Jimmy-McNulty Day

*Found in my notes from last semester, now first, before anything else, go watch The Wire. Or read this I guess. I mean, you are here already. That show lasted for five seasons so it seems like an unusually long commitment to get to read a blog post that only touches briefly on it. So sure, go ahead and read it, then go watch the show, and then come back and read it again. I enjoy our talks.

***

Lester - Tell me something Jimmy, how exactly do you think it all ends?

Jimmy - What do you mean?

Lester - A parade? A gold watch? A shining Jimmy-McNulty-day moment, when you bring in a case so sweet that everyone gets together and says: "Oh shit, he was right all along. We should'a listened to the man". -The job will not save you, Jimmy. It won't make you whole, it won't fill your ass up.

***

There was not a single time that I told someone I went to Georgia Perimeter College without at least a hint of hesitation. My response always came with an explanation. A justification that would explain to this person that just because I'm 'here' and not 'there' doesn't mean I'm not going to become something special. That I am not a loser. My guess is that the other person never cared. It was me that put so much emphasis on being 'there' instead of 'here'. I  was trying to convince myself that I would be ok. That this was a momentary setback until life righted itself with a wind behind my back instead of in my face.

I thought about all this walking away from my last exam that capped off my first full year at the University of Georgia. A very good school by whatever metric you use. Looking back over the semesters I felt very little. That wasn't supposed to happen at 'there'. I was supposed to be looking back over all the lifelong friends I'd met, the amazing things I'd learned, how exciting life was here, and of course the girls. But in reality it had just been ok. There were very good days, and bad ones. Mostly life was the same as it had always been.

Which is what brought that amazing scene from The Wire to mind (and it's cliché to write about The Wire but I don't care). Jimmy McNulty is a good cop. He's not a great father, or husband (he's divorced), or maybe person. But on the cusp of bringing in a case against some very influential drug dealers in Baltimore he finds himself very proud. And why shouldn't he be? He is "good po-lice" and even for his standards today is a good day. And then Lester, an experienced cop who also happens to be "good po-lice", lets Jimmy in on what years of living have taught him - the job will not save you. It won't make you whole. What Lester is trying to explain to Jimmy isn't that he shouldn't care about his job. It's that the belief that it would make him whole is a lie. That being great at the job would somehow take that wreck of a life he lives when not wearing a badge and make it okay. Jimmy wanted so badly for that to be true. But it wasn't.

So I found myself walking away from an empty building, having finished my last exam wondering if I was in need of a re-calibration. Somewhere along the line I forgot what the Lesters of the world have for years been trying to tell us all. Be careful where you place your hope and expectation. We assign artificial value to things, titles, and accomplishments afraid that without them we'd have nothing left. And that's fine for a while. I was placing an awful lot of stock in the name that goes on a diploma. Because it matters. Just like a job does. It's a great demonstration that a person is capable of hard work and responsibility. But it's not so great at providing purpose; it's not so great at filling voids.

Garlic Bread; and the People that Eat it. Just kidding. What a stupid title that would be huh?

I’ve been in Athens a whole semester now and I might post about the whole thing but for now though, here’s a story.

My roommates and I were eating at a dining hall early in the semester when a couple girls one of my roommates knew joined us. We were all introduced and had the normal getting to know each other chitchat. Now it’s at this point, to quote one of my favorite comedians Mike Birbiglia, I feel I need to remind you that you’re on my side.

Mike Birbiglia – Celebrity Golf - My Secret Public Journal Live

The topic of conversation drifted to the dining hall food, which is fine, it’s quite good. However, then one of the girls brought up her idea of selling a book or teaching a class that taught people all the different combinations of food you could make in the dining hall. They seem really excited about it, can’t stress that enough. I didn’t get it at all. Not the worst idea in the world but not exactly a world-beater either. Most importantly though, all of this was in my head, so it doesn’t really matter. While I’m in my head though, one of my roommates is running with the idea. In his enthusiasm he decides to poll the group and see who else would be down for this amazing opportunity. He asks me if I’d buy the book. I reply without hesitation, “No, I really doubt it.” Everyone is a bit more uncomfortable than they were five seconds ago. I do not yet realize this. My friend, trying to save the situation, follows up by asking, “But you’d at least sit in a class to learn about it right?” Which had I been paying attention I would’ve realized roughly translated to, “Hey man, that was a pretty dickish thing to say so can you please not be an ass and throw them a bone here?” I did not pick up on that. My reply was something along the lines of, “Probably not, it’s really not that hard.” So the tally is DREAMCRUSHER 2, formerly excited college girls 0.

