Another Moloko, My Starry-Eyed Droog

Tonight's post comes to you from Manakin-Sabot, Virginia, the humble stomping grounds of the ever-amazing Alexander Keevil! Ian, Catherine, Alexander and I are here for APO Sectionals at the University of Richmond (Get Caught In the Web...of SERVICE!). Philip's here to attend Sectionals and also acquire a unicycle. Which is awesome.

I have lots of respect for people who take the time to learn eccentric skills such as this. I took juggling classes over one summer and got fairly decent, the caveat being that I could only handle things that fell slowly, like tissues. But man, wouldn't it be sweet if I knew how to juggle for real? Or ride a unicycle? Or, like, breathe fire? One's immediate reaction may be "these things don't serve any practical purpose. Wouldn't you rather learn how to make sound investments or use a compass?" To those people I say don't come crying to me when you have to eat your way through a wall of swords and all you've got is that cute little book about knot-tying.

Well that was a random little tangent, wasn't it? In either case, I guess my most eccentric skill at this point is my ability to drive buses. Granted, I'm not amazing at it, but if a bus needs moving, or, say, if I'm riding a bus down a Los Angeles speedway and the bus driver is accidentally killed by a paranoid fugitive who gets spooked by a cop that's trying to explain that there's a bomb on the bus, I'm your man. I'm actually really enjoying my job with UTS. Well, at least the actual elements of service. This morning I woke up with the sudden chilling realization that my alarm didn't go off and I was already 10 minutes late for my shift, and that wasn't as fun. Once I'd driven across town and slapped myself awake, however, things got really great. I love the people that I drive around. In our fast-paced society I think it's easy to fall into a behavior where we drift past each other without a word. We must come across hundreds of people a day and yet we're so frightened to step out of our boxes and make friends with someone new.

I really try t break that during my shifts. If it's just me and someone else on my bus, or basically if someone's just close enough to have a conversation with me, I give 'em a little prod to talk. "Where are you going today?" "How's your day going?" "Busy out tonight, isn't it?". Something simple like that. I can say with full sincerity that I've never regretted initiating one of these conversations. I get to learn where people are from and where they're going. I learn about their hopes, fears, and everything in between. One woman I started talking with asked me what it was like to fly a spaceship. This may be my favorite conversation so far, because I actually more than often imagine I'm behind the steering gauge the Millennium Falcon, the Enterprise or Serenity, transporting passengers on their way to the next spaceport or terraformed moon. I wanted to believe she could read my mind and knew that's how I kept things interesting. Maybe she did. People are special like that.

I learned about a really interesting society of folks just recently for my presentation in my Anthropology of Reproduction class. They're called the !Kung, and they're a nomadic culture that lives in the Kalahari desert. A lot of people know them for the "clicking" consonant in their language (signified by an exclamation point (again, awesome)), and their nomadic lifestyle combined with the harsh conditions of their homeland have shaped them into some of the toughest people on the planet. Their women literally keep working until the day they give birth. And, when they finally do, the sneak away from the village and give birth alone, without any pain-meds, right out in the bush. Basically, these are people that you don't want to screw with. If you want to learn more about them, visit wikipedia. If you want to make fun of their clicking consonant, may God protect you.

I think my favorite name for a band ever is actually "!!!". They say you can pronounce it with any three sounds. From here on out I'm opting for the clicking noise. The best name I've ever come up with for a band was "The Benevolent Dictators". In high school I was in a band called "His Boy Elroy", also an awesome name. But that's a story for another time.

The other night I was given the name "Milky" by Shannon, the waitress at St. Maarten's. She's come to call me Milky because I always order milk with my buffalo wings, and I'm not old enough to buy beer from her yet. Also when I drink milk it makes me kinda feel delightfully insane like Alex in A Clockwork Orange. And it's still the best drink in the world for bubble-blowing. Frankly, I think the name is awesome. I'm hoping I might see it on my mug there one day. I feel like if I have a nickname there after only three times of going I've got a pretty good foot in the door for a mug at some point. In the meantime I'm just going to enjoy the back-and-forths.