Day 39

So I won a game of poker today, and I have to admit that I am proud of myself for that. This is the first game I can think of that I won completely by skill (instead of luck) against people who play poker a lot and well. I exercised patience and folded most of my hands. I bit the bullet when I had to and let go of hands that I wanted to win. I bought the pot when I could tell they wanted an excuse to leave. I bullied when I had to, and after big wins, when I would normally get impatient and start throwing money around, I kept playing as cautiously as I did at the beginning. Normally I get one big win and then I go all in on the next marginally good hand, sure of my luck, and lose everything. Patience has never been a virtue I've excelled at, but PPD teaches patience pretty well.

Anyway, I played hard because the prize was a DVD I wanted, which I won. So I spent the afternoon watching all three and a half hours of The Godfather, Part II.

So between poker and the movie and a little bit of reading this morning, my day went by pretty fast.

The took us on a walk this evening, which was nice. I saw the moon - kissing the horizon - for the first time in 39 days. Now, I've promised someone I would play him at chess. He's the ruling champion right now, and I think I might be able to beat him. After that, it's Risk!

You stay classy, Austin!

Day 38

Plenty of drama today. The guy I mentioned a week or so ago who got docked almost a thousand dollars for being late was kicked out today. With 4 days left. The rumor is that he continued to consistently be late, gave a lot of lip, and got in trouble for talking on the phone last night after lights-out, which he has gotten in trouble for before. Poor idiot. Anyway, so... he was yanked out of bed this morning and a couple of the larger, more masculine techs held the door to his room open and watched him pack, then escorted him out of the facility. He emailed someone today to say that he was paid $2 a night for the past 37 nights, which is PPD's worst punishment. He was a little lucky that we had already been given one check for $2500, because - even though he won't get any more money - that's still much more than the $2/night that they want to pay him. So, 4 days left out of 42, the guy gets 2500 dollars.

They also kicked out someone in the redshirts for being late, and I hear they kicked out 3 teal shirts (who are in a different wing than us, but we can see them through the one window that connects their wing to ours), also for being late. I guess they're cracking down. I think that may be the fault of the guy in our study. He was throwing fits and met with the "Subject Advocate" to complain that the docking system is unethical. I have a feeling he stirred the fire a bit.

Also, the guy I mentioned a while back - the one who has a wife with two kids and a girlfriend who he loves - has been fooling around with this girl in here for the past three days or so in ways that should get him kicked out of the study. Probably would get him banned from future studies, but I'm definitely not going to interfere there. Anyway, it doesn't matter now, because that girl left her study today. The guy and the girl were both chastised and docked for being too close physically and messing around in public, etc. Apparently someone in another study who knew of the misbehavior (everyone knows of the misbehavior) was also threatening the girl, threatening to report her, so the girl just left the study.

The girl is exactly the kind of woman every father should warn every son against as strongly as possible. The man is the kind of man every father should warn every daughter against as strongly as possible.

Too much drama, my friends. Way too much drama. All's good though. I'm not getting paid $2 a night. I'm a few days from freedom.

Day 37

You know, some days seem to be so filled. Like yesterday, it was as if the day was one long movie, as I read one long book. Which, by the way, was excellent. Today, I did more individual things, but it seems like I accomplished so little! A couple hours here and a couple hours there and then I'm sitting at the end of the day, dinner is over, and I'm wondering where my day went.

I spent the morning reading the second half of Genesis, finishing just before lunch. After lunch, I listened to more of "The Great Transformation". I actually took notes while listening, because - as interesting as I find the material - I have found it nearly impossible to stay focused, and have grown increasingly lost in all the names and terminology. So I have about 10 pages of notes from about three hours of book-listening. Somewhere in the middle of that, I took an hour and a half nap.

I guess it's a good thing that these last few days are speeding by so quickly, but I hate to end this little sojourn with a feeling of incompleteness. Then again, maybe that's the best way to leave my isolation. I think Confucius was right: spiritual growth is only possible in community, when altruism is possible. "How can one serve the gods until one can serve mankind? How can one know of the dead until one knows of the living?" So maybe walking out of PPD with a stack of books left to read and a million concepts I wish I understood better is not only inevitable, but completely desirable. Hmm...

I have to say that I'm hardly in a condition of isolation now, but this is nothing like community. I made one guy mad at me this morning by insisting that he's being a conspiracy theorist to think that the authorities here at PPD are intentionally lying to us for no obvious reason. Another guy has been hounding me with "an incredible cash making opportunity" and I don't have the heart to tell him to leave me alone, so I try to avoid him when I can. Speaking of him, I told him i would look at his online presentation tonight and tell him what I think. Once I look at it, I'll tell him I'm not interested.

