Wednesday, August 25, 2004

A Bologna Story

I have been thinking a lot lately about what the hell to do with my life, but especially about getting a Master's in Philosophy. Taking Philosophy classes throughout college (it was my major), I felt like my mind was constantly engaged, expanding, growing, I could just feel it understand the world so much better each day, and it was truly fulfilling to have all of those years of thinking. What I learned from those classes enabled me to understand so many other subject areas- history, math, art, literature, politics, law, science. Unfortunately there really isn't anything I can do with the degree besides accumulate loans, but at the same time I know it would make me a better and more fulfilled person. And I would enjoy being immersed in that world, writing, researching, teaching a class or two. I always looked up to my grandpa- he taught Philosophy, Physics and Math at Brown and RISD back in the day. I remember being in 4th grade when he lived with us and he told my mom he thought "I had it". The notion that I "had it" to this day has been one comment that has made me happier than anything. The man was a genious as far as IQ tests n stuff were concerned- went to Columbia when he was 15. I wanted to have what he had more than anything.

Well I got NYU, New School and Columbia to send me an application. Rutgers actually has an amazing program too- and they are really affordable- but I'd rather pay out my ass than not live in NYC. And I was thinking about my fellow philosophy majors and classmates at GW. God did I love em. I almost never hung out with most of them outside of class, but some people just had amazing ideas, I loved hearing them and spitting out my ideas and hearing them criticized. And there were some cute ones, but I almost liked them so much I never wanted them to know I thought they were cute. I guess I do that sometimes- I'd rather be a friend with a guy I am attracted to then find out they might not be interested in me- that's pretty wussy, huh?
But there was this one guy who I had liked in class. He looked like a cross between Alec Baldwin and David Schwimmer, dark hair, bright blue eyes, scruffy face- and he had a fascinating mind.

And one night we were out at a bar- I think it was "Froggy Bottom" for the DC people out there. I think I wasn't even 21 at the time- a Sophomore, and he was a Senior. And this is a pitchers of beer and pool tables kind of place. He saw me there, and I hadn't usually seen him outside of class so I guess we were very talkative. We were just talking and drinking all night. At the end of the night I went to leave, a friend of mine was going to meet me at my apartment because she wanted to sleep there or something like that. And then the guy followed me out and asked if he could walk me home. I said to him "I guess so, but just a walk, that's it" As far as I remember he was coming on really strong, and cute as he was, usually if I actually like a guy I won't let a hook-up happen until later on- at least days later. . . He was like- fine I just want to talk with you more.

Then we walked back to my place to the front door, we sat and talked a bit more and then I said goodnight and went into the building. Then I got a knock on my door. I opened and thought it was my friend from down the hall but it wasn't. It was him. I was like- how did you get here? He was like- oh I followed someone in, and I said- how did you find my room? And this is a dorm (co-ed) and he said that he saw that I had signed someone in and my room number was there. Ah really- well then my friend you are fucking nuts! I thought. And so I said what do you want? And he said- to kiss you- and I said- you're crazy, go home. And then he ran into my apartment and threw himself on my bed. I was just looking at him across the room- like oh my god, whatever chance in hell I was interested in this guy has just entirely disappeared. He was all "kiss me, come over here, come on" and I said no, I won't kiss you blah blah blah, and this guy wasn't leaving after a while, and then a stroke of genious came into my mind. I offered him something else.

I said, "I will not kiss you, but I can offer you a bologna sandwhich and a glass of milk."

And he asked, "Do you have cheese."

I said "Yes, and if I give it to you, you can eat it but then you have to leave."

I made him this sandwhich, with mayo on white bread, and gave him the milk. He ate it, I told him to get out (in a stern way, yet smiling, entertained by it all), and he left. It was in fact the first and only time that I used the bologna sandwhich defence tactic, but it was highly effective, for reasons that I cannot explain and have yet to understand. But after thinking about this story I went and got myself a bologna sandwhich for breakfast. It's nice.

Yummy yummy (and powerful) sandwich.

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