The last bubble of the Scantron sheet I filled in was a 'D'. I remember that with absolute clarity, because it was the final question of the final paper of my freshman year. What was the main argument behind the Pennsylvanian prison system, they ask. Humans are social animals, and putting them in isolation was a punishment because it deprives them the chance to be social, I confidently answer. Whether that's actually correct is beyond my concern because I'm finally done with my first year of college.
It feels appropriate that my final paper required me to do a lot of reading on prisons. Trapped in my room in self-imposed isolation, force-feeding myself hours upon hours of prison facts. I almost feel as if I could relate to the horror stories so vividly described in my readings. Research shows that just ten days in isolation was enough to cause negative psychological effects on a prisoner. I think they were able to last that long because they didn't have to read about it. Ten hours spent on 'Entering the Gates' was enough to do me in. I spent two nights in a row having nightmares about prisons and waking up wondering if I was still wearing that horrible orange jumpsuit. That part's the worst, I think. You knowingly impose a color on him that just clashes with his natural skin-tone, he's gonna snap. Some of the prisoners' mental state deteriorated to a point where they started flinging feces at guards just for any form of human communication. 'Come on, play with me! Let's throw my bodily excretions around, it'll be fun!'
As per tradition, the first song I always listen to after my exam season is Mariah Carey's 'I Am Free'. It goes, "Once, I was a prisoner..." (What's with the recurring theme of prisons, it's haunting me!) A mere 9 months after I first started college, I suddenly found that I wasn't a freshman anymore. To put it in completely unnecessary dramatic terms, I had gone from fearing the unknown abyss, to slowly feeling my way through the darkness, to finding a way to stand on my own two feet, to realizing that I had -surprise, surprise- survived my very first (triumphant) year. I had gotten an AB for French, As for Theater and Music, and hopefully something decent for my just-completed Criminal Justice. Je peux parler un peu francais maintenant! Hourra!
Now what lies ahead is the monstrous task of packing up my room in preparation of my big move. Damian, of course, would be joining me here in US soon. We'd be off for our grand tour of the States, culminating in the widely anticipated Celine Dion concert in Vegas. Come to think of it, there's less than a month before I see my goddess with my own eyes. I don't even want to imagine how I'll react right now, I mean, how does someone act in the presence of god herself... Cry and promptly faint? Or tremble as you take in the glory that is Celine? Or go completely numb and then realize that you've pissed and shit yourself? Just so many ways to inappropriately behave, I'm not sure I can decide on one right now. I can hardly wait to see Damian on the 28th either. He's the first familiar face I'd be seeing after all this time, and all the emotions I'd be suppressing for the past year could be unleashed upon his arrival. I'm just giving an early warning right now - the screaming and sobbing could cause airport security to react violently. It's like how someone could get into an accident and get sent to a hospital, all the while maintaining completely calm, and then just loosing all control the minute a friend or family member comes.
Meanwhile, I'm gonna take total advantage of the fantastic summer weather Madison's experiencing right now. Have an ice-cream from Coldstone, enjoy the ducks on the lake... Life is currently looking very good.
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