture (even though she would prubly beat me fer saying so.) She�s got her own life now, and she�s just one more person that can�t fit a Jason into that life. It�s sad, that everyone else has to grow up. Not all of us can be Peter Pan and �Twink�, soaring in Never-never Land for eternity. Amanda-girl didn�t want me to spend the night, which I�m sure is understandable...said she was tired, and maybe she was. So she walked me down to the commuter rail and I left Wellesley at 9pm. When I got to Auburndale, I asked for directions for the nearest T, and paid to take that back inward to Newton Centre. Getting on the train, a 21-year-old couple started asking me some things about the T, and said they were going clubbing in Boston. This is why I love the T. It forces people to stand close to each other, and everyone wonders if they should give up their seat to someone else who might be more prone to gravity. People talk, and don�t need to know each other�s names, because they�ll most likely not happen on each other again. Anonymous, instant relationships about The Big Dig, and the Red Sox, sexual orientations and philosophies on what
Just the same, I was sorta sorry to know that I wouldn�t see seeing this couple again, because they were so interesting...My mortuary law instructor said that you see the worst and the best of people in the funeral business; but I think it applies much better to the T. I stayed on for longer than I should have, and missed my stop a ways back to talk to them longer, but I knew it was useless and in the end I was really glad the outbound train is free. I retraced my route and got back to Newton Centre at 10:42pm according to the Starbucks clock in the window. The Mount Ida College transport wasn�t due for 48 minutes, so I hung around in an ice cream shop until it closed (mint chocolate chip) and then sat on the newspaper dispensers and took in the life story of a friendly half-toothless bum who had made the T station his home. The transport arrived about ten minutes late, and it turns out that Rich was on it, with a couple girls. This is where I meet Nicole.
Related Sidenote: It seems to me that with all the minor discrepancies in time-space during the day, that there are some days which begin before the previous day really ends. Likewise, there are days that stretch on for two or three days at a time, and you can never be sure if the sun is actually rising and setting, or if it�s just playing pinball in the sky. That said, I�ll consider the events of this morning as part of College: Day8.
College: Day9 (but really interior to the jurisdiction of Day8, by the clocks of the world). She lives in Malloy, the same dorm as me. Same floor too...which doesn�t really surprise me, because I don�t even know all the people in my suite yet. We talked and chatted and talked...American pie was playing ing the background. Definitely, one of the more interesting people I�ve met. We took a walk to get out into the fresh air, even though the windows were fully open and her fan was on (her roommate was screwing around with a couple football players). She�s curios. She�s at least partly spontaneous. And if something that she wants doesn�t exist (like a school activity), she�ll actually spend the effort to take the initiative to make it happen. I�m sure there were lots of funny things said, because I was smiling the whole time. I made an attempt to impress her by fixing her network card and getting her machine on the internet. I guess it worked, because she got all superhappy and jumpity. When she said that she only had 18 credit hours of classes because they wouldn�t let her take any more, I could�ve kissed her. But I didn�t. And I didn�t cuddle up with her and spend the night in her room. I got back to my room at 4:30, and didn�t even give her a goodnight hug. And it�s all very strange.
Sometimes, I fee� sick. Like an aborted baby that knows death is the best prescription for its life, but still wants to hold on to what it has.
Today was planned to be spent in the weight room and in other people�s dorms, fixing pooters. Instead, I ended up walking down VFW Parkway, on a magic goose chase for a laundry mat. Almost started a car accident because some old guy was amazed by the idea that I was wearing two floppy disks on my necklace. He slowed down to watch the 1:30 show (I got up really late, �bout 10am), and the people behind him screeched and honked and made other noises besides. He still couldn�t help but stare as he creped by (prubly didn�t go to the zoo very much as a kid). I stopped at a gas station and bought a map as soon as it became apparent to me that I wasn�t in Newton anymore. Someone from Mt. Ida that I don�t know recognized me on my way back, and talked to me while they were waiting for the light to change. �Hey man, where you goin�?, back to the school?� �Yepp.� �Where you be commin� from?� �Umm, the school...� �Really? Daaamn, you gots long legs.� After much consideration, I agreed with myself that it was more of a comment on my mental status then the actual size of my legs (which she could obviously see, and she must have noticed that I only stand a few inches taller than her). In conclusion, I have managed to amaze people by walking and...walking...and at the same time, nonetheless. I got back at about 5pm, to eat supper, and it was the first thing I�ve eaten since yesterday�s breakfast. Eating just...slipped my mind, I guess. Stopped by Jesse�s room for lack of anything better todo, and ended up having a pretty good time. Eventually beat people at Techen4 Play Station (�cept Jesse) and watched a really long-named movie. Ordered out Chinese which I accidentally left in Jesse�s room, but will prubly eat tomorrow fer breakfast. These entries are getting sort-of run-of-the-bakery, so I�m gonna return to normal-style entries. Not that you would have noticed.
I�m having a really hard time resisting the urge to give people the address of my website (alientofu.5u.com) because it has a link to this diary, and I really don�t want to pull a lucy and give it to people that I won�t want to read it later. I figure that my English teachers are a pretty safe bet, towards the end of the year. That way, if I write something really good in here, they can tell me, and I can feel all good about myself. And no, that hasn�t happened yet.
Sir#1: Let us presume, dear Sir, that a square has two sides. The two sides shall be called A and B, and will be connected by simple lines which we will call the mediators. In this way, we create a �binary� square; and the chicken (a point) can only exist on one side of the square or the other.
Sir#2: Nay, I say there would be four sides, Sir. For if the square was turned on its side, the sides would then be C and D, and the former sides A and B would be the mediating lines. The square is still binary, but it depends upon the orientation of the square as to where the chicken exists.
Sir#1: Quite. But following that logic of orientation, the front and the back of the square might as well be counted as sides E and F, as I could draw a square on two sides of a paper, and neither side is the same as the other...so there are six sides to a single square.
Sir#2: But then, each way of looking at the square comes from a different point of view that is to say a different side...and so we have only mentioned three sides, in that we have only mentioned three �sides� from which a square can be observed to have a definite number of sides.
Sir#1: What is needed I think, is an aside on the definition of a side. Let us call a side anything which settles on the perceived line or edge of a graphic in 2D-land.
Sir#2: Wel, then, using that definition, let us presume that each pair of sides within a side of thought counts as two separate sides, and we return to a six-sided square...
Sir#1: Case in chicken. But in thinking outside the square, shouldn�t one differentiate between the inside and outside of a 2D object as well, as a circle would have a mere two sides from its only edge?
Sir#2: I would have to agree. But the inside side of the square and the backside side of the square are the same when considering an object of theoretically non-existing thickness. Seven sides.
Sir#1: Isee. And supplementrariwise, the inside side of the square would be the same as the front/back side. Six sides.
Sir#2: These definitions have led us to the exact boundaries of any side for a regular graphic, for diagonals can be drawn from the verticies of the graphic to reveal the borders of the jurisdiction for each edge. A chicken located in the exact centre, of course, is �without edge� or not near to any edge.
Sir#1: But such reasoning would all be defenestrated in the light of infinity. If we are to say that all squares have the same definite number of sides, we must consider a square with sides of infinite length. A square with no edges only has the inside/front/back side, as any 2D shape with infinite sides would. Any non-imaginary chicken must exist within the boundaries of infinity. So if our statement is to encompass all squares, we must say that there can be only one side.
Sir#2: If such a thing were to be true, then a cube would only have an inside side, instead of six planar (area in-between the sides of the square) sides or twelve edge-sides...and if all objects were to have one side, what is the chicken to the very use of the word �side�?