Speaking of the guy who got mad at me this morning... he is ridiculously on edge these days. He's not the only one, but he's definitely exemplary. While we were standing in line to dose this morning, we had the little argument described above, where I and another guy both wanted to know why PPD would lie to us, and the first guy yelled at me right as I walked into the dosing room.

While I was in there, someone ran in and used the phone to call Kelly, our coordinator, saying "Can you get down here? Just come now. We've got a big situation with T-F," which is the man previously described (as if I didn't know his initials by this point). I was sure he had his someone and was about to get sent home. After I dosed, I saw Kelly and T-F and a paramedic go into a room and shut the door.

Turns out after I left, the paramedic came out and told everyone to quiet down, and the other guys nodded and said "we're cool, we're cool," but our friend got up in his face and told the paramedic to chill and stay out of it.

The guys who told me this story were laughing about it, but agreed to all be somewhere else by the time T-F came out. So I don't know what ended up happening in the room with the paramedic, and I don't intend to find out.

Besides that little explosion today, everyone has been pretty cool, but not out of camaraderie, but rather a sense that everyone's nerves are a bit on edge, and you don't know who might snap next. Everyone walks on eggshells. Oh, I forgot about another funny incident. Nothing really except that over lunch one guy passionately certain that beef is a meat that absolutely cannot - for health reasons - be served less than completely brown, and some of us were passionately certain that he had no idea what he was talking about and often says things he knows nothing about. Nothing happened there, because everyone silently realized we were arguing about the doneness of meat and we shut up. There was no laughing at the ridiculous nature of the argument though.

Disagreements between the picky eaters and the ones who are tired of hearing from the picky eaters are fairly easily settled by just saying, "well, you know, you don't have to eat a hamburger here after this meal." Which is true: every meal we eat is our last time for that meal."

Standard hallway greeting:
"What's up, Joe?"
"5 days, Seth."
"5 days."

So, in the name PPD, I bid you 5 days!

Day 36

I spent almost the entire day reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and I have about two hundred pages left. Since I started reading it this morning and it's over 750 pages long, I think that's good. I was never one to revel in an ice cream cone or a book, but suck it down whole, reveling in the speed with which that pleasure became only a memory. I read the 1st through 3rd Harry Potter books in one overnight session.

I wasn't actually planning on reading this book, honestly. I didn't read the 6th book, and as I have read this one, I don't think I ever finished reading the 5th book either. However, my dad was kind enough to surprise me with it during visitation on Saturday. So last night, I found book notes for the 6th book to get caught up and plunged into the 7th book this morning. Even then, I had to find the "Harry Potter Lingo" website and refer many times to it for forgotten creatures, curses, and people.

Considering the pile of books in my room and on my iPod, I don't regret my avoidance of Harry Potter, even though I have very much enjoyed the book so far. I think the problem is that Harry Potter is best read at a dead sprint without stopping for anything except breath and food (when necessary). I guess that's what makes it good children's literature: it instills a love of reading. An addiction to literature. A complete NEED to keep flipping the pages, waiting to see what will happen next. When you're a kid, and it's summer, Harry Potter is the kind of book that offers a compelling argument that TV is not the best form of entertainment.

However, if you're not young and it's not summer, Harry Potter is a little daunting! This is my experience at least. I read the first three books in one go. I read the fourth in a few long evenings, between homework and everything else. I may have had a job at that point; I don't remember. It was definitely worth it, but it was exhausting to be swept up in something that stands in complete contrast to things like responsibilities. (Which is not to say that the imaginary doesn't matter.)

By the fifth book, my schedule was even more packed, and the book was substantially thicker, and so I started it, but an hour here and an hour there is not really enough to get into it and stay in it, so I didn't finish the book! The 6th book was even thicker than the fifth, so I just shrugged and kept thinking I would read it next time I had a couple of days with nothing to do and nothing better to read. Which, of course, never happens. Before the 7th book came out, I assumed it would be even thicker than the 6th (which I think was right) and figured I wouldn't read it.

Well, I did get a few days with nothing else to do (42 days, to be precise), and I got a copy of the 7th book, and now, after 12 solid hours of reading, I have to say I am really enjoying this book! But if I wasn't in here, I don't think it would be very good.

