Nineteenth Post / While Away

I have returned to the Suite after a very long delay. It seems that much has happened here, in the Suite itself rather than in its online iteration. But before I get to that, allow me to explain what has kept me so long.

My home is far less stable place than America. For all the fear your government has instilled in you, not a terrible amount of what happens here can be considered true "instability". On my side of the world, we have the Soviet aftermath, we have Winter as you will never know it, and we have the fallout from American foreign policy. You may have heard about the explosion of a gas pipeline between Russia and Georgia. You may even have heard the accusations made by certain radical groups, claiming that the explosion was organized by Russia herself. Much of the weight of these accusations fell on my father's head. It has been a difficult week for my family, and I would not have left them to suffer it alone.


And so I returned late last night, spending most of my day begging the forgiveness of my professors and mentors. I assured them that I am fully capable of making up any work I missed, and I look forward to impressing them with my efforts.

But, if I may indulge in the practice of gossip, what on Earth has happened to my dear suitemates. Alan has sunk, and is sinking further, into stagnancy and depression. Alfonzo has, seemingly, walked as far along the mobius strip of his idiosyncracies as could be tolerated, and now finds that he is his own opposite; happy without reason, devoid of rage, and eager to interact with others. Chaz is not as skewed as the other two, but he is showing a previously unseen affection for his textbooks. I wonder what courses he is taking.

When I made my way back to the Suite this afternoon, I found Alfonzo watching TV in the common room. He said "Hey, Vlad. Welcome back," and I'm sure I looked as perplexed as he did. Soon after, Alan opened his door (a door, I must point out, which was hardly known to close last semester) to welcome me back. What little room I saw, through the open slice of the door, was filthy, piled high with boxes, paper, clothing, and some sort of enormous red bag. Though he seemed truly glad to see me back--this is something for which I much admire Alan; his sincerity--I can see that there is a primal spark, a light from within, that has dimmed since I last saw him. Hearing the commotion, Chaz came out and recieved me with a very strong embrace. "Allo, Comrade. How is the Motherland, da?" he said; Chaz, much of the time, does not know enough to be truly offensive, so I accept his jokes with their intended humor intact.

Chaz and Alan returned to their rooms to study, and I retired to the couch to watch TV with Alfonzo. He watched me with a certain tension apparent in his shoulders and eyebrows. I asked him how his time off was, and he winced, seeming to chew on his words before saying, "Good." My further questions produced much the same result. I promise that I will someday understand Alfonzo. For now, I'm glad he has stopped trying to live in the shopping mall.

I hope that my new curriculum will open the veins of my creativity, so that I may better play a role on the blog. I regret that I posted so little last semester, and aim, tenetively, to post thirty times before the semester's end.

-Vlad