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![]() Over the past eighteen months of my life I have exposed myself to things that I never would have previously. I hate to admit it, but as my father always said, I know more now because of life experiences. That, of course, is not to say that some old fart, Strom Thurman, knows more than I do. Though my father is not a bigot, he still may try to differ. Strom has years of life experience. Bullshit. One thing that I never have exposed myself to is someone with dissenting political views. I held my beliefs in high regards and felt that they were the only views that were correct. A friend taught me that when you find someone the most unlike yourself, they may, perhaps, be more like you than anyone you know. When I moved away to college, I moved into a student apartment to be shared by myself and three others. Two of them I had know from a class in high school and the other was a complete stranger. I still remember the day he walked into our apartment for the first time. Here we were, three art school students looking the part, fucking around trying to be cool and in walks Jason. In one hand he held a motorcycle helmet, in the other a bag. Ontop of his head grew what many call a mullet, but was later termed "camaro hair." Short on top and long in the back. Tight jeans held his scrotum snuggly inplace. High top Reeboks and a flannel completed his stylish ensemble. Holy Shit, what was this kid doing at an art school? ID. Industrial Design. The answer came to me like herpes. I introduced myself to him and did not speak with him for at least the next three weeks. If he was somewhere, I would head the other way. After three weeks, we spoke, but only small talk. A few times I would get into these intense arguments about my political views. Never would I even consider what he was voicing. I was right and so was he. Nothing either of us said was going to sway the other. That is how things were for the next few weeks. Then, the oddest things happened. We began to find common bonds. At first it was the fact that both of us stayed in the apartment and worked 24 hours a day. Then it was our odd sense of humour. We would get completely naked, put various objects, clothing, tape, bags, etc., over different parts of our bodies and scare our other roommates friends. We found great humor in all of this. As time went on, we ignored our petty differences. In a stressful environment, I found release and great enjoyment in my time spent with Jason. For hours we'd sit at our drawing tables, work and talk. The stereo never pleased the both of us, either it was his Blue's Traveler or Country Radio or my Hardcore. We spent hundreds of hours in that room. 501 [the apartment number, where we lived] soon became synonymous with two freaks that never wear clothing. People soon would not enter into our room as they knew Jason and I would soon make them pay. This year, one year after 501 has disbanded, it is all still talked about. Jason and I became closer and closer as the year went on. When the year came to a close I felt this loneliness that I would not have this person to run naked with, talk all night to WRIF Radio, borrow his cowboy boots and tight jeans. It was all so weird that I had become such a close friend with this hick. We were so fucking different, right? When I had my heart broken and pulled deep into myself. None of my friends would reach out to me, except Jason. He called me many nights, concerned about how I was doing. This mullet haired hick gave a fuck about me, a vegan kid with tattoos. It just does doesn't seem right. This can't be. The emotions and feelings I felt were the same he had felt and was feeling. It all came together one night. I had gotten off the phone with Starr, the heartbreaker, and was feeling like utter shit. For some reason Jason called and we talked for hours. I hadn't been up doing something, other than crying, in a long time. The following weekend, his roommate Corey was having a party. I decided to go. Fuck. I hated parties. All of the beer, alcohol, fatty carnivorous food made me sick. But, maybe this was a time to spend with friends that I rarely got to see anymore. I went and had a great time. I bonded so closely with Jason that night that I honestly consider him my best friend. The original idea for this column was going to be how alcohol can positively affect people. The fact that when my friends get drunk, they let their emotions flow. Matt, another ex-roommates, whom is very homophobic and your "typical" male has kissed me before. People let it all out when drunk. I don't think people do things that they don't want to when drunk, they do things that they know are right. All of the shit that has been instilled in them drops a level and it is the real person. No walls. No facades. I may never condone drinking and hate the fact that people need to drink to act with love and let their emotions come out, yet I would have never seen sides of friends if they had not gotten drunk when I was around. Anyone that ever thinks that they are so fucking high and mighty because they do not drink can kiss my ass. I made a decision to stay sober. I made. I MADE. I have never made the decision for anyone else. I have had much more fun with drunk friends than boring straight edge kids that are too high and mighty. Get fucking shit faced! It is your decision. Whatever you do though, remember that your decisions affect your friends lives. Never, ever, alienate someone because they fall. I did that to a friend once and I will always hate myself for it. We are all different. Noone better. Take a good look at how you judge people. From their style of clothing, to skin color, to breast size. I have found friends in people that look, think and act in ways opposite from mine. ![]() |
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