And yet... I am the one who grew up with Harry Potter, who read the first books when the paper was still warm from the printer! The kids who made Harry Potter a celebrity are now in their late years in college or older. I wonder how many of them stood in line at midnight for a copy of this book? And if there were many, I wonder when they sat down and read the whole thing cover-to-cover... I wonder if it was unavoidable that the first Harry Potter fans would grow into muggles before Harry defeated Voldemort, grow into adults while their childhood symbol of evil is still alive, still undefeated.

I was 11 when the first Harry Potter came out.

Speaking of Harry defeating Voldemort, I still haven't finished the book, so possibly he doesn't...? I think I will go see if I can read 200 pages in the next 3 hours or so.

Day 35

Monday. July 23. 2007. Seth is 21.

I have a pounding headache that stretches down my neck and into my shoulders. I spent too much time today laying on my bed, on my back, listening to my iPod. Each thing that I do creates a different pain in excess. Too much typing created a pain in my wrists. Too much slouching in straight-backed chairs made my lower back hurt. And now I have laid on my head wrong and my neck is killing me.

There is little to say today. One week left. Tomorrow starts the last downhill stretch, which is exciting. Maybe I will have more to say tomorrow...

Day 34

Blues music, crossword puzzles, and the taste of marginally good food still in the mouth. Possibly, but this is good enough for me now.

So today I listened to several of the podcasts that I had fallen behind on: CarTalk and two episodes of Speaking of Faith. The first episode was called "The Ethics of Eating" and was an argument in favor of buying locally and only buying what's in season. Pretty interesting stuff. The second was the history of Abraham and his two sons in the three religions that claim Abraham as father. The speaker talked about the various explanations that the different groups give for Abraham's thwarted sacrifice of Isaac. I kind of wonder if the story could be viewed as a turning point in the development of the religion when Abraham assumed that Jehova wanted a human sacrifice of the first born son, since that was fairly common practice in the day, and had a revelation on the way to the mountain, and thought, "Wait a minute... this is stupid. God should be good," and decided that Jehova did not demand blood. Dunno, I didn't hear that interpretation. That the part where the Bible says that God told Abraham to sacrifice Isaac is wrong, because God didn't say that. Either way, it's still an important story because it shows the development of a good God who values morality over sacrifice. By the way, I'm kind of getting this out of The Great Transformation by Karen Armstrong. She never mentions the Abraham story, or hasn't at the point in the book where I am, but it is about the transition from tribal gods to gods of morality around the world.

I'm also about halfway through The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, which has sucked me in. Definitely a fascinating book, and I can't make time for my other books (Like the Armstrong book) until I finish this one. I made myself stop and listen to a few podcasts because they looked interesting and they've sat untouched for a week now, and the next week's were starting to download.

Anyway, Sundays have typically been pretty lonely days, because I imagine my family and friends living it up together as is normal on Sundays, and feel left out. Today, however, went by pretty quickly and wasn't too bad. Part of that was probably that I went the first half of the day thinking that this is the last Sunday that I will be in here. It's not true; I have one more, but it was after lunch by the time I figured that out, but one more Sunday is still not that big a deal. The fact is that I have one more week of things being normal and dull, then next Monday is another kinetics day (lots of blood draws) which will fly by pretty fast, then we leave Tuesday!

I can taste it. But for now, I think I will try not to think about that too much, and focus on my crosswords. Speaking of which, I've decided that I want to get good at crossword puzzles. This is after watching the documentary, Word Play, about a crossword puzzlers, and the scenes of Bill Clinton and Jon Stewart and some songwriters doing crossword puzzles made me want to be that smart. I had the admittedly-judgmental thought while watching Clinton do a New York Times crossword: "I don't think our current president could do a crossword puzzle." So I would love to feel smarter than the president of the United States, so I'm doing crosswords these days to fill the time while I listen to my books or podcasts.

Day 33

My parents visited today, which was awesome. At the same time, it was a little hard to concentrate. Hard to make eye contact. Basically, it was hard to actually be there, in that room, in the present, because their presence had me imagining the future when we won't see each other across a table in a sterile room, but we can actually sit down and talk. And at the same time, that reminded me that - in fact - I was still in PPD, in my faded violet shirt and scrubs. We talked about the future, about when I get out, about the Renaissance School next year. It was good, and I'm glad they came, and I was definitely in a good mood when they left. I just... was distracted. Too much going on to stay focused on anything for more than 10 seconds. Maybe I'm just ADD.

