I Know Nothing

On Friday, a few fraternity brothers and I went to a University of Arkansas hockey game at the Jones Center. Marcus, another brother, plays goalie for the club team. We were supposed to play two games against Tulane, but the school canceled, apparently because they're really bad. But that's hearsay. Instead, the team hosted a scrimmage.

I know nothing about hockey. In fact, I know nothing about many things. At Camp War Eagle, campers are required to send their parents a postcard in the middle of the week, to say, I miss you and I love camp. The counselors have to screen them in order to make sure the camper doesn't write, I hate it here, or, my counselor's a robot (it's happened to me - twice). Once I had a camper postcard that simply read, "I KNOW NOTHING."

That's how I feel about life sometimes.

Marcus is the back-up goalie, though I think he's much better than the starter. He looks better. His uniform fits perfectly. During the scrimmage, his team won 7-3, a score stuck between a really boring football game and a hockey game with no discipline. It was hard to cheer for Marcus, since he had to stay in one place. We congratulated him everytime his team scored. Way to go, Marcus. You look great in that uniform.

I never lock my car. Most often, I leave my keys in it. The car is a stick shift, and I live in Fayetteville. I haven't run into many situations where people I don't know try to steal it. Coming out of the hockey game, though, it appeared that someone had tossed my car. Everything that was in the center console was thrown onto the driver's seat, and my Sonic giftcard was gone.

Once when I lived in Rome I had my bag stolen. I was riding a night train with two UCLA students, Mack and Maggie, and I fell asleep. Mack woke me up and told me someone had run off with my bag. Thanks, Mack. You are very astute.

I felt sorry for the theif, because there wasn't much there. I had two Jules Verne books, and a notebook with an awesome outline for a Star Wars comic. There was a camera and a Nalgene. The worst part was the bag had my passport. My plane home was schedule for the coming Monday. I had to postpone, and stand in line at the U.S. Embassy. I would have given him the bag, if I could've had my passport. And the notebook. I hope the theif was a Star Wars fan. And could read English.

In the same way, I feel sorry for the Jones Center theif, because he probably spent a lot of time casing my car, and using his stealth skills, and all he got was a Sonic giftcard. Other than that, there were medieval literature books, two candles from Initiation, Pankration shirts, balloon animals, birthday hats, and these two old-timey photographs that I took at the end of the summer with some friends from War Eagle. I forgot they were in my car. I was supposed to scan and print copies for everyone, but I lost my nerve when I found out it was illegal. I hope they've forgotten.