Thanksgiving in Ohio – The Recap

I haven’t been to Toledo in over 5 years. Every other member of my family made it out to my grandpa’s funeral last Winter except me; the one flight arriving on the evening before the funeral was cancelled. I’m not sure if I’ve told that to many of you. It was awful to keep hearing, “Sorry you couldn’t make it to Rex’s funeral, it would have been great to hear you speak. The service was lovely.”

Seeing my family was kind of nice, in spite of the setting being one of the more depressing cities you can imagine. Everyone who didn’t see me at Ryan’s wedding in June commented on how much I’ve grown. Besides that, I was pretty much left out of conversations, which was okay with me.

We stayed at my grandma’s house (my dad’s mom) in South Toledo. Everything is exactly as it was when my dad’s family moved there when he was in high school. On our first night in town we looked through slides dating back to the early 1970’s and recognized, in some of them, the TV that was still sitting next to the projector screen. The card table we played on in the living room has a drawer that houses the deck of cards we use next to a score card that has my late grandpa’s hand writing on it (he passed away in 1988). While talking to my brother on the phone, he asked if the clock in the dining room was still stopped at 12:00. It was.

When I visited Ohio as a kid, I didn’t quite understand what was going on. My brother and I would go off exploring somewhere, or hang out with cousins of the relatively same age, and leave the grown ups to converse. For most of this trip however, I was left to be an adult among adults and I really didn’t enjoy it.

When was it okay for me to be let in on conversations about the financial wreck most of my family is in? I don’t remember talk of foreclosures and ruined credit during any previous trips. As a kid, I remember being amused by things like the obesity of my extended family, the deafness of my grandma, or the out of control spending habits of my aunt. Not as funny now. None of my cousins of the relatively same age have gone to college, although two of them could have graduated by now. The brightest one, a year younger than I, had the opportunity to go, but turned it down and is now living with his older brother who has an ongoing battle with drug addiction. This living situation could either result in a moment of realization and resilience or another child my aunt and uncle will try to send through rehab. Everyone in that side of the family seems to be looking positively towards the future in spite of their hardships. Each cousin talked of enrolling in various educational programs in the near future. I hope dearly for their success.

Most of my visit and frustration was with my grandma. From what I experienced, her racism has gotten better, but her hearing has gotten worse. She actually let a black waiter take her plate during one lunch out and only privately complained to the manager later instead of making a scene of it like what happened last time I visited. Her inability to hear has gotten completely ridiculous. When we dare take her in public, she still points and laughs at anyone she sees with hearing aids or glasses. “Look at those stupid things in her ears,” she’ll say in what she thinks is a whisper, but is actually at a level that turns heads. Every single time the phone rang while we were visiting, even if she was next to it, someone would have to yell to her that the phone was ringing, give up, get up, and answer it themselves. A typical conversation between her and my dad would be as follows (I tried to remember this word for word to bring back as an example):

Dad: [Telling a story in the front seat of the car]

Grandma: [Accidentally interrupting from the back seat because she had no idea that dad was talking] Do you remember Phil Garrett?

Dad: Yea. [Uncle] Jeff’s friend from school?

Grandma: You know him?

Dad: [Louder] Jeff’s friend?

Grandma: Jeff’s friend from St. John’s?

Dad: Yes I remember him.

Grandma: From St. John’s, remember?

Dad: [Practically yelling] Yes, I remember.

Grandma: You don’t?

Dad: I do, I do remember.

Grandma: Oh, well, I sat behind his mom at church on Sunday. I think she moved into those new apartments down by Swan Creek. [The story continues for a much longer time with specific details about the life of a woman we don’t know or care about].

I should feel sorry for someone who has lost an entire sense, but it is really hard, especially when she refuses to get correction out of vanity. It’s impossible to interact socially with her at all. She won’t hear you. She won’t get it.

It’s difficult to express the simultaneous pity and anger I feel. Grandma is horribly, horribly lonely, and yet she is the most selfish woman I have ever met. She told my mom that she wished my Aunt Jennie would never have married her husband or would leave him and come back home to live with her forever. The amount of psychological damage she has actually done to Jennie is horrifying and impossible to really explain without seeing the two of them interact.

I was the only one drinking fairly heavily on Thanksgiving Day (due, I suppose, in part to three family members being recovering alcoholics [who thankfully remained sober]). One of my parents would pour me a glass of wine and say, “Thanks for coming, sorry about this.”

Fucking Ohio. I tell ya. I’m glad my family got out. I don’t enjoy seeing my family's roots withering like this.

On the plus side, it’s raining here in Virginia. The drought may be over.

Xoxo,
Colin

Prison is fun in the Phillipines

This is the coolest. I hope you all haven't already seen it. From "About the Video":

1,500 plus CPDRC inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center, Cebu, Philippines at practice! This is not the final routine, and definitely not a punishment! just a teaser.

The transvestite is their choreographer. I hear tell that if you look close, you can see prison guards with large guns on the towers above.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=hMnk7lh9M3o

I start work at Panera Bread Co. in 45 minutes. My brother got me the job, which is weird. Apparently they call it "St. Louis Bread Co." in St. Louis, but nowhere else. Hmm.

ALEX IS ALIVE!

http://www.theonion.com/content/magazine/do_todays_youth_have_what_it

Home!

I don't have a digital camera, so enjoy this internet picture
Well, it's been at least seven months since I've been in St. Louis, and while things have changed, the luxuries of living in a city are so much more apparent now that I've lived without them for so long. Firstly, movies. I'm going to go out and see a movie tonight. I have choices! I want to see the Cohen Brother's new movie, but I promised my parents I'd go see it with them. So my friend and I have to choose a movie. We have sooo many options (eat it Lakeville.), and I hope we go see the Bob Dylan documentary. That'llbenice.

