Thank you Boston for Paving the Way...

I was watching the news this morning, where they were at one point showcasing an increase in security on the Boston T (public transportation for you non-Boston folk). It seems the Boston Transit Police have stepped up patrols in response to the increasing terrorist threat.

Boston, I have one thing to say to you: *clap* *clap* *clap*

Thank you for being one of the few public transportation systems to have taken the terrorist threat seriously. In the video they showed, Transit Police were in every station and train, alert and steadfast. I can’t say it enough. Thank you. I wrote to my congressman 3 months ago about the need for increased security on the Washington, D.C. Metro. During my daily commute, I see 1 Metro policeman. One officer during my entire hour-long commute for the nation’s 2nd busiest public transportation system and, not to mention the fact that, the transportation system for the nation’s capital. I have yet to receive a response from my good friend “The Honorable” Chris Van Hollen.

We need only look into the history of terrorist threats to see where the true danger lies. India’s rail system was just hit a few months ago, killing hundreds. London’s Underground was hit just last year, killing innocent people and shutting down a vital artery into London. Japan had a chemical bombing in its transit system a few years ago, that resulted in a great number of sick and dead. History has shown us that our rail systems are the most vulnerable targets for terrorists. Collateral damage is exactly what terrorists are looking for.

There is no doubt that commercial jets pose the greatest threat, in that a plane gives a terrorist the ability to harm a large number of people. It has a shock effect that will never be forgotten. Because of this, I am grateful that Homeland Security is doing a good job protecting our airports. We need to adopt a strong focus on our public transportation though. A plot to attack the New York subway was discovered a few months ago, and for that I am greatly thankful. But what if they had not been caught prior? Were there enough subway police patrolling to pick out a possible terrorist threat in action? Would it have been stopped during the action phase, if it had not been discovered in the planning phase? I don’t think so.

Taking a step back to the beginning, the news report I was watching began asking Bostonians how they felt about the increase in security and the random bag-checks. A woman they interviewed answered, “A total invasion of privacy! I don’t want them looking through my bag! There is no reason for this…” Wrong, there is every reason for it. If a policeman has to look through my bag and find my condoms, tampons, nipple clamps, or whatever private, embarrassing thing I have in my bag to decrease the chance of the following occurring during my morning commute, so be it:

Are you happy?

As most people do, I went through a phase in college. It was not short lived, like most phases, but it did die out after some time. The reason for its demise is what I intend to center this blog entry around, but I must first introduce this purposefully mysterious phase.

I realized during my first year of college how empty greetings can be. “What’s up?” is such a hollow question, as is “How is it going?”. Questions like this are more a “hello” than a question of “How is life”. I noticed, as I had been noticing for some time, that most people who ask these questions tune out directly following them. It is as if the answer does not matter. I tested my theory often, answering to peoples, “How is it going?” with a “not too good”. The response was often, “yea man” or “good stuff”. I might as well have told them I had just stabbed my dog with an icicle which melted, thus eliminating all evidence of my evil deed. “Good stuff, man”.

Equally as empty is often the response. Some people ask the question with a true interest and concern to how things really are going, yet most replies are automatic. I’m sure you know what I mean. Someone says, “How’s it going?” and the other responds, “Can’t complain” or “good” without even thinking. They could have just been bitch-slapped by a parakeet and still respond, “Can’t complain”. Having thought about this, I deduced that a new question was in order. Something that showed a genuine interest in how the person was doing while also not giving them an easy out or automatic response.

Thus, I started asking people, “Are you happy?”

This question often caught people off-guard, which was exactly my intention. It caused them to think about their day or recent occurrences, and to respond with a genuine answer. If something bad had happened in their day that they had tried to repress, they were forced to recall their day and set occurrence and actually evaluate how it had affected them. They were basically forced to evaluate how their day had influenced them.

The issue lies therein: forcing someone to recount things that they may not necessarily want to think about. Humans are naturally repressive. We often chose not to deal with something, and to pretend everything is alright. Naturally, our response to “how is it going?” is “good” because we would like to think everything is good and there is no reason for it not to be. So when someone with this mindset is forced to recall repressed feelings, they may not like the following discussion.

Like Communism, my question was a good concept in theory. But as the theory Communism does not take into account the natural human desire for power, my theory of “Are you happy?” does not take into account the natural human desire to pretend that everything is ok.

I tried for two years to utilize this question among friends. You couldn’t ask someone you just met, “Are you happy?” as they would probably wonder, sad fact as it is, what planet you are from. But my friends developed an automatic response to this. They anticipated it, as I tried to use it in every discussion, and I eventually conceded defeat.

