(no subject)

Ahh. Two things are very obvious to me right now: I finally finished all my official work, and my sleep cycle had moved towards completely rotated by the end of the week. But now it's the weekend, it completely feels like the weekend, and I have nothing to do for a week but study and listen to presentations. And today's another one of those beautifully hot, not-too-smoggy days. I love Claremont sometimes, or at least the weather.

I said I'd go have lunch with Richard so I'll be off to do that soon.

Good company helps with a lot of the stress of staying up all night. Monday csn and I borrowed Greg and Michael's room, and last night regisman lent me his couch and was interesting to talk to at breakfast. I think I'll be stopping by to say hi more often. Or to learn to play Illuminati.

Yesterday afternoon I dreamed I was male. I don't remember most of the dream; after I woke up I had one of those memories that I knew never happened. It was a bit disconcerting.

If anyone wants to go to the Laramie Project this afternoon, Kevin and I are meeting in the lounge to leave around 3:30. It's in Seaver and space is first come, first served. $3 at the door. As far as I can tell, it's a collection of responses from residents of Laramie after Matthew Shepard's death.

(no subject)

I went to Laramie Project this afternoon. It was good. Made me lose track of time, which is always a good thing.

I knew the story before I came in. Even in middle school, I was reasonably aware of the news and knew that this was a Bad Thing. I didn't know some of the details.

I'm still not entirely coherent. I've never lived in Laramie. I may have driven through, either on the drive out from Iowa or on the way somewhere when we lived in Cheyenne and I was younger than 5. I remember the Wyoming wind and the blue sky that they talk about, though. I remember hiding my face in my dad's jacket because it was too strong and later, during a rest stop, getting out of the car and leaning on the wind, feeling it start to hold me up. But that's about it.

It seemed like the words it had chosen were relatively balanced. Certainly they were chosen with an objective in mind, but it didn't feel like they were skewed. What can I say? For the first part, time didn't matter. So many words. One scene-the man who found him, the detective who responded to his call, the doctor who treated him in the hospital.

The funeral. I suppose one of the parts that brought me closest to tears was the service: it's the liturgy we use, it's the service that is said over most people who are buried in the Episcopal church. And it carries such an impact. I don't know why.

Mr. Shepard's speech.

I feel swamped with words.

Afterwards I called my aunt who was a priest in Lusk, WY at the time. Strangely--not surprisingly, there aren't that many people in Wyoming--she knew the priest at the church he went to, at home. He was an altar server there, she said. She mainly talked about the community's shock--the feeling of "I don't care who it was, that's not right." Also that even though there's been no official legislation, people were working to turn its image around, for instance the Casper paper running a 4-page color feature on gay rodeos.

I'm not feeling entirely social. No, not especially. I may head down to the party for a little while. I may sleep. I may go find people after everything's over.