My friends often complain that I'm never on instant messanger. For good reason, I try to limit my usage to business and school work, and don't log on other than when I need information from someone. Of course, tonight I just needed a distraction, and after two minutes of being online she found me.
I was in the middle of an Alex Ip conversation about CS and such when my facebook friend (Christine) messaged me. I laughed at first, because chode has been talking about all the wierd im's he gets from guys who saw him on the site. This was my first, and not necessarily unsolicited since we'd been messaging back and forth for a while.
She was excited to find me online. I pulled the typical bland and coy routine, trying to feel my way into the conversation. She didn't buy it. She said I needed to lighten up. So then we started talking about hispanic midgets, how I hated/she liked the show Friends, law school, and the tent she had just bought. Infact, she was in the tent at that very moment, typing to me on her laptop.
I was impressed.
It was something that I could see myself doing -- being so wrapped up in a new purchase that you just couldn't put it down. It's like sleeping with your new baseball glove, or refusing to leave your new chair. Sometimes I still like to lace up my track spikes, even though it's been nearly four years since I put them on and got into the starters blocks for a race. To me, sitting in a tent was completely normal.
So we messaged some more. And we kept going, so I told her this was pretty dumb and that we should just meet in person since we were both up and just a block away. Besides, at this point I was convinced I was actually talking to some guy who was just leading me on, and that there was no tent. I had to make sure this was actually happening. She was reluctant at first, and I was ready to go to bed, but then we somehow drifted back to religion. Then she said she was calling an emergency meeting -- I had to discuss this with her -- in the tent.
So then it's midnight, and I'm walking to her apartment so we can sit in her tent and talk about Jesus. I went, and I know that you probably think we're both crazy for sitting in a tent indoors. But the craziest part is that it was one of the most intense and enjoyable conversations I've had at Cornell. She was genuine, and warm. There were no pretenses of facades. No lies between us.
Earlier this year, a bunch of students got together and protested Cornell's proposed West Campus parking lot. They didn't want the University to tear down a forest to build it and promptly launched the "save the Redbud woods" movement. It seemed passionate, and in some ways I was envious. I wanted to feel that passionate about something. But then a few months ago I was talking with one of the leaders of the movement, and he admitted to me that he has never really spent any time in the redbud woods, he just thinks its something worth protesting. That drove me crazy! How could he protest to save something he didn't know anything about? Something he'd never done anymore than look at from the window of a house or car?
And that's what made the conversation in the tent so amazing. It was all upfront, and none of it was manufactured or contrived. We rambled about a bunch of topics, and just spoke our minds. It was so free and unsheltered, something I haven't had since Nagowski's nights on the porch.
I've been looking for a Victory Club formal date, and originally thought she might like to go. When I asked, I jokingly added that I wondered what she would look like in a cocktail dress. She assurred me (and after meeting her I could see it) that she would look good. I think from now on though, I'm going to start asking people what we'd talk about if we were sitting in a tent.
Hopefully they'll answer God, the Yankees and Pat the Pirate.
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