I realize now that in my haste to create a more open and probing question, I was forcing others to divulge information they would rather repress while also using it so often that it was no longer a surprise. I have, since that time, revised my tactic so that I use the question sparingly with friends who I have no spoken to in a while, or those who sound like they are thinking of something sad. The latter is a perfect situation, as it is obvious they are not repressing the situation and are almost hopeful to have someone pull the occurrence out of repression and into the open.

Humans go through their day, too often, without internalizing its events. They hide their feelings in belief that there is no solution and thus no reason to talk about it. We all have more friends than we realize. Though we may only turn to 2 or 3 friends for help, there are more shoulders to lean on than we give credit to. We must sometimes try to put ourselves out there for people who do not expect our shoulder, and in turn they will extend their own.

PUD Moves in to 320 Thomas

Sophomore year of college, my two best friends and I moved into a suite on campus. The suite contained a double and two singles. Jordan and Ford shared the double, and me and our friend Jay took the singles. The moments that followed are that of legend, and shall not be uttered here. Well, certain moments shall not be uttered here as they are inappropriate even for a blog whose entire premise surrounds being frank.

I digress.

Jordan (the Jewish, sheltered friend) started the year off for us with a very memorable event: he got drunk. Yes, I got drunk too and probably passed out with my shoes on, thus allowing people to write and draw penises all over my body with permanent marker, causing me to panic upon waking up due to the fact that I had a doctor’s appointment that day, but that is a separate story. You see, on our first night at Thomas Hall in Suite 32 Jordan got drunk for the very first time in his life. I am proud to say that it was under my influence, and Irish affinity for alcohol, that Jordan conceded excitedly to drink.

First, I would like to point out the obvious: Jordan did not get drunk through his entire Freshman year of college. Now now, it was a choice of someone not interested in the effects of alcohol. That lack of interest, though, was due to ignorance to its effects. After educating him through a year of blatant abuse of that delicious substance, he wizened up, and has been a fan ever since.

It was during this year that we befriended our neighbors through a common obsession: Halo. Using the campus Ethernet, we were able to connect our Xboxes so that we could play massive games of Halo that often erupted into wrestling sessions in the halls or chairs being thrown into rooms. But that is neither hither nor tither. We learned in our friendship that our friends belonged to Kappa Sig: one of the most fun fraternities on campus. After becoming friends, we were soon being invited to parties at their house. Kappa Sig became a Friday night ritual. We were suddenly groupies, and we had no problem with it.

Our Friday’s usually consisted of the following: I finished with classes in the early afternoon, stocked us with alcohol, and began drinking. By the time Jordan and Ford had finished classes, I was well on my way, and was thus able to convince Ford start up. Jordan would wait and watch as Ford and I drank beer after beer due to the fact that we consisted of 50% alcohol, 50% flesh and Jordan was 50% flesh, 44% blubber, 5% questionable homosexuality, and 1% Jewish. Dinner came, involving something fatty. Heavy pre-gaming would occur pre and post shower and then we would head to Kappa around 11:00pm. We would leave around 3:00, and if alone we would cook pork roll on our George. Yes, pork roll. I miss it so…If not pork roll, it was Waffle House, which I shudder at to this day due to the number of visits. Ford and I would usually pass out sitting in chairs watching tv with beers in our hands, and eventually wander to our beds at some point in the night. Jordan would go to bed prior to pork roll, or post Waffle House depending on the night, with his “bonnet”. (See example to right)

My grades were sub 3.00 as you can imagine. During the week, I would sit in front of the tv in our common room with an open book with the intention to read but lacking the will or concentration to do so. Ford and Jordan often teased me of this tactic, but I must admit that having the book in hand with intention released me of a large amount of the guilt of not doing it. I would often spend Thursday afternoon trying to convince Ford that his work “wasn’t that important” and that drinking was a much more engaging substitute. I proudly admit that I had a 93.3% success rate in this tactic.

I must pause, and fast-forward to graduation at this point to make something clear: I was not a waste in college. I took college more seriously from second semester Sophomore year to Senior year, ending up graduating over a 3.00 GPA. How much over, I dare not say…but at least we have that clear. Game onnnn!

The antics that surrounded that year cannot nearly be recounted in a single blog entry. Between a can of white paint, fights, alcohol, Ford’s many love interests, Jordan’s newfound affinity for new experiences, Turkey Hill, Loan, Kappa Sig parties, causing someone to tear their ACL, and exams, Sophomore year came close to being the craziest and most exciting year of college for PUD. Came close, yes, but oh so far…