an open space

Just a few miles from WWU, there is a liberal arts college called Whitman, known to be filled with liberal, granola intellectuals.

After reading some student run publication, called Secession, that is edgy, smart, well-written and also, completely ridiculous, involving stories making fun of hipsters, or defecating in your pants, told in convoluted esoteric dialogue, I instantly became enamored.

Out of sober curiosity, we crashed a party last weekend in one of the grossest frat houses I've ever seen. At 1 a.m., the floor was so wet with beer and puke and sweat, that I kept finding pieces of wet paper and cardboard stuck to my shoes. There was a mural in the basement, and a scoreboard for beer pong written all over the walls. The winner of the night went by Dean Moriarty, Sal's best friend from Kerouac's On the Road, and I just laughed to myself that even their fake drinking game names came from literary figures.

Beside us were some of the best dancers I've ever seen not via youtube, doing those isolation, pop, locks, glides and break moves, creating an uncomfortable moment where I was displeased to be both uncoordinated, and Adventist (conveniently blaming 50% of the reason I can't dance on the fact that I grew up just never doing it).

And I am completely enraptured with this free-spirited and intellectual subculture of grungy hipsters who ride around town on their fixed gears and look like bums on the street, and contemplate Proust in their free time.

I met a guy on Sunday at Whitman Library, named Russ, who told me as I was leaving, that I could and should study at their library anytime. And I left beaming.

More than most things right now, I want to be a Whittie. ♥