Bad for the eyes, but good for something.

Last night I attended what is quite possibly the craziest party I have ever attended. The music was loud, the hips were a swingin' and people were inebriated. And the best part? It was sanctioned by the "authorities" of my dorm on a dry campus. It cause quite a stir.

About two weeks ago it was the twenty-first birthday of a friend of mine. Unfortunately for her, it was on a Monday night. Two of our friends decided to throw a belated birthday party for her in the form of a rockin' dance party. Those two fellows go by the names Scotty Neon and Joey Colors. Since beginning the planning of this party they have added Molly Bright to their ranks and "started" a party planning company called Bright/Neon/Colors. This was their first official party (their first unofficial was a total failure and was thrown for yours truly. See me for that story).

Scotty Neon and Joey Colors contacted the Area Coordinator of our building to make sure the party could actually happen. Her stipulations were that they had to reserve the TV room (where they were planning on throwing the party) and it had to be over by quiet hours (meaning midnight on Saturday night). Fine. Room reserved, they headed over to the print center on campus to buy neon colored paper to decorate with. Next stop was our campus venue where they acquired some speakers and other sound equipment.

Invitations went out two days after the idea of the party was born. Printed on some of the neon paper was this:

SPRiNG FLiNG!!!
Axxxxx'S BiRTHDAY PARTY!!!
THiS SATURDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
W/ FREE MUSiC & DANCING!!!
DANCiNG STARTS @ 10 iN Mxxxxx!!!!!!!
SHOW UP EARLY!!! (SURPRISE!!!)
qUiET HOURS START @12!!!
FiRST EVER Mxxxxx BOUNCE* PARTY!!!

*Bounce: 1.to move or walk in a lively, exuberant, or energetic manner
DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!! DiSCO!!!

Each was hand addressed to some ninety invitees. The rest of the paper was used to print the word "PARTY!!!" on as many sheets of neon paper as possible (these lined the floor from the front door of the building to the room the party was in) and a huge biblical quote about dancing. I believe that it said something like "David danced for the Lord..." This quote was posted on one wall of the room and two long black lights were hung on the other side. A spinning light ball and a bubble machine completed the decorations in the room.

Just outside the room (in a computer lab, as a matter of fact) was a table with treats and snacks as well as a piece of art made by Joey Colors for a class. It consisted of a Bratz doll covered in paint and looking disheveled while holding a twenty-first birthday balloon. Her name is Party Girl (seriously).

In addition to all of this, signs were posted throughout the building and on every door of a room that would be affected (those in the same hallway as the TV room, and those directly above it) stating the time, place and nature of the event, and inviting one and all to join us. These were posted the morning of the event giving residents plenty of time to find another place to be if they wished to avoid it.

Preparations thus executed, it was time to party. At promptly ten in the evening (after partaking in some illicit activities in the privacy of my room) I walked down to the TV room to find music blasting and people dancing. I did not stop dancing for more than five minutes during the two hours I was there. At one point I ran into someone I hadn't seen for a few months and he said that he came because he heard the music from his dorm building a five minute walk away). Mission accomplished.

Everyone who came had a blast and at three minutes to midnight the music was shut off and people disbursed. I stayed and helped clean up the immediate mess (trash on the floor, the signs on the wall, the cable lying about behind the DJ booth, et cetera). Then we went to bed.

To recap: birthday party for a friend, legit in the eyes of the "authority" figure, loud as hell music, more sweat than you can shake a stick at, squeezed into two hours. The issue? Three (three!) complaints were raised to the Area Coordinator. Her response? Email the entire building and the director of campus housing with this little gem:

Residents of Mxxxxx Hall,
I am so very sorry for the noise level last night. I could offer a number
of excuses but none of them make up for the fact that the dance was as
loud as it was. I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.
I PROMISE that this will NEVER happen again.

Can I get a hell yes? Now, my building is a "nerdy" and typically quiet dorm. It has the only two "quiet" floors on campus. Nothing ever happens here. Today, it was the talk of campus because a few people couldn't handle it. So, our solution is to move to another building for the next party. The quote on the wall for the next one? "I PROMISE that this will NEVER happen again... in Mxxxxx Hall."

Here's a picture of me taken just outside of the party room sometime during the night's revelries:

Woosh. Long post. Good story. Hope you enjoyed.

Collecting Complaints

I should be working on a paper right now. One thousand words on three to ten lines of Canterbury Tales. I've got about eight hundred, so I'm doing alright, but I'm bored with it. And I don't really have a thesis or my three to ten lines picked out, so at the moment it's just a critical analysis of the Pardoner's Tale.

