The Best Thing That’s Ever Happened to Humanity.

As was expected to happen sooner or later, as what was impossible to avoid, this has become a blog about Pat Hayes. 

Two nights ago, a situation arose while hearing Chris’s voice for the first time since the bearded wanderer left in January (oh, by the by, he’s since slept alone in a cave on top of a glacier, gotten picked up by a boat captain and taken crab fishing for three days, worked on the private organic farm of the former CEO of Northface/Patagonia, held down over two hundred sheep as they were raped by rams for breeding purposes, and gone camping in the Argentinian wilderness with three of the world’s elite fly fishermen. There was way more than that, but it was too much to shove into a 2 hour conversation). Patrick, who is headed to Malawi this summer to work on an architecture project, sent pretty much everyone he knows an email asking for money for the foundation. 

It was very well written, even heart wrenching, and the recipients included a range from former teachers to his grandmother.  At the end of the email were several attached pictures, ostensibly to be of the foundation and school in Malawi.

Well, they were, at least the last several. But the first attached photo, because the gods would make this accident happen to Patrick, and serendipity would allow Andrew and I to see it happen, and God would have me be talking to Chris when it did happen, was this:

 

This was the best accident that has ever happened ever. 

Pat immediately followed that email with an apology email, while Chris and I decided the picture and the original email were to be framed and hung at our new house in the fall. 

 

Pat emailed Chris and I back:

 

“It was SUCH a big mistake. Andrew and Trevor and Austin about died as well…and I wish I had died.

“Oh Patrick…please  be sure to send an apology to Grandma Sue as soon as possible.  This is just terrible” 

-e-mail from my mom about 10 minutes later.”

Pat and AIESEC

Patrick-AIESEC background: Pat lives with Andrew, my former roommate from last year. They’ve both heard about aiesec from my recounts of conferences and meetings strewn throughout our first two years of college. Both masked their hatred until Wren and I came back from our traineeships last summer, and now they are blatantly open about it. I am certainly amused, if not convinced, by their rants. Take Pat’s recent post(s) on my wall:

“I MEANT TO TELL YOU BUT THEY [AIESEC-University of Minnesota] HAD A HUGE INFORMATION/GAME NIGHT AT OUR MEMORIAL UNION THIS WEEKEND, I STUMBLED ON IT AND IT WAS ABOUT 20 FRESHMEN WHO TALKED ABOUT CHANGING THE WORLD AND I STOLE SOME POSTERS AND DID MY BEST TO SUCK UP AND MAKE THEM THINK I CAN BE A MEMBER SO I CAN DESTROY IT FROM WITHIN BECAUSE IT IS A SCOURGE ACROSS THE WORLD.”

“I’m truely creeped out by them now…please tell me you stopped going to the self-centered social sex/networking organization that is Aiesec! …so to anyone who is confused who reads my most recent post on Kevin’s wall, my name is Patrick Hayes, and I will do all in my power to combat AIESEC.”

It continues:
“it is a self-righteous band of well-off college kids who want to feel important and ‘worldly’. and throw parties and pretend that they are meaningful. maybe non-US Aiesec members are good people, but…”

“AIESEC => Umbrella Corp [evil company from our favorite video game] 
Pat Hayes => Jill Valentine [impossibly formed, degrading female heroine]
Andrew Knutson => Leon S. Kennedy [impossibly formed, equally degrading male hero]
Kevin Doran => Wesker [Genetically engineered evil mastermind/former hero]“

“OMG [Pat's mocking yet frequently used "Oh My God" abbreviation].”

And more.

“and the more i read that link [a sort of making fun of aiesec site, probably written by AIESECers], the more i realize that the link you sent me was more of a “haha aiesec is so bad! omg helping people TOO much!” it is trying to flatter aiesec with self-deprecating humor, so boo to that link, too!”

 

Later, Pat’s status: 

Patrick J Hayes hates AIESEC so much. I never have hated a student organization before but AIESEC is just so terrible…

I love my friend.

Also, I should probably throw in this disclaimer: I don’t fully agree with everything Pat says in the rant, as I benefitted immesurably from my membership in AIESEC.

Some Truth. Sorry.

Some. And some overt racisms.

“Why I Now Believe in God”, or “Updates”

Destiny

On my way to class at 7am I walked by the future house of my senior year, as I do every day, only today there was a note on the door:

Notice:
You must be extraordinarily good looking to eat/live in this house.
-The Management

Tickets Purchased
On May 20^th I will by flying down to the Dominican Republic for two weeks. Apparently the hardest part about reaching “La Aldea de Tommy”, as the village is now known, is getting there alone from the capital, Santo Domingo. Thus I will be travelling with a group of missionaries Tom linked me up with. “Save da deight” Tommy once wrote. Nothing could explain my exuberance better.

Advice
Go to Pandora.com, then create their pre-made stations for every single genre, then only allow yourself to listen to one song per station then switch.  Jesus will be with you.

Now while at work I appear to be quietly reviewing student test scores with headphones, when really I’m rocking out to a Marley-infused Reggaeton remix of Brown Eyed Girl. I drew the line at the Holiday station and Stoner/Doom Metal, because I love god (or life or so forth).

