College, Chapter 3
#4 of An Alternate Path
GM: Joe Pa is a badger. Me: Why does that make sense?
GM: Because he is.
That some real people, if not their real personalities, would be part of this game, my friend and I faced the question of who would be human and who would be something else. Well, already mentioned I had that workstudy videotaping the football team. I'd encounter Joe Paterno, at least indirectly because of that. And what about that assistant coach? Would I find out what he was up to and manage to stop it before it became the big scandal? There's a few chapters before we get to that. My editor is going to roll his eyes quite a lot over some chapters. Of particular note is the character created to be my faculty advisor. Although the coyote's name is Knox, I kept misspelling it. Can you see why?
(If you want to read this cheerful story, it can be found at http://www.online-literature.com/hans_christian_andersen/981/ as well as other websites. For music, I was inspired by http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wxrB41PMhw.)
On to the next chapter:
Ascending to the second floor of the Carnegie building, I followed the sound of chatter to the students and faculty gathering for the luncheon. Checking in with the bat hanging from the ceiling, I affixed a nametag to my shirt and began to mingle with finger food and punch. "George," said a coyote reading my name tag smiled. "What are you studying?"
"Film production," I smiled, putting the cup down to shake his hand. "At least, that is what I intend to study. May transfer to architecture or urban planning if this doesn't pan out."
"Dr. Knox," he shook my hand in his paw. "Might be your faculty advisor," he smiled, "Let's at least talk." We found some empty chairs at a table and sat down. "Why cinema?" he asked, getting right to the point.
"I'm dissatisfied," I answered directly. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm dissatisfied with the direction some movies and TV shows are taking. I can't swim against the tide of history or culture, but maybe I can direct the current in ways I want it to go."
Dr. Knox looked at me for a bit then chuckled. "Even if I'm not your faculty advisor, I like your attitude. What's your full name?" he asked. After I provided my last name, he checked his list and smiled, "I am your advisor as it turns out. So much the better," he softly growled.
"The ebb and flow of culture, the changing mores are outside of any one person's control for sure, but not entirely outside of any one's influence. Of course, we saw your admissions portfolio, read your essays and scripts, so it goes without saying we see something we like in you."
"Thanks," I blushed. "So my short did not offend you?"
"It depressed the hell out of us, but not much you can do to make that story cheerful," he answered in his soft baritone. "Why Match Girl for a short? Are you goth?"
We both laughed and I shook my head. "Well, Russian/Slavic," I said. "Part Jewish."
"One of those?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. I nodded. "Life for your grandparents must not have been too cheerful, so this would be a happy ending then."
"The life of a Russian serf was not a pleasant one, even without the religious bias and anti-semitism," I agree. "But the music, pouring out your suffering and misery, letting the wings of music carry your suffering away to God brings joy to the hearts hardened by suffering."
"Are you planning to transfer to philosophy or religous studies?" he laughed. The smile stayed on his face and he shook my hand again, "Welcome to the College of Communication, School of Film and Video Production. If your short and your attitude are any indication, you could be the next Woody Allen."
I grinned, "I love his movies."
"God help us," Dr. Knox grinned. A raccoon walked up leading another freshman, a young mouse. "Dr. Cooper?" the coyote looked up and stood up. "Like you to meet Mr. Ruskin," he introduced me to the mouse.
"Pleasure," he said, shaking hands. "Likewise," I grinned.
"Chris Shiff," Dr. Cooper introduced the young raccoon. I think he's one of your students," he smiled.
"George Ruskin," Dr. Knox introduced us. "This is Dr. Cooper, specialist in editing." I shook his hand and also the mouse's paw.
"A pleasure," I smile. "I look forward to taking your class someday."
He grinned, "I hope you do too. You need to learn a few things."
"Well, that's why I'm here."
An armadillo waddled up. "Are you Dr. Cooper?" he asked with his New Mexican accent.
"Yes."
"Sheldon Addams," he smiled. "You're my advisor."
"Welcome," Dr. Cooper said, followed by Dr. Knox. As they left to discuss classes, Dr. Knox, Chris and I sat down to go over the plan of study.
