college, roomate

It’s all semantics…. Right?

I have held off writing about my roommate, mostly because I knew he would reveal a fountain of treasure, and I didn’t wanna come across mean, but I have realized that everyone needs to know about Lynx; which isn’t his real name, but it is the name of a constellation, and he is named after a constellation, but I think Lynx is a cooler name than his real name. Everyone needs to know about his extraordinary gifts. You will come to appreciate, as I have, how exceptional the man is. That is how you should take this. Not a roast. Not a mockery, but a view of person that is cut from a different cloth. A person who goes to the beat of his own drum, not only because he can play the drums, but because he is the exception to the norm. He decided that years ago.

I think it would be appropriate to share how I came to meet Lynx.

One day, during the middle of the semester, I came home, and notice that a blue Nissan Odyssey was parked in the driveway. (Too bad the van wasn’t a Toyota.) I roll inside the house to find a long-haired bearded man, looking back at me through his spectacles. I almost ask, but I size up the situation in the kitchen, and realize that he isn’t a DHL guy hand delivering dish after dish into the cupboards. Instead I say, “Uh……” He responds as quick as a a double shot of 5 hour energy. “I am your new roommate. I used to live across the street. My name is Lynx.” My head wants me to still say “Uh….” Somehow I manage to say, “Why,” which is better than a basket of cookies to house warm a person with. Yum, don’t you feel welcomed now.

I later find out that he was a music major, doesn’t go to school, is from California, and doesn’t want to get to know me. Not because he is mean, he just didn’t ask me a single question or show any human interest in me. I still don’t know why he had to move. I am just so glad he is living with me. Now I can know how boring I am.

Whenever I think of Lynx, I think of Men in Black, but I quickly come back to earth, from that celestial constellation, when I go into the bathroom we share. He must have laid out coal and other dark substances on his carpet floor in his room (the door to his room is always closed, so he may actually be growing weed too), or walks barefoot every where, because he has extraordinary dirty feet. The bottom of our shower is black. This is incredible.

To further baffle me, the man has a mane that sheds furiously. I find hair all over. I wonder if he is Teen wolf. This is truly preternatural. I am not sure if this all preparation for the part of my life when I have to share a bathroom with a woman, but I am sure that he is supernatural, and that Indian hair is thick. Thick as THIEVES! (Idioms are fun. Reread that sentence with some authority. Maybe yell it.) Yes, his hair is that thick.

He is really gifted in music. Whether it is the piano, drums, the guitar, or humming, the guy knows what he is doing. His voice exercises are most spectacular. Powerful. That is what comes to mind. Power. He can shake the walls, vibrate my seat, and consume my mind with his vocal talents. I have to bid farewell to my studies, while I am forced to listen. I actually considered putting beeswax in my ears, the sound was pulling me out of reality…. His band does have some chicks, which is awesome. I love when girls, excuse me, women rock out. Like Grace Potter, Elly Jackson, and yes, even Avril Lavigne, especially when she sings in Spanish.

I wonder what he does all day. I sit in amazement at his hour and half long showers. Awed, by his ability to eat nothing but Betty Crocker cakes, and never clean a dish. Dumbfounded, by our ability to live with each other and not know anything about each other. I am stupefied by his self-discipline to stay in our house and his room all of the time. His awkwardness is truly awesome. I give you Lynx. He gives you extraordinary.

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