The only downside to nondiscriminatory listening is how coworkers tend to peer over your shoulder during contemporary gospel instead of bubblegum oldies. 

Home
Two weekends ago I went home and  cried because they’re all so wonderful:

An Update On Those I love

Hi friends and fam!   

There’s not a whole lot of craziness to report on around Madison, so why not share together in the consolidated and congregated tales of the fallen, my friends studying abroad? Here I summarize the news I’ve received from some remarkable individuals. 

Chris is alive and well. After arriving to the southern tip of Chile to work on a Bee Hive reserve, things at first seemed, well, strange. There were no people. The reserve’s scattered collection of houses were abandoned, cars left in driveways with doors flung open, fruit rotting on dusty tables. The mystery deepened when, night after night of camping out in an old church, Chris heard the distant sound of children’s laughter mixed with the buzzing of bees. He promises to write again soon after he and “Bob” (this old mute fisherman-guy he found derranged in the woods) investigate some mines, where the old man desperately points towards whenever they hear screaming. 

Maren completed the first “vision quest” given to her by the Egyptian sun god Ra, defeating lord Anubis in a board game called Senet. The place of the tournament, Temple Osiris, began collapsing upon the game’s end, forcing her to rework through all the puzzles leading to the temple’s exit in less than 30 seconds. She says the snake pit part is really hard, but she got some good pictures and loves Arab culture.  

Dan finally, finally left for New Zealand, only to find it doesn’t exist. The plane dropped him off on a small island that held an “information booth”, staffed by a single Samoan and a gas station run by an old couple from Virginia. “Did you actually think New Zealand is a real place?” They laughed. “And I bet he thinks Australia is real too!” 

After 2 hours of being in Chile, Molly decided she hates Latinos and came home. 

Tommy, tan and strong, had been farming with a group of Haitians in the fields of the Dominican when he was called to lead them back into Haiti, overthrow the current US-Backed banana republic, and restore exiled former president Jean-Bertrand Aristide to his rightful place. Tom is now working as Haiti’s Minister of Commerce.

(A note to the governmental crawlers reading this blog: 1. this is fiction,  please do not put Tom’s name on the terrorist list, and 2. I wish you the deepest shame for overthrowing Arisitde, you dirty, fascist pigs. The indecency! I’m going to send the NSA a stinging letter of complaint about this, just you wait.) 

Upon her terrified arrival to the Eiffel Tower, Jenna was pleased to find that her French host family spoke English, and lot’s of it. Her bonne humeur continued when every subsequent acquaintance had a strong command of the American tongue. Eventually Jenna found out that no one in France actually speaks French. Apparently the language had been dropped in the late 1800s for snobbily accented English at the suggestion of the American government and a thirteen hundred dollar check.

Aren’t you proud of them all?! I’m always inspired by their stories, such world changers!

As for around here, like I said not much to report. Brooks and I have been doing some work with Governor Doyle, trying to figure out what to do with this 9 billion dollars from the American Recovery and Investment Act. Brooks wants to plant a bunch of river birches on Bascom, which at first Doyle was all for, but then I suggested coffee water fountains and everyone started arguing again. Chancellor Biddy called Brooks a “big baby”, at which point I broke a chair over her back and went out for a smoke. I think I’m just frustrated that everyone else is having these great adventures while I’m stuck around here, chained to class and work and multi-billion dollar economic stimulus decisions.    

OW.

Why is it, do you think, that we bite our cheek/tongue occasionally? 

If you believe in evolution: was there some ecological advantage to chomping one’s own lip every thousand bites or so?

If you believe in creationism: was God just like, “heheh, little fuckers, they’ll like this.”

3 Weeks Down. Wait, What?

“Something has gone wrong here.”

That quote echoed around the world from Somalia in 1993, spoken secretly to the Red Cross by a captive American pilot of a felled Black Hawk helicopter in the hands of Mogadishu warlords. I had to write a five page essay on it last semester in one night, later to find out the professor never read it. But I thought of that man’s words this week, and would like to say them to you, dear reader, as you “study abroad,” most likely laughing to yourself about how you left poor Kevin to this situation:

Thursday, the end of my 500-level Computer Science class. Packing up, I hear simultaneously.

Conversation in front of me: yeah, my girlfriend got a full ride to Berkley’s grad school, and if I don’t get the same package we’re going to go to Michigan’s.

Conversation behind me: “What’s that? Oh yeah, I’m in the law school here but I’ve got to take this class for the other masters. Computer Engineering, yup. Yeah great program for doing them both here.”

Me: I looked down at my notebook. I’d been doodling a dragon, not a very good dragon, which made me decide I should practice doodling more often. I also noticed I hadn’t really taken much notes past Thursday, February 5^th, as I try not to look up at lecture often, feels like watching Saw IV.

