She’s the worst kisser I’ve ever experienced. Her tongue thrusts into my mouth and wags back and forth like a dog’s tail. Her lips draw away from mine repeatedly so that I never know quite when to end it, and each time she makes suction, creating an audible pop as if she were Bugs Bunny. I want to move on to parts of her face and neck as my hands explore her hair and body, but she has made things so wet that I feel like I’m just slobbering. So I stay put. But in the middle of it all I begin to look at her and things become enjoyable. The way her face smiles and her eyes rest peacefully in their little slits with her head tilted upward is my validation. A special light comes across her in this moment, reminding me that it doesn’t matter if she has poor grammar, listens to Tool or can’t even bring herself to read for pleasure. She confides in me with her mother’s recent death, her past drug habits, her attempt at online dating. A casual exchange with a 22-year-old girl. She sends a dozen texts a day and I tell her she makes me happy.
For the first time, today I went to a meeting for an environmental group called Sustain Mizzou. Since first attending this school, I’ve heard many things about Sustain Mizzou, and the rumors were all verified upon first inspection. I walked in and found 20-25 bright, energetic, young and attractive citizens wearing TOMS, socializing and chewing granola. Three beautiful women said hi to me within fifteen seconds of my entrance. I sat in the front corner (sitting in the front row at events is something I do often, but I allow myself the corner when I’m feeling shy) and witnessed a brainstorming session on ways to improve recycling campaigns on campus.
We need to step up the presence of our paper recycling receptacles and place them wherever students roam, not just next to newspaper stands.
Why can’t Pomodoro serve its food with plastic, washable plates like other vendors?
What would really have the most sustainable impact in the Student Center would be the implementation of a food waste composting system.
A second microwave in Memorial Union would relieve the one already there of its ever-present line, encouraging students to bring their own lunches instead of buying them, thus decreasing waste generated by food vendors.
Our total recycling volume might not look like much now, but if our receptacles outnumbered the trashcans on campus then perhaps students would feel more surrounded by our sustainable efforts and feel forced to recycle.
I didn’t have any ideas.
An Asian boy named Steve said hi to me as he passed by my seat, but by the time I asked how he was doing he was out of earshot. I know Steve from another student organization, and he’s one of the most negative people I know, so in a small way I was a little relieved that he was there to break up the monotony. An Asian girl (whose name I don’t remember) introduced herself next and after I explained that although I’m a senior, I won’t graduate for almost another two years, she said variations of “There’s nothing wrong with that,” three times, each time softer as her eyes drifted away.
Two women stepped to the front of the room and passed out pieces of paper with spaces for our names and contact information. They explained that they represented a political advocacy group aiming for clean energy use in the United States, and that what they had given us were, in fact, petition slips for their latest appeal to President Obama. I listened to the points they made about how destructive the burning of coal is to the environment, and why everything both rational and human in me should sign this slip, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It reminded me of when I attended Amnesty International meetings in high school - I would listen to 10-minute presentations about social justice advocates being held hostage in foreign countries, but when the letters were prompted I could never get past the “Dear Mahmoud,” part. It’s not that I didn’t sympathize with the plights of the prisoners, or that I don’t hate the way capitalism spurs the destruction of the environment, but attaching my name to any cause is something I rarely feel comfortable with, especially if my entire understanding of said cause has been spoonfed to me in the preceding ten minutes.
The president of Sustain Mizzou, who was actually the main motivator for my attendance, lives by the Herman Hesse quote, “Only the thoughts that we live out have any value.” I would love to live by this quote also, and I greatly admire her for doing so, but the older I get the more of a lurking suspicion I have that there’s a part of me that cannot attach itself to thoughts, or at least thoughts that would have value if lived out. I can attend meetings and I can volunteer and I can dedicate my life to making forests healthy, but in the end I know that it’s all for me. I felt guilty at tonight’s meeting because I knew that I was there for selfish reasons, and that while the people around me and their clothes and attitudes felt so real, the ideas they were writing on the chalkboard just felt like another amusing distraction for me - a list of noble endeavors to mask my obsession with the ephemeral.
Argument: As of 4 March 1999, the question of defining human life in utero is hopelessly vexed. That is, given our best present medical and philosophical understandings of what makes something not just a living organism but a person, there is no way to establish at just what point during gestation a fertilized ovum becomes a human being. This conundrum, together with the basically inarguable soundness of the principle “When in irresolvable doubt about whether something is a human being or not, it is better to not kill it,” appears to me to require any reasonable American to be Pro-Life. At the same time, however, the principle “When in irresolvable doubt about something, I have neither the legal nor the moral right to tell another person what to do about it, especially if that person feels that s/he is not in doubt” is an unassailable part of the Democratic pact we Americans all make with one another, a pact in which each adult citizen gets to be an autonomous moral agent; and this principle appears to me to require any reasonable American to be Pro-Choice.
This reviewer is thus, as a private citizen and an autonomous agent, both Pro-Life and Pro-Choice. It is not an easy or comofortable position to maintain. Every time someone I know decides to terminate a pregnancy, I am required to believe simultaneously that she is doing the wrong thing and that she has every right to do it. Plus, of course, I have both to believe that a Pro-Life + Pro-Choice stance is the only really coherent one and to restrain myself from trying to force that position on other people whose ideological or religious convictions seem (to me) to override reason and yield a (in my opinion) wacko dogmatic position. This restraint has to be maintained even when somebody’s (to me) wacko dogmatic position appears (to me) to reject the very Democratic tolerance that is keeping me from trying to force my position on him/her; it requires me not to press or argue or retaliate even when somebody calls me Satan’s Minion or Just Another Shithead Male, which forbearance represents the really outer and tooth-grinding limits of my own personal Democratic Spirit.
-David Foster Wallace, Authority and American Usage