The other day, Rob and I were noticing all the algae growing on the pond and commenting how that is sort of a metaphor for our Kalamazoo experience thus far. It's been getting so gross that we have closed the blinds in the living room so we won't have to look at it.
Sigh.
So it dawned on me that as much as I hate being here, I pretty much had to leave Chicago. I realized this the other night when I got to thinking about some people I had met toward the end. I'd had my share of disappointments in the social circuit I was in, as well as my share of feelings of betrayal. While I realize intellectually that they weren't as bad as I made them out to be, the translating intellect to sentiment has never been my strong point.
I suppose it's good that I distanced myself from the people that inspired this, but I feel pretty shitty that I had become so paranoid that I actually started judging everyone's actions by the behavior of a few.
I suppose if I didn't blow these things out of proportion, I would still be living there.
And it seemed like every little thing conspired to set me on edge. Well, the bad living situation would have changed and I still kick myself for not at least looking for a place in Ravenswood or Roscoe Village or something. I think that would have made life so much more enjoyable. We were getting ripped off so profoundly for what we were getting that I think we lost sight of what we could find.
But that doesn't change the fact of the whole job situation. I mean, I have a much sweeter deal than I ever would have had in Chicago. I'm going to be making $10.50/hr, they'll work around my school schedule and I actually get benefits! I could never find anything that sweet in Chicago, nor find a quality education for the price I'm getting it here. So I know the truth of the matter is, no matter what else, I would have been working shitty and unstimulating jobs, and unable to go to school to do what I really want, and would have still been frustrated and on edge all the time, so I guess this is good.
We still plan on visiting Chicago and Detroit regularly, and I can still fend off some of this small town frustration and I guess I can use these next couple of years to sort through all the anxiety issues that made living in a big city so damned unmanageable.
I don't expect the social experience to be all that great here, but I can live with that.
Well, aside from the friends we already knew here, I haven't really found anyone I can relate to terribly well. Heh, in some instances that is putting it mildly. I do not relate to the subdued, sheltered mindset of a small town, and nor do they relate to mine.
Thursday, Rob and I went to Grand Rapids to get a tour of Kendall College. It made me very happy. We drove in around two o clock. We both, while recognizing that Grand Rapids is something of a dinky little city compared to Chicago or Detroit, that there was at least the presence of urban decay. And, of course, those old buildings I love so much, so that is nice. We walked around downtown, which kind of reminded me a little of downtown Houston, only smaller. It had that same vibe of decrepit buildings and winos amidst art and culture. And, of course, parking lots. Can't forget the parking lots. So we walked around until it was time for the appointment.
I was very impressed with Kendall. I absolutely adored the campus. Well the campus was just one building, which I really dug, and it was just *filled* with students work and everything I saw was incredibly good. It had an environment that seemed very conducive to creativity. Then I met with the admissions counselor. He was a decent enough guy from what I could tell. He seemed to very much know what he was talking about and didn't get thrown by the "tough" questions. I asked him about the placement rate for my program, and he told me it was 94%, and the placement for the school as a whole was 93%. I was beyond impressed. That is virtually unheard of in an art and design school. Additionally, the tuition is very reasonable: $9,000 a year and they have a lot of scholarships with the average scholarship being 3,000. As we walked around and talked, the man obviously knew his art. He even knew some bizarre Italian cult cinema. Not only did this give a positive impression on him and the school, but it filled me with relief. This was the first chance I'd had to truly discuss cult films since we moved to Western Michigan.
The equiptment and software was very new and up to date, too. But the biggest selling point for me was Rob's reaction: Rob was impressed. Now, see, you have to understand that Rob is of the opinion that all art schools are a gigantic waste of time and money. This is pretty much across the board. But Rob actually thought that this school would be worth going to, and was something of an exception to that rule.
Well, this gave me a much greater sense of direction with school. I would take the classes that I need to build up my portfolio so I could get in to Kendall, get the scholarship, and then I would be able to come out of the whole experience with a real edge at getting the kind of job that I want. This made me very happy.
We drove the dull commute down route 131 back to Kalamazoo. Rob made the comment "I don't know what scares me more: all the farms we pass, or the fact that the closer we get to home, the more we see." I had to agree.
That night, we went to see a blues band. N8 was there. N8 brought his neighbor, which would prove to put an interesting twist on the matter. We got to talking about drugs, which he was fine until Rob and I made a joke about doing coke. Now, neither of us have ever been cokeheads. We both have a "once a year" binge rule. But, in the year and a half we have been together, we have never done it in that time. I have only done it something like three or four times in my life and the last time was in '98. But, as I said, it was mostly a joke. Well, this neighbor got all bent out of shape about it, giving this speech about Columbians getting killed over it. Although he did not smoke marijauna, he did not have a problem with that. I pointed out that people get killed over marijuana in Mexico (not to mention in the US) and it was a double standard. He did not seem to care for that. (There seems to be this hippie misconception that certain drugs are inherently peaceful while others are inherently violent. It's complete bullshit. If something is a black market cash crop, there is going to be violence associated with it, plain and simple.) Well, I turned to N8 and we got into a really cool conversation about the nuances of racial politics, while Rob and the neighbor guy continued with the discussion. Well, at one point we wound up back in the conversation with Rob and the neighbor. The neighbor made a comment to me about the brutal racism of the south, because of the plantation history. Now, that got me excited. See, folks in the north like to point out how racist the south is and ignore the rampant racism in the north. Especially in the midwest. While I do not deny the good ol boy network in the south, and I saw my share of fucked up shit, I have never lived anyplace as racist as the midwest. I heard comments in bars in Indiana and Wisconsin that would get you knocked out cold if you said them in many southern cities.
Well, I proceeded to tell this fellow he was full of shit, and why. Now, mind you, I am a pretty passionate and opinionated person. I consider this a good thing. I also have a brutal grasp of logic when I get into an intellectual or political discussion. I was also drunk. I may have been pointing when I made a point, but hell, I do that in some of the most amicable conversations, especially after I've been drinking. Hey, I'm Italian and I do in fact talk with my hands. Most every conversation I have uses hand gestures. Well, this fellow took offense to that.
So he bitched at me for pointing and said that was a fighting gesture. I said, no, I was just into the discussion and that was what I did. He said it was a fighting gesture and I knew it, and at one point said "come on! Bring it on! Bring it on!" Well this was just ridiculous, I told him to get over himself and make his fucking point already. But no. He wouldn't shut up about it. He started telling me I was raising my voice unnecessarily. I told him that was ridiculous, we were in a bar for fuck's sake, and Rob jumped in and made the point that if he had a legitimate argument to make that he wouldn't be arguing over the semantics of pointed fingers and raised voices. That he needed to make his point. Then, at one point, one of us asked him, if he was such the expert on the social conditions and racism, if he had ever even lived someplace that wasn't essentially white suburbia. We asked him if he had ever lived in a ghetto. "Yeah!" He said. "I lived in the ghetto of Grand Rapids." Well, we laughed at him and Rob pointed out he was from Detroit. This guy said it didn't matter, that he was the only white guy on his block. (So fucking what? You were the only white guy on your block? That makes it a ghetto? What a racist little shit.) We just started laughing at this and he got really mad, and stormed out of the bar.
Heh. Wow.
So we went back to talking with N8 and had a pleasant evening from then on.
I suppose there's a ray of hope to all of this. After all, our styles may make us some enemies in this town, but it's all with people like that guy, who I would never want as a friend anyways. So, in the very least, if we provoke people, at least their anger will be a source of amusement to us...