The Battle of Halaa

I never really figured out how to spell her name, all i was aware of was her true beauty. We're talking less than 5% body fat, hourglass curves, skin milkier than mine. I was jealous. It was the beginning of the school year, my decision to leave the comforts of Leoncio and the misunderstanding asian (and steve) roommates for the wild life of partying during the off seasons with my cross country comrades. Five guys, four rooms, a party house of our own, and a davis network known for the accessability of a keg for those willing and able to spend the five minutes calling around to find it.

We planned our first party for two weeks after we moved in, when the freshmen would be at the school, before the school year actually started. It would be an underwear party, there would be a mandatory strip at the door for those who chose not to comply. I sent the word out to my old friends from the Sacramento area and we set to work planning a guest list (that would later be thrown aside in favor of the randomness of the evening).

Enter Halah, a freshman cross country hopeful who came over at the invitiation of our resident partyboy Chris Ferren lovingly called Ferrets by the runners. Ferrets had declared his intentions for one of the new freshmen and invited three of them over to shop for the party. One of the girls, to my surprise, was a young so-cal Ethiopian chick complete with the suburbian accents one picks up in a middle class neighborhood. I made it a point to ignore her as best I could. Never flaunt your interests.

Our shopping complete, the party planned for the next saturday, I had barely said any words to Halaa, just some minor quips about the difference between a Norcal and Socal accent, lifestyle, elitism.

The party: the party begins with some freshly baked brownies given to me as a gift from a female associate with connections to good pot trim and excellent baking abilities. The brownies were so fresh, I did not have time to test them and as such warned everyone who had shown up for a pre party to only eat a single brownie, anything else would lead to sickness or comotose behavior. I walk outside to smoke a joint with a friend, come back in and find half the brownies missing. I see a group of giggling runners in a corner, a few roommates included and I just sigh, knowing what their night had in store for them.

Halaa shows up with a friend from socal, both wearing revealing victoria's secret tops and panty bottoms. She makes it a point to start calling me norcal boy. Using unrelenting undertones of sniveness to both keep my attention and garnish a reaction. I counter by hitting on her friend and ignoring her putdowns. We find each other on the dance floor 20-30 minutes later (2-3 drinks in at this point) and I declare my intentions to make amends, stop the catty attitudes, and start anew. We finish the song by dancing together in agreement. An handshake with bodies and bumpandgrind.

(4-5 drinks at this point) Halaa finds me and mentions she saw me chewing gum earlier in the evening. I pause to remember that I am still chewing but had forgotten where or how gum got into my mouth. I think a little longer and mention the gum resides in my bedroom, down the hall. We make haste towards the door, I give her gum, she makes some off comment about the size of my bed, I ignore her and leave the room laughing.

(7-9 drinks and an hour's worth of smoking + edibles) I am no longer myself. I am walking around a house filled with nearly naked (and sometimes naked) people in a pair of echo boxers when Halaa finds me agian outside. She wispers into my ear "I think you should show me your room again." I make an attempt to hide my perplexed state, I do not know what she is hinting at and remain this way for a good 10 seconds before my brain clicks back on. I let out a drunken giggle and guide her back to my room. She attempts to say something but I'm already kissing her. We're already on the bed, the lights are out.

Her first question during the heat of battle: "Have you ever hooked up with any of the other cross country runners?" I find myself incapable of telling a lie, I am too euphoric and nothing can touch me. "Sure," I respond. "There was a night when I hooked up with Sharks (another runner, my grade) last year. It was only a single night and she wasnt goign for it minus the alcohol, besides shes taken now. Sharks is a great girl." She seems taken aback by my answer but does not leave my side. The sheets are getting knocked off the bed, things are getting heavier, when suddenly there is a knock on the door.

Its Ferrets on a search for me, high as a kite, eyes redder than I've ever seen them. He walks in after I respond to the knock and asks "oh man are you hooking up with Halah? "
"Yes..." I respond with a cocky overtone. Ferret's lets out one of his pantented high pitch laughs (the genuine kind) and walks into the room to have a conversation. He gets four steps in before I let my intentions to be alone known and he just turns around laughing, and leaves the door open. I get up to close it and notice that I am now spinning, things are getting more convoluted but that will not stop my purpose for being in the room. I turn back to Halah, minorly shaken up but otherwise still ok. I close the door and we continue.

A Losing Battle
We are now in the heat of things, again. There are no questions being asked just clothes being torn off. I find myself still int he boxers, but they're at my knees. Her top has come off yet the panties remain. The door opens again. This time it's her friend searching for her. She walks in on a site she had not prepared for. "OH my GOD!" she exclaims and runs out of the room. The thought crosses my mind that maybe she had wanted to hook up with me and be in Halah's position, I shrug this off as alcohol egotism and return to my task. Halah is even more shaken by these events. "Why dont you lock the door?" She asks.
"We Just moved here, theres no lock on any of the doors," I respond. Things progress a little further before the final interuption. Chris Blehm had shown up to the party and was searching for me. He found my bedrooma nd walked in. "Woah!!" he laughs and walks out. Halah cant take anymore, she grabs her clothes and bolts out the door saying "I cant do this!" as she runs. I shrug in my drunkeness and figure since I'm already in bed and intoxicated beyond belief that I shall remain there. I don't get the chance however when Jordan Roderiguez and a few others show up and drag me out to drink more. Halah has not given up trying to hide her shame.

Later in the evening, after I've blacked out, I get a ride to in and out to get burgers. I order burgers for everyone we're with (hooray poker winnings) and then ask my roommate how we're goign to get home...as I did not remember the trip there in the first place. Halah is sitting across from me doing her best to avoid any look in my direction.


I lost the battle of Halaa...she began spreading rumors that I was stalking her, That I would follow her to parties and around campus. Sadly I had spoken maybe two words to her after the incident. "Hello and goodbye." It got so bad that new runners were warned about me, male runners told my roomates they "werent sure about me." I would see her at school and she would cross the street to avoid me.

No big blow to my ego, Halah may have won the battle, but only because she was batshit insane.

Old poems and raw fiction

I started this blog out of inspiration of a friend who began expressing himself through the blog space so thoroughly I felt I could hear his voice through prose. I believe there is true power to be attained in the ability to make someone hear your voice in their head as they read your words. As it stands, it is 6:00am and I have been up all night browsing the internet - reading the news, pirating music, watching porn, and searching for a new interest of the hour. Each activity a common nightly routine. Sadly, this is not my first attempt at the blogging world.

My first attempt was more a time capsule for my old writing style. A place keeper to remind me of my immaturity, my emotions, and my inability to fully express myself. Old poems and raw fiction unedited and turned in as classwork during my short tenure at UC Davis. Lets see if I can find any gems that standout.
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...yeah lets not go there...

Luckily for me I have two first names making it near impossible to search out that blog (which still exists from 2003). It would take quite an effort to dig through the depths of google before anyone found it. Hidden, just the way I like it. Anyways...

I have named this blog Insomniatic because I feel sometimes that I am addicted to sleep deprivation. I enjoy seeing the sun set and then rise systematically as the west coast sleeps. I enjoy the "in between." My focus will be on what you miss when your eyes are closed. When the veil is pulled. When you are content with rest I shall be immersed in the story behind the story. At a constant war with myself over validity. Always resting with truth.