After a productive and interesting luncheon, I crossed the campus to the HUB, on foot since it was such a pleasant day. The building did live up to its name today; with so many folks coming and going like bees at a hive, it was a hub of activity. Chuck and Mark were not there yet, or at least, not at our proposed meeting spot. I waited for a bit, then wandered in, tempted by the smell of hot pizza. Even as I savored the taste of pizza and scalded my tongue and palate, I wondered and worried a bit where my roomies might be. Amazing how the mind works, isn't it? We imagine horrific scenarios when really it was only lunch running over. (Ah, the good old days before cell phones and instant communications.)
"Hey, you didn't wait," a voice whispered over my shoulder.
"Pizza," I stated in my defence, holding up a slice as evidence.
"Well, okay," Mark stuck out his tongue and took a slice. "Time to explore what the university of far away has to offer."
I chuckled, "Some of my classmates in high school went there. A chance to do things without being under the watchful glare of parents?" I smiled. Honestly, this is part of why I wanted to come here. Mostly, though, because it was Penn State.
My skunk roommate nodded, started to say something, then grew quiet.
"OK. Probably not my business anyway," I nodded agreement. We moved away from the pizza table for a bit, keeping an eye out for Chuck who appeared not long after.
"What are we here for?" he asked, looking at the mob surrounding us.
"To do things we probably would not do with our parents glaring at us," Mark grinned.
"I'll be studying too much," Chuck said.
"With seventeen credits on my schedule, I'll be studying a lot too. But I want to do other things too. At least look around?"
We began wandering, sticking together at first, joking about some of the clubs which seemed weird to us. "Maybe we could start one?" I joked. "The Sandwich?"
A flick of Mark's tail silenced me.
After a bit of walking, I glanced at a table in a corner. "Excuse me," I said. "I'll meet you guys back at the room, ok?"
"Sure," Chuck agreed, wandering off with Mark.
There should be no reason for me to be ashamed of it, or perhaps it was the idea of being at the university of far away, but somehow I did not want my roommates about when I went to the table set up by the mission group serving Penn State's Eastern Orthodox community. Just as odd to me was the notion there was no Orthodox church in State College yet, what with so many Eastern European immigrants settling in Pennsylvania. As my dad remarked, the state is like an endless field of onions.
I smiled a greeting to the short, pudgy beaver who stood up. "Father John?" I asked.
He nodded. "Welcome to Penn State."
I pulled the letter from my backpack, still sealed in the envelope Father Sam gave me. "Sorry its wrinkled."
He chuckled and shrugged. "If you think this is wrinkled, wait until you're my age." We both laughed, though he did not seem much older than me. After reading over the letter, he stuffed it into his cassock, "Well, we don't have regular services just yet, but we're looking for a permanent home. You're more than welcome, of course, to commune with us. What's your name?"
"George Ruskin," I smiled and sat down so we could chat a bit. I gave him my dorm room number and phone number also. Well, the most important bit of our meeting is that I ended up as the oldest altar boy at the mission, and also a part time bass in the choir. "See you Sunday, Father," I smiled, standing up and getting his blessing.
I wandered a bit more, stopping at the table for the model railroad club, signing up for it as well as the cinephile society. On my way out, I found one more club that looked interested. Again, I hesitated as I approached, looking around. Not sure why. Aside from my roommates and faculty advisor, I knew no one on campus at all.
"Excuse me," I said at the same time as a lovely otteress. Yes, I'm gay, but even so, beauty is unmistakable. She had a soft face and a playful twinkle in her eye as we walked up to the table together. I only checked when the meetings were and scribbled it down before leaving.
Much later in the day, sitting in our quiet common room, hiding from the screeching commotion outside as some of our floormates celebrated we did not care what, Mark asked, "So how about we see that movie you wanted me to write music for?"
I looked at Chuck who just shrugged.
"Yeah, sure. Go get tissues," I said. I rummaged in my room, found the tape and popped it into the VCR.
At the end, they both stared silently. I rung my hands nervously, wondering how they would react.
"I," Chuck looked stunned. "I did not know they made fairy tale noir."
"You're just gonna be a bundle of joy to be around, arencha?" Mark finally said.
I reached over to brush his tail, then jerked my hand away when he shot me a look and flicked his tail.
"Sorry," I bit my lip.
"Just don't do it, ok?" he snapped defensively. After settling down, he smiled, "But I think I have something for your movie." He took the tape from the VCR and headed into his room. "Good night."
"G'night, and thanks." I smiled and waved. He turned and closed his door. Chuck sat quietly, not even acknowledging as I wished him good night also. I closed my door, pulled out pen and paper and began writing a letter home.