It’s at this point I realize what I’ve done. I find it all simultaneously really funny and sad. Really funny because anytime someone is so socially oblivious it’s funny to me. I have a friend that will have entire conversations with people I don’t know without introducing us to each other. I laugh and enjoy the unnecessary awkwardness with the other person until we get a chance to introduce ourselves. So this situation was hilarious to me. The obliteration of ideas however, is not something I want to be in the habit of so that bummed me out. So there we are at the table, me realizing what I’ve done, saying qualifying things like, “It’s really not a bad idea, just not for me.” Fighting back a giant grin the whole time.

- - -

The story continues a couple weeks later at a dining hall once again downing more garlic cheesy bread than could ever be logically explained. When I get back home my roommates are walking out the door to go hang out with some girls; I do not decline the invitation. It turned out we are going to the house of the girls whose dining hall food idea I had dismissed so thoroughly. So needless to say this should be interesting. When we get there the girls suggest we play Truth or Dare Jenga. Which was outstanding, as I had been feeling quite nostalgic for seventh grade lately.

            It was a decently sized group with several girls and five or six guys. We began playing and its Truth or Dare Jenga, with a bunch of people I don’t know, so of course it got weird. Somewhere in between sitting across from a dude who no longer had a shirt on, rubbing noses with a friend, and switching an item of clothing with another person in the room I began thinking up my “thanks but no thanks to this inevitable orgy excuses.”

Already accepted an orgy invitation tonight.

I’m asexual. No not “a sexual”, asexual. That doesn’t even mean anything. Please put your pants back on.

I have diarrhea. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’S OK????

          So there we were Jengaing away when one of the guys draws a dare that has him drink an absolutely disgusting concoction made from a bunch of random things found in the kitchen. Vinegar, milk, butter, ect. Also some cobwebs, so I figured the game would finally end because he’s clearly going to die. It looked and smelled truly awful. There was no reason to drink it, but he somehow did (Yay peer pressure!). As concoction boy is struggling to keep his drink down, the next person draws a block instructing her to walk around to every person in the room, smell their breath, and then announce to the group who’s is the worst. So immediately everyone looks at the dude that just drank the concoction and laughs because they just KNOW his is the worst. And it’s about then that I remember just how much garlic bread I had consumed. And I realized that despite how disgusting his drink was we had a two horse race on our hands. The general sentiment was, “Why even waste time smelling everyone’s when there’s no chance someone could possibly have poor enough hygiene to compete with what that poor guy just drank.” Which is just great to hear when you suspect that at this particular time you just might be that someone. The girl that drew the block decides that despite the fact that there is no chance it will be anyone other than concoction boy she will go through the motions. Lovely. But I remember a few things at this point. I’ve never met her before (or these other people aside from dining hall idea girl), I’m new in this town, and there’s an easy out because of concoction boy who she knows well. I realize in her shoes there’s no way most people would call out someone on this and relax a bit. She makes it around the room, reaches the end, and glances in my direction, smiles, and then she says the words, “Yours was pretty bad honestly.”

It’s not every day Kansas loses to Northern Iowa; upsets are fascinating. And I was able to put on my glass slipper and play Cinderella for a moment as concoction boy saw his dreams of cutting down the nets slip through his fingers. He worked hard, and drank some nasty stuff but in the end it just wasn’t enough to overcome the grit, determination, and sheer potency that garlic brings to the table. All eyes swung to me when she said what she said to see my response. And I laughed. It was a really similar laugh to the one I barely managed to stifle only a couple weeks before in the dining hall. I didn’t find what she said particularly funny; feeling embarrassment is rarely funny. Laughter is often simply the only appropriate response to people being dicks. But you know why else I laughed? I realized something in that moment. I bet reading a book about dining hall food would’ve prevented the whole thing.