Day07 == It's today today!

Hey, today is Christmas day, so I bet everyone else is doing something different than I am. I went to bed at 4 a.m. EST, midnight here, which means I was cognizant of the first few seconds of Christmas before falling asleep. They didn’t seem much different than any other seconds. I guess that says something about my growing up, which at this point probably doesn’t need to be said, if I’m already all on my own two thousand miles from home. So I’ll let that go.

I haven’t updated this site much in the last few days because I was sick and didn’t do anything, but here’s a brief re-cap of some interesting things that happened:

Two days ago, when I was at my sickest (ex: ) I was lying in bed and heard someone yelling. It took me at least 30 seconds to realize that the sound was coming through the open window, and so I grabbed my camera and caught footage of a crazy fat person walking down the street with their dog. This video only captures the last little bit of their ranting, but trust me, this person (I still can’t determine gender) was hollering like Sam Kinnison, mostly about the Anchorage police department. I apologize if there are discernible vulgarities in the video; persons under 16 years of innocence should refrain from viewing:

Then yesterday, the first day that I was feeling better at all, I walked to Title Wave Books and sat on a cushion on the floor in the back and tried to start writing my grad school personal statement. Along the way, I had a beautiful(ly American) moment (the end of the video gets cut off by my finicky camera, but imagine the sappiest thing you can and then imagine it in my voice):

and then, due to the store’s closing early, I was forced to go to recognize the likelihood that, if I didn’t buy groceries finally, I would have nothing to eat today, when most stores are closed. So I went to CARRS, which, as referenced before, is like a cross between Wal-Mart (in size) and a traditional grocery store (in content). In the process of buying the most delicious squirrel-sponsored peanut butter “flavored” cereal in all of Greater South-Central Alaska, I encountered someone I thought should have been busier devoting his philanthropic energies to the task of the next 24 hours…

O well. It seems he did his job alright, as this morning my family called to wake me up (7:30 a.m. my time) so I could listen on speakerphone while presents were opened and festivities engaged in. It was nice, and so far it’s the closest I’ve come to any real Christmas activities. So strange, being up here, away from everyone I know. It’s a succinct test determining whether I am able to withstand the homesickness of a couple weeks during that time of year when most people are with their families and friends. I guess I’m passing? Or something.

I don’t like my roommates. I hope I don’t forget I said this, and then show them this blog. That would be awkward. I trust myself not to be that stupid, though, so I’ll keep being honest. I don’t like their personalities. Especially Peter. Night before last night, I was on the computer until almost 3 a.m., when I got ready for bed and climbed in. Shortly after covering up with my blankets, Peter and our new roommate (whose name I don’t remember but who is the youngest besides me and Chino and who now sleeps in Julio’s old bed) came in, clearly intoxicated. They (mostly Peter) were trying to whisper, but were succeeding only in making their voices raspier, and therefore more grating. I didn’t mind this very much, as I was a) not that sleepy still and b) sort of mentally agitated, not yet ready for sleep and welcoming of the opportunity to divert my mind. Still, that doesn’t mean I won’t complain about what happened.

The first thing I can concretely remember Peter saying was this:

“Man. I haven’t wanted to smoke pot in….like…two years, but, man, right now I could really hit the J.”

I cringed in my fetal curl and pulled my hood even further over my face, but I could still see the reflection of a small flame playing across the wall right in front of my face. This irritated me, because I don’t like pot smoking and I prefer not to be around it. Granted, they thought I was asleep, but there’s also a sign on every single door in this entire building threatening immediate for any tenant who introduces or alcohol or drugs into the building. What happened next, though, was completely inexcusable for anyone, much less a man at least ten years my senior and of comparable intellect.

“Hey, I’m going to listen to some music, man, ok?” he rasped to the other roommate. “But, here’s the thing, I am terrible at volume control, right? So I need you to tell me if it’s too loud, ok? Can you do that? Ok.”

And he proceeded to lie on his bunk, smoking pot, and listen to The Jackson Five’s “ABCs” at top volume on his headphones. On the other side of the room (refer to the video below), I could hear every note crystal clear. The other roommate left the room to smoke (I rolled over and watched him leave), which is good, because I couldn’t stifle my giggling. Peter is a ridiculous person; I knew this already. After this video, the next video below it is something I recorded while he explained his atheistic antagonism toward religion to another new-ish roommate, nicknamed Scarecrow. I have promised myself I will get a picture of Scarecrow at some point, because I want you to see why I (and the night manager here) call him that. I think he’s Jewish, actually.

To give more context on the above video, the conversation that I overheard went something like this:

"Oh, so you're religious? Cool...I'm not. I'm atheist. Does that bug you? I mean, I don't want you to be offended, I just..don't try to talk to me about any of that. It just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, It's not that I dislike Christianity, but I just have my own thing, you know? I think whatever you need to get by is what you need, as long as you're a good person. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm sure it's great, but it's just not my thing, you know?"

Without the other guy getting a word in. Ugh...





UPDATE: As I was writing this, something else happened. Tracy(/Tracie?), who I have gathered from indirect evidence is not a paying customer but a homeless friend of the owner, just walked out of the room to my right shouting this (heavily edited) diatribe:

"I don't believe in [sodomy]. I don't believe in putting [vulgarites]. It's the [vulgarity] problem of the Aztecs who brought their genetic problem to the Catholic church. I don't believe in killing or raping little kids." &c., &c...

O_O

Moving on....

That’s about all that’s happened so far today and yesterday. There’s not a lot of Christmas-y stuff going on. Last night, less than an hour before midnight, half a dozen tenants of the Qupqugiaq were arrayed around a fuzzy TV in the upstairs lobby watching Ghost Rider with Nicholas Cage, and I spent about half an hour this morning listening to a partially deaf First Nations guy annoy Peter to death, which was hilarious. The guy is cooking a pot of meat with bones sticking out in all directions, which is disgusting, and he keeps flinging scum he skims from the surface of the pot into the sink with a ladle. I left quickly.

But, despite this, I want to send some Christmas feelings back home to you guys: