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Thread: Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS page 293

  1. #2921
    Gay Panda's Avatar
    Gay Panda is online now Senior Member
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    Primal Fuel
    PART ONE: The story of how Lady Friend and I met is only interesting for its bit characters.

    When I was seventeen, I trotted off to a prestigious college where people with insecure egos go in yet another fruitless bid to prove to themselves and the world that they are smart. If you are not confident in your own intelligence, aiming for a ritzy and expensive school is an easy trap in which to fall. This was exactly how I ended up there, turning down less flashy colleges with better financial aid packages for a school with manicured hedges and Mediterranean architecture and an impressive name, as well as a price tag that could make an angel cry tears of blood imprinted with dollar signs.

    Despite the price tag, I landed in a triple. This is a dorm room shared between three occupants. I worried about this when I got the letter, the school informing me that there had been so many qualified applicants accepted for the class that space would be a little tight. The admissions department acted as if it did not know how this had happened. We just descended out of nowhere on this poor, innocent little college, and they felt it their educational, nay, moral duty to take us all in. Incredibly, some students were even wedged into quads and quints. But I pulled only a triple.

    Sadly, all three of us were extremes. I am extremely introverted. Another was extremely religious. The third was extremely sloppy, having grown up in a very privileged family with ‘help’. Clothes barfed out of the closet in a puddle measuring 3 x 2.5, rising a full four feet into the air at its highest point. Ants attacked the leftover trays of food squirreled from the dining hall; no one could see the carpet because it was under so much debris. Not even the phone could be found. When it rang, I watched my roommate run to the wall and follow the cord from the jack under dirty clothes, garbage, papers, more garbage, textbooks, and finally, even more garbage to locate it*. Meanwhile, the religious student took in my Tarot cards and other magical paraphernalia from trying to be psychic and prayed for my soul. Needless to say, we did not get along, and there was no way to avoid each other.

    Although Gay Panda is extremely introverted and socially awkward, Gay Panda does like to have friends. Making them, however, is difficult. I am not the panda in the crowd who dishes out snappy repartee** and the party scene is hard with my hearing. Asking the guy next to me in chemistry to borrow a pencil took several minutes of getting up the nerve; the dining hall with its cacophony of smells and clatters and voices ricocheting off the walls is enough to send someone who scored four points from autism straight back outside. But no, I was going to be normal! I forced myself through that sensory hellhole with a tight smile and my knuckles white on the tray, and when the Grumpy Serving Ladies asked what I wanted from the hot bar, I answered and analyzed it afterwards while collecting my drink to gauge how normal I’d seemed. Then came the chore of finding a chair. I tried to time my meals to avoid the chaos, breakfast and dinner easily manageable in this regard, but nothing could be done for lunch when I only had an hour before my Latin class with Stan the Pervert Man.

  2. #2922
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    Gay Panda is online now Senior Member
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    PART TWO: Where do you sit when you don’t know anyone? Well, I knew my roommates Religious and Slob, but I didn’t want to sit with them. One day I took one of the the only seats left at a table with a girl I recognized, because she was impossible to miss. Six-three and well over three hundred pounds, the girl parted the lunch crowds like the prow of a ship through a tempestuous sea. Her voice was a slap of a decibel level, and she wore a pentagram necklace. Over the bray of several hundred students, she was talking at the top of her lungs about fairies.

    I sat and ate while she went on and on about the fairies who lived under the leaves outside her English seminar and waved to her, and from there her conversation (which needed no other person to engage it) turned to the other night when she’d danced around the school fountain singing and sacrificing rose petals to the dark water. I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but she didn’t need me to say anything and that is a marvelous thing for an introvert.

    In case you are worried, the girl was not Lady Friend.

    Fruity Fairy was as keen on having me as her audience as I was keen to let her star on the stage of her own personal show, and we became friends. She had a posse of equally strange fellows, boys and girls who talked about the forces of light and darkness and candle energy. Some were Goth and some were punk, some were who-knows-what and there was preppy Young Gay Panda in their midst fussing with hair parts and trying to shuffle Tarot cards with the swift precision of Data in poker games on Star Trek: The Next Generation***. Fruity Fairy drew us all together under the welcoming umbrella of her insanity, and in its shade I met Lady Friend one afternoon. We made little impression on one another. None of our classes were together, she being in her last year of college with me in my first. Neither did we run into each other again until the next January when school resumed after break.