I'm working on writing a play. It's simply called Bitch, but that's really because I don't know what it's about yet. It started when I had the idea that it would be sweet to do a show that had a really minimal set consisting of a rotating stage with a card table and four chairs on it. There are four characters who talk while playing cards. I've been stealing and altering words from bands and my friends, as well as writing my own stuff. It's only five pages at the moment and it's really disjointed. I don't really know how to write a play. I'm making up my own rules, which I suppose is a good thing, but I wish I had some idea of what I'm writing about.

I was home over the weekend for my grandmother's funeral. It was a strange experience. I'd never been to a funeral, so in that sense it was odd, but it was also hard seeing and talking to my dad for the first time in four and a half years. In that time, he got married and I graduated from high school and moved on to college. We have a lot of catching up to do.

While I was home, my mind slipped into "break" mode because spring break is coming up in less than a week. It was dangerous. That's why I have this paper looming over my head. I also have a number of other midterm assignments due in the next few days. I would really like to be done with the next week so I can relax.

I ended up hanging out with my good friend Adam, as well as a few others while I was home. We talked and shared a pot of chamomile tea. It was a relaxing evening spent with good friends. It was something that I don't get here at school. Maybe I don't let people in as much as I let my friends in high school in, but I don't feel like I know anyone, or that anyone knows me, as much as I know my good friends from home. At school I feel like I'm constantly treading softly and making sure to not offend anyone, where as at home, I don't have to. I know the limits, and so does everyone else.

During the course of that night, Adam turned me on to a band called Defiance, Ohio. All of their music is available for download from their website. They remind me of a mix between Murder by Death and Against Me! which is a very good thing in my book. I especially like their latest release The Fear, The Fear, The Fear. There's some really beautiful stuff happening in their music, between the lyrics, the strings, the minimalism, the recording quality and the work ethic they have. I appreciate it a lot, and recommend it very highly.

That's enough for now. I'll have a more substantial and less vain post soon, hopefully. Until then, be well.

Going to Glory

It's been far too long.

First, the show I've been working on for the past three weeks just closed. It was a phenomenal show and I'm very proud to have worked on it. I was very happy with the way my sound design turned out and how it was received, and I was overwhelmed by how well the show went over. It was stunning. I'm especially proud that one of my peers directed it, and eight of my peers acted in it. The talent that I am constantly surrounded with is incredible.

Ok. Enough of that. On to serious things.

Last August, both of my grandmothers were diagnosed with different types of cancer. Two weeks apart. That in itself was difficult for me to handle, but even harder was the fact that my paternal grandmother chose to forgo treatment entirely. She decided that at eighty, she had lived a full life and was ready to, in her words, "go to glory." How does one begin dealing with the fact that a loved one has decided to gracefully step out of this life and into another one? I wish I knew.

This past Monday my grandma Rita passed away. I have been very blessed up to this point in my life, in the respect that the only grandparent I lost, I never knew in the first place. In fact, I've never had a close family member pass away in my lifetime. My grandma Rita's husband, my grandpa John, died before I was born. Rita then remarried my step-grandpa Tom who has, for me, simply been grandpa Tom.

As far as I can tell, I'm fine, though at this point I'm very removed from the situation. I haven't seen my grandma since December, though I've talked to her on the phone and corresponded via the U.S. Postal Service. I'm at school at the moment with no way to get home until Thursday, just in time for the visitation. I can only imagine that when I get home, the weight of what has happened will hit me. At this point, nothing has.

The initial jolt of, "Grandma Rita passed away today," has passed and my life has gone on. It's had to. I have school work to do, friendships to maintain, and a future to look forward to. I like to think that grandma Rita would approve of this. She wasn't a very fussy woman (except when it came to grammar - I hope I'm serving her well, English major that I am), so I think she would have expected us to grieve briefly and move on.

Obviously, she was a strong and graceful woman to decide to "go to glory" in the way that she did. It was her decision all along. I can only hope that someday I will be as strong as her. I never intended for this blog to be a place for me to share my poetry, but I wrote something over the past few months after finding out that both of my grandmothers were sick. Here it is:

i’m holding on to every word
that i imagine You would say
if You were to pass this way
before you leave the world.

things like:
"I'll watch everything you
do
and be proud just the same
I'll watch everything you
do
And love you just the same."

we were never that close
but we were close enough.
though, it's next to impossible
for me to describe
the changes You have made
to my being.

You were and are
beautiful.
You are and will always be
beautiful.

You embody the word
mother
and are every bit as grand
as Your title implies.

i'll miss the little things.