Archive for March, 2010

look at the bud(s)!

March 22, 2010

I’m watching Donnie Darko, Director’s Cut and mulling over the last few days. It finally hit me three o’clock Saturday morning. I wept, laughed, asked why, and got no clear answer. Nine hours before the equinox, I had an awakening.

That day I drove to Franklin, that night I took some medicine, and Sunday I delivered in the rain. Asleep again.

It’s a leap of faith, I guess, to believe he never intended in his heart to harm anyone. Everyone that knows him better than I do seems to think so.

How much did he know in advance? In his last seconds, could he see the effect he would create in the lives of the people around him, who loved him? Did he sacrifice himself for us? For anything?

When I wrote on Thursday that “he had all kinds of ideas in his head that he wasn’t sure what to do with,” I’m not so sure I was right. I barely knew the guy. Perhaps he and his friend had a mission.

What they left behind is less of a message and more of a mystery.

The answer is showing itself in bits and pieces. I’ll never really know.

march madness

March 18, 2010

Yesterday seemed like any other day, save for it being St. Patrick’s Day, which people in this country seem to either love or hate. (I’m one-eighth Irish by paternal lineage, so I feel a tinge of pride in getting shit-faced drunk and singing songs by myself. Others may not be so enthusiastic.)

Something happened yesterday, however, that is so bizarre I haven’t even been able to accept it yet. It seems like a hoax to me, somehow. But the news organizations agree, two 20-year-olds from Brentwood, Tennessee robbed a bank in Gallatin and ran from the police, in addition to firing shots at them. The young man who owned the getaway car was Jonathan Ryan Skinner, a meteorology student here at Western Kentucky. I had two classes with him this semester, and two last semester. He gave me a ride to Tennessee one Friday night in early February, so I could pick up my old car to sell. I have ridden in the very Toyota they used as their getaway vehicle.

Ryan wasn’t the one who dressed up like a leprechaun and robbed the First State Bank (which happens to be in a neighborhood where I worked as a surveyor a few summers ago)—that was David Cotton, who also went to Brentwood High. It was Ryan’s car they used; I recognize it in the photos. They drove into a field outside Gallatin and fled on foot. Police say Cotton committed suicide—then Skinner picked up the gun, and pointed it toward the officers—so he was shot, and killed.

This is too much. We were just starting to be friends. I could tell he was different, that he had all kinds of ideas in his head that he wasn’t sure what to do with. I sat next to him Tuesday in the Met Lab, and he asked me if it was too late to drop a class. Yesterday we had exams in both our classes, Dynamic and Synoptic, and he was absent, so I figured he had gone ahead and dropped those courses. I didn’t find out until today that he was already dead.

So, Ryan Skinner, whom I barely knew, rest in peace. I can’t fathom what drove you to take part in such a reckless scheme. I guess I don’t even understand why you were interested in the weather, like me. May you find your way back into the light.

Back into the light.

March 2, 2010

Ah, I’ve been busy. It’s a good feeling. No time to sit around worrying about things you can’t change.

Had some interesting runs tonight. Went to the Alpha Delta Pi house three times, first for two orders, then another, then I forgot the sweet tea and said “I can bring it over ASAP” but she was like “Oh, it’s fine” like it was nothing and I said “Are you sure?” and she said “Yeah.” Then she called the restaurant and asked where her sweet tea was.

Then there was an order for Antonio, a cook in the kitchen, whom I didn’t know because I’ve only been there 2 weeks, I barely know the names of all the managers and deliverers. When I got to his house he wasn’t there, so I went about my run, delivering the other orders. Then Shaun called my phone and said Antonio called to say he was back home and to drop it off when I could, which I was gonna do. Finally got Antonio’s order to him and he hands me a twenty—I awkwardly hesitate—”You want some change?”—like he’s a bum on the street—he asks for two dollars back—keeps asking “That cool?”—even offers the whole twenty like I seemingly wanted—I stand by his original tip—though as a coworker, I feel he shouldn’t have to tip me—I just didn’t know his name, and made a mess of social graces.

A super intoxicated female called asking about the Mariah’s 30th Anniversary 30% off dine-in deal, if it could be applied toward delivery. Phil had to explain to her it only applied to dine-in orders. I ended up delivering her order, and she introduced me to her parents and asked me in slurred words “Why can’t I celebrate Mariah’s 30th Anniversary at home? I’m kind of drunk” and I said “I wish I could make the rules…You should have gotten drunk at the restaurant.” Really.

All these things are learned. I’m catching up.