    I was not doing too well in college at that point. Chemistry has always been my academic Waterloo, but if I wanted to go to medical school as I did at the time, it was required. My mother was pressuring me to major in music, which I was resisting. I enrolled in music history to placate her, knowing that I was going to hate the class, and I decided to round out my schedule with something fun. Something fun would be creative writing, to give me a route to let loose around the stifle of declensions and equations and clips of Bach. My high school creative writing teacher had been an inch from retirement and was already in celebration. Too many months of her class were nothing more than assignments such as ‘Draw Your Gravestone With Magic Markers While I Visit The Lounge’ and ‘Write Some Poems**** For Peer Review So I Can Sit Up Here And Read The Newspaper’.
    Last edited by Gay Panda; 05-30-2012 at 06:22 AM.

  3. #2923
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    UPDATE: (in explanation of *, **, ***, and ****)

    * In addition to being a slob, this student also didn’t have the faintest breath of common sense. After freezing a can of soda in the mini-fridge by accident, Slob popped the door of the microwave and set the can inside. I screamed. Slob and I argued about why this was not a good idea.

    ** I said something snappy in Wisconsin! We were driving with a friend through the plains and Lady Friend asked, “Gay Panda, how long were the glaciers here?”
    Thinking how the f*ck would I know, I said very sagely, “Until they melted.”

    *** I also had a Bajoran earring, although I was not often brave enough to wear it.

    **** After the third week dedicated only to poems, I lost my temper and wrote Ode to Toilet Duck.

  4. #2924
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    Snickering loudly over here. "Sensory hellhole" is a familiar experience for me, like shopping on high-anxiety days, or yeah, navigating busy college areas without someone you know.
    When do we get the rest?
    [[bounces in rolly chair]]
    Journal on depression/anxiety
    Currently trying to figure out WTF to eat (for IBS-C).

  5. #2925
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    Quote Originally Posted by namelesswonder View Post
    Snickering loudly over here. "Sensory hellhole" is a familiar experience for me, like shopping on high-anxiety days, or yeah, navigating busy college areas without someone you know.
    When do we get the rest?
    [[bounces in rolly chair]]
    I am so glad I am not the only one. Christmas shopping is hell, especially when you add in the overload of perfumes from people who think it's necessary to bathe in fragrances, some of which set off my asthma. My crowd tolerance is definitely situational and stress-related, since I can manage the crowds at the farmers market much better than at a mall.

    Panda, what is it about creative writing profs that leads them to such odd assignments? I know some of it is meant to loosen students up so they will become more comfortable with writing, but seriously, I'm not a poet, and there are only so many damn poetry projects I am willing to do before my head explodes.
    “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

    Owly's Journal

  6. #2926
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    jenn26point2 is online now Senior Member
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    Quote Originally Posted by Gay Panda View Post
    ** I said something snappy in Wisconsin! We were driving with a friend through the plains and Lady Friend asked, “Gay Panda, how long were the glaciers here?”
    Thinking how the f*ck would I know, I said very sagely, “Until they melted.”
    hehehehe
    Primal since March 5, 2012
    SW: 221 | CW: 182 | LPW: 166 | UGW: 140 (80 lbs loss)




  7. #2927
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    I third (?fourth?) the sensory hellhole experience. i hope you didn't waste too much money at school.

    *blushes*
    thanks Sigi. at least i didn't flash ya'll.

  8. #2928
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    Quote Originally Posted by Saoirse View Post
    at least i didn't flash ya'll.
    it's still early. We have faith in you

  9. #2929
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    Quote Originally Posted by canio6 View Post
    it's still early. We have faith in you
    By the Power of Greyskull! *oh, I got distracted by the nice rack...I likes it when you write stories and such GP. The cafeteria scene reminds me of my time in institutionalized helldom.
    If I just said LOL, I lied. Do or do not. There is no try.

  10. #2930
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    lol, maybe if i was drunk while browsing, i would've sent you some of the pics i had sent my husband.

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