The Rythym of the Night

I want to start today with a shout out to my bros Richard and Quinn down at Roanoke College, who are being blasted with work in their second semesters of senior year. At the very time when they should be maximizing their chilling out, they are beaten down under 15-page papers, hour-long oral presentations, and all other manner of terrible things. And I know they aren't alone. All over this country there must be thousands suffering the same fate, condemmed by an evil institution to servitide in the library. I don't know how much I can do, one man at a computer, but for all of you out there suffering this same fate, I recommend one thing: Rythym of the Night.

If you know the song, then are already happier than you were ten seconds ago. And if you don't know the song, I highly recommend you download the masterpiece by Debarge immediately. I really can't think of a situation to which it's not applicable. Take the sublime opening lines:

"When it feels like
The world is on your shoulders
And all of the madness
Has got you goin' crazy

It's time to get out
Step out into the street
Where all of the action
Is right there at your feet!"

So for those of you stuck in the library, or the computer lab, or some other dank, poorly lit cavern of despair, just listen to the words of El Debarge (meaning: "The Debarge"):

"I know a place where we can dance the whole night away
Underneath the electric staaaaaaaaars
Just come with me and we can shake it loose, right away
You'll be doin' fine once the music staaaaaaaaarts (oh!)"

And you will be doin' fine, if the music is "Rythym of the Night." You simply cannot be unhappy when listening to the song. And singing along is essential. Guys, this might require a few strategically placed rubber bands, because El Debarge is like Pavarotti in falsetto.

I wish I could do more for all of you out there, suffering in the times when you should be drinking life to the lees, but if listening to El Debarge sing in a voice that makes Michael Jackson sound like a three-pack-a-day-smoker doesn't lift your spirits, we're out of options. So keep your chin up. And if you know someone in this situation, make sure to send one up for him or her. I don't know what you'd send up, maybe a signal flare, but it won't hurt.

Me, I'm cruising. I only have class on Tuesday, which is pretty awesome. And none of my classes are what you would call "hard." Filmmaking, Japanese Pop Culture, Advanced Principles of Exercise, and the crown jewel of my schedule, the Hope Diamond if you will: Massage.

Yes, that's correct. I am taking a massage class. It's terrific. We show up, learn about anatomy, then cover our hands in oil and smear it all over each other's bodies. Well, maybe that's not quite accurate. Actually we've only done one day of hands on work so far, and it was rather tame. But the class is obviously terrific nonetheless.



I have run into one small problem in my class, however, which involves - what else? - a girl, Cassie. (Not her real name, of course. Her real name is Amanda). We've only had the class three times, but Cassie has taken a severe liking to me. "Alright you cocky bastard," you ask, "how do you know she likes you?" "Well," I respond. "I know because she's doing all the same idiot things I used to do to girls I liked, such as wait the leave class with them, even when I had no inkling of a reason to stick around."

I noticed Cassie's interest quickly, and did my best to dispel the attraction. I tried not being interesting, but let's be honest, that's like a fish trying not to swim. I also employed the "don't sit near her in class" technique and the "leave class without her technique," but to no avail.

It was ok for the first two classes (class is from 6 to 9 every Tuesday night), because we didn't do any hands-on work. I simply tried to give boring, uninteresting responses to her comments. I couldn't be a jerk, because you know how girls are, that would have just made her like me more. I considered just being a really nice guy, buying her lunch, carrying her bags, maybe even giving her a compliment, because that has never failed to deter girls in the past, but I thought it would be risky with her. Since she'd already decided to like me, being nice might just lead her on.

But this week's class presented a new problem, becuase we were about to start hands-on work. There are six tables for twenty people, so you work in groups, and I just knew Cassie would try to arrange things to be in my group. So when I walked into class I sat down on the other side of the room from her. We exchanged a greeting, and then I avoided talking to her, but after five minutes, she picked up her stuff and moved to the seat next to me! That move was both subtle and brilliant.

And sure enough, when we brought out the tables we ended up working at the same one, along with a football player named Derrick, which is appropriate since he's the same approximate size as an offshore drilling platform. Nice guy though.

