All-In [42197]
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Joined: 11/30/98
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Feelin' Alive
Feb 18, 2004, 12:00 AM
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Well, since I am actually trying (really, I am trying) to get back into thought-out, creative Tigernet posts and not stupid trite arguments, I couldn't help but free write a little about my latest trip to Clemson. Enjoy...
Feelin' Alive
I left this kid back in Clemson when I graduated.
He looks a lot like me but he's much more fun to be around. His hairline ain't receding yet, either.
I used to date this girl who got really ticked off when I'd go visit this fella. She really hated him because he makes me get wasted and flirt with 19-year-olds.
So, I did what any good, responsible man would do when placed in that situation.
I broke up with her.
Alright, so picture this: You're driving up I-26 in the pouring rain. You're stewing about your finances, the upcoming tax season, stinkin' McIntosh, your dog that just got run over, your job, your love life and some kid who just plagiarized on a project you spent two years rebuilding.
You aren't a human being. You're a country song from hell. You check your rearview mirror to make sure Alan Jackson's not in the back seat flippin' boogers on your windows.
You need whiskey and you need to feel alive. Stat. So where do you go?
To see that kid in Clemson.
The town's actually changed a bit since I left. They fancied it up with some trees and medians and an extra cow. But it's still the same. Tillman Hall still makes me smile, Death Valley still catches my breath and Tiger Town Tavern still makes me wish drink prices were this cheap everywhere else.
I hadn't been to Clemson since sometime back in September or October. The UGA game in August was the only home football game I could attend this year (boy, do I know how to pick em... went to the Wake game, too). Working on Saturdays kinda keeps you away from where you really want to be.
As all of you know, the surgeon general has ruled that that much time away from Clemson is hazardous to your health. Pregnant women should not spend that much time away from Clemson. Do not operate heavy machinery after spending that much time away from Clemson.
I used to go to Charleston to get away from some of the crazy stuff in Clemson (seems like child's play now). Now people in Charleston ask me why'd I'd ever want to go back to Clemson.
To see that kid, of course. And when I sat down with him this past weekend, I asked him what I needed to do. As always, he knew exactly what needed to be done to make me feel alive again. It was a deep, cleansing, soul-searching answer that would liberate me:
Go to Overtime with two good drinking buddies, two cute, snookered ADPis and drink til ya collapse.
Now, I can tell I've already lost some of y'all. You're already asking, "How can going to Clemson and getting trashed make you feel alive? What kind of stupid, childish, immature lifestyle is that? I fail to see how this post has a point or why you think this is important."
Well, my answer to you is simple. I'm a buffoon. Trying to question my buffoonery will only give you a nosebleed. And no, there isn't really a point, but I've got you reading this far, so I guess I'm doing something right.
Okay, so maybe there is a point. We all know why we love Clemson on the surface. The Tigers running down the Hill. Tailgating in a sea of orange. The alma mater and Tiger Rag. Paws everywhere we look. I don't have to explain that to you. You already know it.
And I really don't have to explain the rest of this to you, either. Because all of you left that kid behind at Clemson. Some of y'all left him at TTT, or TD's, while others left him at Lake Hartwell or Y Beach. I hope you didn't leave him at the library. He may have drank like a trout or he may have been an angel. But you left him somewhere in that beautiful town.
Going back to Clemson for a football game, or baseball weekend, or whatever sporting event, is always a joy. But sometimes I just like to go on an ordinary day in February and see it for what it is when it's just 20-year-old goofballs like I used to be.
And for me, that's sitting at a bar while the ADPi to my left is chugging more shots than me, and my buddy looks at me and says with all seriousness, "Take this shot or I will beat the hell out of you."
As hours pass by that seem like minutes, you're dancing to stupid songs, shooting a horrendous game of pool, smoking one too many cigarettes and laughing just a little too loud at nothing. Next thing you know, you're in a daze in the back seat of your Jeep and someone you've never met before is driving you home. Then you go back to your buddy's and finish off that bottle of Jack while watching Full Metal Jacket until 5 a.m.
How can you shoot unpleasant thoughts? Easy... you just don't lead them as much.
Then you wake up, wander around campus looking old in a nice shirt and tie, and then lose all your money in poker because your drunk friend who never wins suddenly sat on a horseshoe and wasn't bluffing after all.
Oh, yeah, the point I was trying to make? I forgot. But I drove back to Charleston yesterday and things didn't seem so bad anymore. I thanked that kid for a good time and told him I'd be back to see him in a few.
But he reminded me that although we have good times in Clemson, the Real World is where I belong. And things aren't that bad out there. Just come back and visit him for a couple of days when it gets a little rough. After all, there's something in those hills that makes you feel... well... alive again.
I guess maybe he was the one making the point, not me.
I'm sure you'll agree if you go see him sometime. Have you done it in a while? Maybe it's about time to schedule a weekend with him.
Cheers and peace,
Cata
[ This post was edited by the author on Wed Feb 18 13:22:16 EST 2004 ]
[ This post was edited by the author on Wed Feb 18 13:30:03 EST 2004 ]
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