Lets see, I also read If Grace is True today, which I'm still thinking about quite a bit. I won't write about it though.

At my request, my parents brought me a notebook. I think I can easily incapsulate my recent struggle over the source of beautiful writing (which I pursued by trying to figure out what made beautiful writing different from practical writing) by describing where I write stuff. For most of my college experience, most anything I have written "creatively" I have started in a spiral-bound notebook and eventually transfered to a computer to be finished and polished. By the way, when I say "creatively", I mean created with a hope for and intentional pursuit of beauty over functionality. Most of my stories and poems were written in the margins around lecture notes and my notebooks are always very messy. A few pages of lecture notes, a few pages of sketches and doodles, an incomplete story, a few pages of personal reflection about something that was bothering me at the time. Studying lecture notes for a test was as much a review of everything that had happened to me and mattered to me in the past semester as it was a review of the important information, because my class information was tough to separate from everything else that I wrote. And every time I studied I found a story idea or poem prompt that I liked.

In the past year or so, as I have become more serious about the intentionality of that creation, I've tried to move away from that messy setup. For one thing, I have always wanted to write a journal so that I can look back on it later and know what an idiot I was then and how much wiser I am now. I also like to write because the act of writing about my day seems to focus my thoughts excellently, but I wanted an actual journal I could save and refer back to, and my messy spiral notebooks were not the austere image I wanted to present to my future self. Not to mention the educational value of only taking notes when I should be taking notes, and only reviewing those notes when I should be reviewing those notes. Also, I wanted a place to write creatively, intentionally, putting aside my school and inner dramas and writing something separate.

So, I've had journals for years, mostly blank, gifts from someone who thought I should be writing, but in the past year, I started writing quite a bit in my spirals, and maybe 4 months ago, I picked up one of my old journals and have gradually tried to get in the habit of writing in that instead of in my spiral notebook. I also bought a little unlined notebook that says "The Poet's Notebook" on the front, which looked cool, so I bought it. Inside the front cover of the "Poet's Notebook" it says, "Carry this around with you everywhere. Never have it out of reach, so that when you have something to write, you can write it immediately. When you can't think of anything to write, go back through your Poet's Notebook and find something you started but couldn't finish at the time and see if it strikes you now."

I got to the point near the end of last semester when I would sit in class during the 10 minutes after I had sat down but before the professor would arrive with three, count them, three, notebooks in front of me. My spiral, my journal, and my poetry book. I would be writing in my journal, then jump over to my poetry book for a while before the professor walked in and I would switch to my spiral. Now besides looking ridiculous, that works pretty good sometimes. But most of the time, I open up my journal with the thought, "Right now, I am going to write journal stuff," but that stuff didn't really interest me at the time. Or, what happens even more, I open up my poetry book with the thought, "Right now, I am going to write something... pretty."

A week ago, I was talking on the phone, and someone was giving me phone numbers, so I clicked my pen to write. Then I looked back and forth between my poetry book and my journal (the only two books I brought with me into PPD) with a little bit of alarm, wondering where I should write down phone numbers! I ended up opening Microsoft Word on the computer and typing them there.

This is what happens inevitably. I quit writing poetry or journal because I'm not sure what fits into each category and end up getting on the computer, ideally to write, but actually to browse the internet, and whatever I might write doesn't actually come from me, flowing through my fingers. (Yes, I'm old-fashioned about pen and paper. More old-fashioned than my parents.)

So now, wonderfully, I have a thick spiral-bound notebook. And do you know what I'm going to do with it? Everything. It's going to be wonderful. When someone gives a number, I'm going to write it there. When I listen to audiobooks, I will doodle on the pages and write down words I hear that sound cool or I don't know. (I hate to admit that most of my college notes consist of words I hear that sound cool or I don't know.) If, while I am doodling, one of those cool-sounding new words lends itself easily to another word that pops into my head and something starts to form itself on the page, I will make space for it and see what happens. And this notebook will be butt-ugly: smeared and torn and ragged and completely unorganized.

I know I'm only 21, but maybe I'm already too old a dog to learn this new trick. I'm coming into my senior year at UT, I guess how I've taken notes - how I have interacted with the world around me - for the past three years is just going to have to work. Like I said earlier, maybe I'm just a little ADD. I have heard more than once that my notebooks look like the work of someone who doesn't concentrate all too well.

So, it's 9:17 now. I have an hour and twelve minutes until snack and then a little over an hour until bedtime. I think I'm going to go listen to an audiobook and doodle in my notebook.