I went to my friend's new apartment yesterday night. His whole life is completely changed. He's working at QuickTrip, and soon he'll be a salaried employee. His apartment is empty. We lead completely different lives, except he had an X-Box. It was the one detail of familiarity that created in my mind an entire connection between his life and mine. For a moment, it was completely possible in my mind that playing Halo would lead me to his life. Hopefully that's not true. And besides, he really likes playing ultra-realistic racing games. Yuck. It was good to see him even as he 'grows' up.

Why the quotes?

Who knows.

NB:
St. Louis has the highest rate of Chlamydia and Gonorrhea according to the CDC. It is also the most friendly city to cigarette smokers according to Forbes magazine. Random facts about my fair city.

SNOW!

Well, I guess since we're on break again, I'll post on the blog again. I looked out the kitchen window this morning, and this is what I saw:
COLORADO: Welcome home, Tom. I brought you some snow.
TOM: Thanks, Colorado. That was very thoughtful of you.

Here's what happens to my dog when she goes outside in the snow:
And here's a closeup with my mom warming her butt by the fire in the background:She'd kill me if she saw this on the internet. For all you Jackson Fry fans out there, here's his senior picture. It turned out way better than mine. I photographed it badly out of jealousy. Either that, or I'm a bad photographer. Neither reflects well on me:
My mom took him out to take pictures, "like, four times," by my bro's estimate. She neither confirmed nor denied this figure.

One more shot o' the backyard. Winter has arrived! Did I mention that it's sunny out, and half of this has melted already? Don't care. Snow is only necessary in the morning and at night, anyway.
Much merriment tomorrow. I am eating at least half the turkey. Perhaps I'll post some photos of my grandparents' classy-ass house, which is the kind of house I want to own. I should probably start looking into more lucrative career paths...

Fork of my Youth

When I was little, I had this special little fork. I don't remember now specifically what it was. What I do remember was that it was much smaller than the fork my parents and older brother used. It was my fork. The silver end had three prongs. The plastic end that I held had a little robot on it. In retrospect, it was probably some silly promo fork, probably for, like, Transformers, or something, but I didn't understand that. There was a sweet robot on my fork. I really liked eating stuff with that fork when I was little.

Every day during elementary school my mom would pack my lunch. I would always beg my mom to pack my fork so that I would be able to eat lunch with it. Again, I really liked that fork. There was a certain pride I felt when I ate with that fork that I have been unable to rekindle even today.

On certain very special days, my mom would give in to my request and pack my fork with my lunch.

I remember very specifically one day that she packed it and I was really excited to see it in my lunch box. I don't remember what I used to eat with it, but I felt like a king. At the end of lunch time, I would take my trash over to the big trash cans where everyone threw their trash away and where the poorer kids would return the trays on which they carried their school-bought lunch. I'm not sure what happened, but I wasn't paying very close attention to my trash that day. At some point, my very special fork got caught up on the plastic baggies and tupperware that my food was packed in. When I threw my trash away, my fork went with it. I didn't even notice at the time.

When I got home from school that afternoon I unpacked my lunchbox and found my fork to be missing.

I started crying.

I cried a lot when I was a kid, about silly things, but I have no regrets about this cry.

It's actually weird, even to this day, when I think about that little fork, and that I threw it away by accident, tears come dangerously close to my eyes.

-Colin

http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/bro_youre_a_god_among_bros

Pre-frosh move-in day has COME.

i just saw safford wolfson and hottie-bomb-bottie ALEX WOLFF.
later i'm picking up kurchi "jojo" basu.
this day is great.

http://www.straightedgelifestyle.moonfruit.com/

The Original Influx Techtrometer

I got tagged in an unusual photo yesterday.


That is THE original Influx Techtrometer show when I was in 11th grade. A Korg on an ironing board. I used to be brilliant.

Fuck X-Box games. Fuck Arrested Development (besides, I already watched every episode in The Manhattan). I am going home and working on techno music this afternoon.

Xoxo,
Colin

UPDATE:
I will be in Northfield September 4-16.

OMGOMG

BROMECOMING!

"This Is Bowie to Bowie"

I've yet to see the show, but this is amazing.

HUNTER!

Hunter Martin has almost as many friends as I do on facebook. And he's never even been on campus.

Man, why can't I be cool like that?

Colin's [CENSORED]*

Colin has returned to Northfield.

Alex and I did not know he was coming until we saw him walking up the steps. It was most excellent. We sat around for a while in the suddenly much warmer front room, and then borrowed a van and went on what turned out to be an epic adventure to pick up some stranded canoers. The rain came down in sheets as we pounded down many a wrong turn onto dubiously marked dirt roads, harmonizing to Meat Loaf's "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" and swerving about so as to throw the seatless and seat-beltless Steers against the van's insides. We returned home, made some surprisingly tasty Indian food before tucking in for a short [CENSORED] nap. Jose showed up at our door as we were starting Raising Arizona, Anne, Issac and Juan showed up after the movie was finished, and we drank all of our beer. Issac and I went to get more. When we came back, I caught a whiff of something suspicious, and was greeted by a giggling Alex, who, barely able to contain himself, held out a handful of prosciutto and declared "Tom Fry, I'm offering you meat."

On the whole, I'd say it was an historic Summer night. One of the best. I was right to miss you all, and still miss most of you. Hurry home; it's party time.

*Note: this document has been censored in the name of public decency.