21st

My 21st was epic. Apart from the fact that it was on April fool's day and consequently a lot of people skipped out...I had a great time. I dropped $200 to have a huge party. The anticipation was exhausting and the night was incredible. Everyone was just happy, and there were plenty of interesting girls. I...unfortunately...got a bit too drunk. The night started with a pbr then 3 naturals, then I was fed a mixed drink, two double chocolate cake shots, champagne, 2 bottles of Spanish beer, 1 bottle of another imported beer...I was hammered...then midnight hit.
At midnight all the older fraternity guys came out and dragged me, literally, to the bars. After the 1st shot I blacked out. I remember bits and pieces...yelling at a bouncer because his beard sucks, telling everyone they have nice teeth, and "dancing" in the street. When I got back to my house more people were there to see me. I was incoherent though. I woke up at 7:55 with a black eye and a biocalc quiz to do at 8:00 a.m. I was still drunk through the majority of the day.

I was stressing about making everyone happy while still trying to talk to the French girls. I was worried about no one showing up...but that didn't happen at all. Girls were making out, people were dancing and playing pong, and I spent the majority of the night in the kitchen with chocolate cake and the girls that I tutored.

I had so many thoughts as it was happening. This is the moment. It was phenomenal. That day, and now, I had a feeling of irresponsible confidence that was brought on by the realization: Life is passing.

After thinking about it I realized that the black eye was from the bedpost.

It's so much easier to ask a friend out when you're 21. No holds barred on your account.

A few interests are coming in and school work is going well. I seem to be totally on top of things, with the exception of integrals in calculus.

Easter: a family time. The spazztic feelings of hatred toward my brother gradually subsided during dinner when I realized the contradiction: how am I supposed to help the world when I can't accept my own brother.

Psychoanalyzing myself again: I put up defense mechanisms because of the way I was treated by him when I was younger. Angry, quick to rationalize, intense, physical, and withdrawing from conflict are all ways that I dealt with his autism.

During dinner I talked to him. More than the "get a job" or "grow up" that I usually spit at him. He talked about when we were kids. When he did...there was a bizarre sense of backward remorse.

A brother is a huge bond. Beyond parents even. He was the impetus for me to leave home...I wouldn't have said "yes" to OU if he wasn't at home...blocking all my plans. This has been great though, leaving. I needed to get some sunlight so I could grow here. more or less.

The fact that he has a kid and a job now makes me so happy. Perhaps he's growing up, in a weird way.

I used to lead the attack against him, verbally taking jabs anytime I could...but I really realized that I want to help him when I was talking with Vanessa. I struggled through mouthing the words: "deep down, below the disorder. He really is caring."
This is the first nice thing I've said about my brother.

Being back in the lab has been great. Dr. Chen has me running reactions and starting isolation projects all by myself. He wants 10 unique colonies by the end of the week.
Speaking of this, I have to get going.
Initiating new guys has taken up a lot of my time. Still, going out this wednesday is going to be a blast.