How dare you let me take that class? You, lured away by the promise of adventure and bilingualism, taking pass-fail cultural history classes and drinking fifty cent Cervesas while laughing with your friend Carlos about this dumb American you know at home trying to do a computer science certificate. “Yeah we told him it’d be great, a real learn-shit semester you know? Haha, poor Kev. What? Spanish Beer pong tournament before class tomorrow? Hell yes! Or I mean… Si! Right? Am I right? Haha, you’re loco Carlos, just loco. I fucking amo [insert random country here] Whoooo! We’re going skinny dipping! What’s that [German exchange student] Alda?! You don’t know what skinny dipping is? Mi DIOS! CULTURAL LEARNING! WHOOOOOO!”

Do you know what? You and Carlos and Alda can get kidnapped by secuestradors for all I care. I’m going to get through this. That POW survived his torturous warlord captors for months, if he can handle that I can handle this.  At least I think that guy did. I more skimmed the book than read it. 

Amendment: due to several inquiries, I would like to note that I’m having an amazing semester, far busier, faster, and filled with more adventures than I ever would have pictured.  Please take this blog in a joking tone, and know that I respect your own adventures.  

TOM!

TOMMY IS ALIVE AND WELL AND I MISS MY FRIEND SO MUCH IT HURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Death and All His Friends

From an email to Chris:

Here’s a Moment from Madison for you (does that sound like a PBS special?) -

University Health Services: There I was, sitting in the brand new health wing of the Lucky building, perhaps a few floors from the AIESEC office, thinking about how I may or may not have Melanoma: a particularly deadly skin cancer that a few “troubling” moles of mine were about to be examined for. My dad had skin cancer, his dad died from it, and the number of moles on my body combined with a summerly burn-my-fucking-skin-off-since-age-3 makes me somewhat at risk. Or rather, I think the word the pamphlet used was “hugely”.

Less broadly, I was thinking about how having Melanoma wouldn’t bother me at all. Not because I’m so deeply depressed about my friends being abroad that I’m ready for it all to end, but because I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I’m invincible. I simply cannot picture myself dying. The only evidence I’ve ever been given was “all people die” by my parents at age four, which sounded really dumb then and still does now. I mean, I’ve never died. Not once.

While finishing off the UHS online survey (how many drinks have I really had in the past month?), Maren suddenly popped up on gchat and Wren walked through the door. I wasn’t sure which was more surprising: Maren had just ridden a camel and seen the pyramids while Wren, who I don’t think I’ve ever run into randomly on campus before, was being tested for Tuberculoses. Yes, Tuberculoses. As in TB.  As in the scrooge of the tropics.

Somewhat startled at both, very annoyed that I couldn’t keep gchatting and slightly worried about ditching my 500-level Computer Science discussion about a project I didn’t understand, I walked into the examining room to see if I was going to die.

The doctor was very enthused: “Guess what? You passed! You’re going to be fine!”

“Yeah I know” I said.

The View from a New Semester: Ethnicity, Gender, and Courses in Madison

Surrendering America

8:20am, Dayton Street – Small east Asian girl shuffle-walking towards me, collision course. I’m on what is my right side of the street, she on her left. “Shit” I think. “She doesn’t seem like she’s going to move to her right. Maybe she’s Japanese. I think Japanese people walk on the left.” I keep going, determined to not make ethnic/cultural assumptions. She’s super interested in her feet, shuffling along even faster still on the LEFT. “Fuck!” I swerve off course at the last second, and get a smile from her on her way by. Apparently she has no idea what a cultural fuckup she just committed. Also I feel like I have just surrendered America by losing this game of chicken.

Scholarship

Computer science course 1. My professor is a monster of a combo: 1. he’s one of those business-marking-super-fucking-happy-to-be-up-at-7am-in-a-suit people who need to use every acronym known to man, functioning steadfast on the axiom that if there is a shorter, more confusion way to say something, it will make you look cooler so use it. 2. Everything he’s talking about pertains to computers. This will be one of those learn out of the books classes, I think.

Computer science course 2. YES! JUSTICE! The professor does something amazing: If there is a word that a Micronesian rat farmer-luddite wouldn’t understand, or it hasn’t been covered extensively in one of the course prerequisites, he explains what it means. He doesn’t assume we’ve all encountered the lingo on our 3am Wikipedia binges as we love this shit and eat it during our free time.

Computer science course 3. – Professor has a sweet accent that sounds identical to the game show host in Slumdog Millionaire. The TA, on the other hand, gives the impression that discussion may be held in some south east Asian language, but I’m okay with that. I don’t really know what they’re talking about anyway.

History of American Education – discussion section is me, a couple surly-looking dudes, thirty girls, and a hot, stylish, somewhat witty male TA. Never in my life have I heard such a quantity of high-pitched overzealous laughter.

History of the American West- Professor: the canned day-one history prof speech: “this is the best subject ever, it’s okay that none of you will be historians because you will still somehow benefit from a whole bunch of reading, I hate having to grade you so the TA’s will, I’m going to drop a Sarah Palin joke/Obama reference to show that I’m cool despite alienating a minority of the class who, as dumb as they are, actually liked Palin and have a right to, etc” Then, she goes on with “and we will explore why it is that year after year this class tends to be attended by 60% males, 40% females.”

I look up. Three bros in front of me nudge each other and huffle.

Yes dudes, high fives. Men always win. Touchdowns.