Tales of Trekkies

My magazine writing teacher talked for an hour tonight, unfurling a long, red carpet of journalism credits that included a stint in Chicago where he would go to the morgue at 4 a.m. to get list of who had died "mysteriously." Like hits by the mob. He and his "team" were the ones that broke the scary Tylenol poisonings. He also told us that once during a bagel run at dawn in New York, he bumped into Rudy Giuliani, walking quickly and quietly without his bodyguards around, assumedly slinking back from his ole mistress's home. "So, you witnessed Giuliani's walk of shame?" I blurted. A proud moment.

Then I got the following text message from Justin, which I have to share because it made me, like, totally "ROFL":

"Heard about an incident where a man had ten gallons of peaches stolen. Sheriff Allen has put out an APB on Brer Rabbit."

Sometimes, when no one is around, I shed a quiet tear for Anson County. Oh Anson, my Anson.

One of the MFA students, "Paul," told a great story the other night, and since I'm fried from eight hours of class, this is how it goes.

For curiosity's sake, he and a couple friends went to a giant sci-fi convention in NYC. When they got there, they snuck their way into one of the forums, led by some actress from Star Trek Voyager. During the talk, she kept dropping the name "Michael Dorn" (who played WORF on Next Generation, as I'm sure you all know). Suddenly, the perfect opportunity dawned on Paul.

When the speaker opened it up for questions from the audience, he walked up to the mic and said, "Uh, who is Michael Dorn?" Immediately, he said the crowd began to boo. BIG TIME. "I mean, my own friends felt peer pressured into boo-ing along," he said.

"Some guy dressed like a hobbit and carrying, like, ten cameras around his neck actually made the SIGN OF THE CROSS at me. Then, out of nowhere, someone yells, 'Amateur!'" Paul and Co. managed to flee through the back door before things got too ugly.

So, this semester I'll be struggling against similar imagined scenarios within my own program.

(SEGWAY!)

For the next four months, I can already feel what a struggle my brain will go through just to concentrate and focus every day. While I feel constantly pulled in different directions by new stimuli (The Center for Diversity, the Emerson radio station), I still lack a real community, which makes it all seem a little strange and... muddled. Hopefully I'll begin to experience more camaraderie soon. Boston: familiar city in new context, where the average age is under 30 but the subway closes at midnight.