I awaken at 1 PM in my college dorm, a serious hangover pounding in my head. I have never been one to throw up much, but a half a bottle of Jack and 8 Heine’s will do just about anyone in. After an hour or so in which I wish for a quick death, my health begins to improve significantly enough that life starts to be a viable choice. I shuffle back to my room trying to remember what day it is. CRAP! Its Thursday and I have a test tomorrow in Communication Studies 251 “Rhetoric of the American Debate.” Probably the worst class I have ever had, the prof is classic “chalk and talk”, but without the chalk. She stands in front of the class and drones, but at a speed envied by TV commercial producers on a tight budget. Just thinking of the class makes my fingers ache.
As I sit there trying to decide whether to eat something, find my notes, or lay down and allow the pounding in my head to recede a little more, I hear the call. It is a call I have been hearing in my head more and more often lately. Why am I here? What is my life for? Does anyone (including myself) really care if I live or die? I am a loner physics major at an elitist university who stopped going to church upon entering college as a protest against parents who insisted on it. I doubt anyone would notice if I went missing for several weeks.
That is, except for my partying buddy. Unfortunately for my academics, my mind wanders to that side of my life. One way to avoid the call is to drown it in alcohol, drunken male “bonding” rituals, scantily-clad women, dancing, and loud music … something I do 3-4 times a week at this point in my life. The excitement, the rush is hard to resist. It gives me a place in this world, even if that place is very ephemeral. I give in to that more primal call, reminding myself that I get to drop one test anyway. By this time it is already 3 PM or so, I hastily grab some fast food. I don’t want to get too late a start on the drinking, or I may not have time to get that buzz going, the one that helps me get over my natural shyness and low self-esteem so that I can become a party animal personified.
There is a difference this day though; a third call intrudes upon me. I have never had a girlfriend before, I just figured myself to be unattractive to women, as they always avoided me unless drunk. I had this vision in my head of always being a loner, maybe eventually hooking up for one night stands when the last shreds of my conscience evaporated in the haze of many, long disillusioned years. But there is this new girl I’ve been seeing around. She is jaw-droppingly gorgeous, all the other guys agree … way out of my league. But she has smiled at me several times, and even said hi. Some of my buddies are encouraging me to ask her out, but I doubt I ever will. She’s just another beautiful woman that I will never be with (as James Blunt achingly croons on the radio).
ARGHHH! This afternoon is choir practice, and I have already missed the maximum amount before I get kicked out. Ah well, drinking will have to wait awhile. I shuffle over to the music building and enter the choir practice room. Speak of the devil … there’s that pretty girl sitting there. We just happened to be the first two to arrive to practice. Oddly enough, the hangover in me gives me resolve. Why not ask her out? It’s not like my situation in life will change if she says no (except maybe eliminate a few daydreams). Besides, that first call still rings inside me. Maybe I can find my purpose with her. What was her name again …?
Ah yes, “Hey Ann, got any plans this evening?”
"Recollect me darlin, raise me to your lips, two undernourished egos, four rotating hips"
