“Not saying no…” pretty much always means “No”

When I was in 6th grade I ran for Student Body Secretary at Sherwood Elementary. This other girl, Tiffany Barber, was running for President or Vice President or something, and since Clueless was a popular movie around then, or maybe just because she was embodying the ditzy pre-adolescent, her campaign slogan was “As if. Vote for Tiff.”

Tiffany Barber was my first crush, I think, because I remember inviting her to my birthday party when I turned 8, and because in elementary school I had absolutely no idea what sex was but I knew I wanted to do it with her.

When I lost the Secretary vote to Katie Something they announced it over the intercom and I started to cry in class. My teacher sensed the awkward situation and led the class in chanting my name, so I smiled instead.

When I was in my Senior Year of High School, I went to a the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival in Moscow Idaho, which is a big festival of mostly high school jazz groups. I played in a competition where piano players registered and played a 15 minute “set” and were judged. Then, the winner got to perform on stage in front of the entire festival at the evening concert, which featured a lot of famous jazz guys. It seemed like a big deal at the time.

I played pretty well, and when they were about to announce the winners, I heard my friend Neil Welch (who has gone on to a career of fame and success playing the saxamaphone) say, “of course Charles will win, after a performance like that.” But I finished third. I didn’t cry that time. It’s weird to think that that was 8 years ago.

Last night I had a dream in which I was a basketball player. That’s not unusual, I always have dreams in which I am playing sports at some elite level. What was kind of weird was that in this game I was playing against the Huskies, and I wasn’t really concerned with being the best player in the game. I just wanted to get as many steals as possible. I remember waving to my dad on the sideline and telling him I was going to get 10 steals. At the end of the game I had 8 and he showed me the stat sheet and Justin Holliday had 9. I was disappointed.

Last night before I had that dream I was at a bar because my friend Charles Wong turned 21 recently and he wanted to go drinking, as 21-year-olds do. Two of his friends were trying to hit on 3 women who were busily texting near us at the bar. I threw a paper airplane at them to give them a chance to break the ice. Stephen went over to a girl and said “sorry about that. How are you?” She ignored him.

I said, “say, ‘What the fuck, dude?'”


About this entry