Blog 10: And on to Plan B

NOTE: So, unfortunately, my original idea of interviewing my friend's Satanist aunty in Yakima didn't work out...

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It's four o'clock in the afternoon. The sun is out, the sky is clear and blue, the wind is light. Spring is finally here in Forest Grove, Oregon. College students are gathered in bunches on the green grass of the quad, lounging around in shorts, tanks, and slippers. Among them is 22-year-old transfer student Zammir Ibrahim, who is sitting off to the side in the shade of the Walter Hall building. Better known as Tommy, he is eloquently dressed in dark jeans, a patterned shirt, covered shoes, and Ray Ban sunglasses.

What's the first thing that I ask him? "Why are you sitting in the shade?"

Now, let's get something straight. About fifteen minutes prior to meeting up with him, he called me to let me know where he was. I invited him to come over to my dorm room, but he said that he wasn't welcome there. What? That was the first I'd heard of that. Did he get into a fight with one of my roommates again? But no, it turned out he was just joking around. Typical Tommy. He insisted we do the interview outside since it was a nice day out. But here he is, sitting in the shade. Again, I say, typical Tommy.

Blog 9: Zoning Out

I'm sitting in the UC by the alumni room with some of my friends, absentmindedly eating my loco moco. The place smells like fried food mixed with some sort of meaty scent. The noise around me is fading in and out, coherent words slipping into nothing more than the wah waaah wah wah babble from Peanuts. I'm too busy focusing on all of the shit that I have to get done within the next few days. Too preoccupied with being bitter about the fact that I don't feel any relief and freedom whatsoever even though luau is finally done and over with.

Gus: Wubin was talking about fungus wah waaah wah wah waaaah wah waah he said, "I am fun guy." I am fungi. Wah waaah wah wah.

So I have to remember to register tomorrow morning at seven. I have to do my animation assignment and five-page essay by Thursday. I have to figure out what's up with my interview with Isaac's aunty in Yakima for my literary profile... Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?

I take a bite of my loco moco as it hits me.

"Crap!" I say out loud to myself. "I still have to do my eavesdropping assignment!"

"What?" Dillon asks me, his forkful of RFoC Mongolian Grill noodles hovering in front of his mouth.

"I have to eavesdrop on a conversation and write about what I hear," I explain. "This guy in my creative writing class told us a story about when he was on the bus in Hillsboro at, like, 10 o'clock at night and there were a bunch of Narcotics Anonymous people talking about their addiction displacement."

"Their what?" Dillon looks confused.

"Addiction displacement. These guys were talking about how they would fuck anyone or anything that can be fucked."

"Oh, well that's interesting."

And cue noise fade.

I cut a piece of my hamburger with the side of my fork then scoop up some rice, egg, and mushroom. Tastes like home. I glance to my left, out the slightly tinted windows, and smile briefly at the sight of the blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and green trees.

Dillon: Wah waaah wah wah waaaah wah waah yeah, you know, I bet they fuck cactuses.

Tommy: You mean cacti?

God, I really want to watch Melissa McCarthy's newest Saturday Night Live but I have too much stuff I need to do. No. Priorities, Kellianne. Get your priorities straight! Saturday Night Live will always be there.

Ching: Wah waaah wah wah would they fuck cactuses?

Tommy: Have you ever felt the inside of a cactus?

Ching: What? No.

Tommy: Then don't judge.

Ching: I would never want to fuck a cactus. Wah waaah wah wah.

Why are my friends so weird? 

Gus: Wah waaah wah wah waaaah wah waah. I am a fun guy. We are all fun guy. But you know what? I'm funGUS.

...what...

Blog 8: A Familiar Stranger

It's luau week at Pacific University and all the members of Nā Haumāna O Hawai‘i are gathered in the Stoller Center gymnasium for rehearsal. There are a bunch of people I recognize, have seen in passing, but most I have never been formerly introduced to. They're all spread out across the plastic red bleachers, their backpacks and books and laptops strewn around them as they watch the ʻaparima and ʻōteʻa Tahitian dance performances. When the final song ends, I can almost imagine everyone present letting out a deep breath, one they had been holding since the beginning of the first run-through.

We are given a ten-minute break before we are to convene on the stage for the instructors' feedback. The freshmen sitting several feet away from me immediately strike up a conversation, while the sophomores in front of me are typing away on their MacBooks, doing homework. On my left is a familiar Japanese guy with black hair cut straight across the middle of his forehead. Rectangular, silver-framed glasses sit on top the bridge of his nose. He is dressed in a black surf brand t-shirt—the specific brand name escapes me—and a pair of board shorts. I've seen him in Gilbert before, and sometimes I run into him and his girlfriend—or whom I assume is his girlfriend—around campus. He seems goofy and friendly, definitely nice enough to not reject my attempt to interview him. I repeat that to myself in my head as I move closer toward him, scooting awkwardly across the bleacher.

"Is it okay if I ask you some questions? Sorry, it's for my writing class."

"Okay."

"I'm Kelli... What's your name?"

"My name is DreeeEEWWWWW. Oyama. Drew Oyama is my full name!"

With his enthusiastic response, I feel myself loosen up a bit as I try not to laugh. I glance at the stage where the football players are gathering to practice the haka, and then back at him.

"What dances are you doing for luau?"

"Why, I am doing kane 'auana two."

I think he's going to say more so I wait... But he doesn't. "Is that it?"

"Yes..." he says.

Nodding, I move on to my next question. "If you could be any animal, what would you be an—"

"A koala!"

I pause, surprised at his immediate response. His girlfriend, who is sitting near us, laughs. Drew joins in with her and I can't help but smile.

"What do you have planned for after-luau festivities?"

"Oh gosh, I don't know. Hey Alyssa, what are we gonna do after luau?" he calls out to his girlfriend over the loud conversations around us.

"Go eat dinner!" she says happily.

He turns back to me. "Go eat dinner. Asian food! With her family." And he points at Alyssa.

"Alright, so 420 is coming up. What are you doing for 420?"

"I am actually playing in a frisbee scrimmage. Funny story."

"What about in the evening?"

"I'll be watching Numbers on Saturday evening."

"On 420? You're gonna watch Numbers on 420?"

"Yep."