We only worked on one part of the body, the lower leg. The teacher showed us the basic strokes of Swedish massage, and then we worked on each other. So of course my rubbing Carrie's calf didn't make her any less attracted to me. In fact, odds are it had just the opposite effect. Damn my magic hands.

At the end of class the teacher showed us how to balance each other's Chakras. It's an energetic thing, and some people buy into it and others don't. I'm not sure either way, but I can guarantee that you get to touch the other person's butt. So there are obviously situations where it's good, but this was not one of them. God forbid I line up Cassie's chakras and then her energy becomes inexorably tied to mine, or something like that. Fortunately, Cassie didn't seem quite comfortable with the idea of having her chakra's all in a line, so I gladly worked on other people.

Class ended, and then came the crucial moment, because I must at all costs avoid walking out with this girl. You understand, it's not that she's a terrible person, but I don't want to lead her on, and the surest way to avoid that is not to speak with her. I always talk to the teacher after class, mostly to get more information, but with the ulterior goal of delaying long enough that Cassie has to leave. If she talks to the teacher, I take off when she can't follow. What a cruel world.

So Tuesday I was talking to Dr. Warnock, and she left the room. "Oh, thank God," I thought, "I'm in the clear." The good doctor left as I was still getting my coat on, and as soon as he stepped out the door CARRIE CAME BACK IN! SHE'D BEEN WAITING FOR ME THE WHOLE TIME! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

It was like in horror movies, where you think the insane-psycho-killer-clown is dead, and you finally let out your breath and start to relax, thinking the terror is finally over, then all of a sudden he comes back to life and removes someone's eyes with a wine opener. I knew I was in trouble; she hadn't waited around to talk about the weather. I could feel the blood drain from my face as she spoke:

"Hey, I was just wondering if you wanted to get some ice cream or something sometime?"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I was trapped. My answer was "no," but how could I say that? She'd essentially asked, "Do you want to do something sometime?" What was I going to say? "Sorry, I can't. I'm busy. Always."

Of course, even in my panic I probably could have come up with a better answer than "sure." But that's what I said. "Sure." As if nothing could be better. I did manage to make a small save, and schedule it for next Tuesday after class, and thus avoid the weekend and make it a little more casual. But I imagine that now she's eagerly looking forward to her little date Tuesday, while I'm frantically running around asking all my friends for a way out.

The overwhelming advice has been "tell her you have a girlfriend." I think it's terrific advice as well, and really the only problem is that it is not, technically, true. The flipside is that, while I am a big advocate of honesty, sometimes the truth does hurt. Oh well, I suppose I'm already an asshole, I might as well be a liar.

Speaking of which, as you are all no doubt aware, next Tuesday is: VALENTINE'S DAY! I'm excited. I try to break at least one girl's heart every year around this time.
Actually, I think it'll actually work well, because I can say, "Cassie, I'm so sorry, but I forgot that today was going to be Valentine's day, so of course I need to be with the girl I'm seeing." Then maybe I can make a sexually-suggestive arm thrust to really drive the point home.

Will I hurt her? It seems inevitable. But also necessary. We've all been there, and we all wish we'd been let down a little easier, or a little earlier. So I'm not looking forwards to next week, but it has to be done. Especially because in class, we're moving to the upper leg, i.e. the thigh. And if my hands go anywhere above her knee, then I'll have to drop out of school and move to Micronesia to get her to stop coming after me.

At times life seems so unfair. "Why, God?" I ask myself. "Why give me an easy treasure, but in a box I don't want to open?" Yes, it does seem unjust. But then I think, maybe it's exactly fair. After all, as I am suffering now, so have I made others suffer. Perhaps this situation is my punishment. As is I have a few days to practice my lines before my big Valentine's day performance. It's a bit stressful, and I'm still talking the situation out with my friends. I suppose I should take my own advice and listen to the true sage: The Degarge (Oh!)

"Feel the beat and the rhythym of the night
Dance into the morning light
Forget about the worries on your mind
You can leave them all behind
Feel the beat and the rhythym of the night
Oh oh, the rhythym of the night"