Lukewarm

In the last month I have been called "pensive" at least half a dozen times by at least a quarter-dozen people. I had never been called pensive before so I really didn't know what it meant. I though it was another word for careful or hesitant but webster.com defines it as:

1 : musingly or dreamily thoughtful
2 : suggestive of sad thoughtfulness

Urbandictionary.com defines it as:

Pensive is an awesome "diet punk" band from San Diego California. They have an awesome unique sound. A blend between awesome riffs and catchy lyrics. They are every fans dream, they have an AWESOME street team and are very friendly to all their fans and are intact with their core.

So basically, I've turned into the Hu.

I don't know when this happened. As I write this, I'm watching the Heat and Mavs play in the NBA finals 89-89 with under a minute left. I still remember the night of May 5 when Damon Jones (Cavs) hit that game-winning shot in OT to knock off the Wizards and I couldn't stop smiling (I have a PDF copy of the next day's Cleveland Plain Dealer - the other top story was Patrick Kennedy getting arrested). (It's now 91-91 with under 30 seconds left.)

Since I've left Providence (since I've been gone, if you will), I haven't really had a cathartic, "oh shit, I graduated" moment. (It's now 93-93 with 2.8 seconds remaining. Terry misses the GW - we're going to OT.) Has anyone else? I remember in high school, right after graduation, we walked across the "courtyard" to the "dining room" for the reception. While my classmates were content to cheer joyfully, I lost it and started screaming, "Fuck this school! I'm done with this shit! Fuck this shit!" I certainly didn't think that would happen post-Brown but I'm waiting for something to happen to get me out of this pensive state. Indeed, I am steeping here in Cleveland.

Since I've been back in Cleveland, I have settled into familiar habits. I'm working at Black Studies during the week and doing every house and yardwork task imaginable for my mom on weekends. (Mavs 98-97 with 38 secs left in OT). I'll be in Cape Cod next week with the parents (my mom's got a workshop there) and in DC with the Mike's the following week. (Heat 99-98 with 29.8 seconds left).

By far, the best time I've had in Cleveland was watching the ECW (Extreme Championship Wrestling) One Night Stand Pay-Per-View. (Mavs 100-99 with 9.1 seconds left.) I'm tellling you, this was the single greatest media event of 2006. DaVinci Code has nothing on Mick Foley hitting Terry Funk with a 2x4 wrapped in barbed-wire lit on fire onto and through a table also wrapped in barbed wire. I could write a whole 'nother thesis on that but instead I suggest you YouTube search "ECW One Night Stand" and enjoy. (Heat win 101-100, what a game). Now imagine watching that on a converted movie screen at a bar on Coventry. Now that's some fucking ambience. I don't care what anybody says, wrestling fans are some of the smartest folk this nation has to offer. From Wikipedia, some of the chants the fans at the arena directed at the wrestlers:

• Fuck you Retard directed at Eugene (whose gimmick is that he's "slow")
  
• Where's my pizza? directed at the Full Blooded Italians
• You suck dick! directed at JBL during his promo and during Jerry Lawler's entrance.
• She's a crack whore! directed at Lita
• Pussy! directed at Randy Orton after leaving the ring to recover various times during his match
• Break his ankle! directed at Kurt Angle to injure Randy Orton with Ankle Lock
• Fuck him up, Angle, fuck him up! directed at Kurt Angle in
  his match with Orton (This chant was also used several times over the
  night, directed at different wrestlers.)
• We want fire! chanted during the Funk/Dreamer/Beulah vs Edge/Foley/Lita match
• You sick fuck! directed at Edge and Mick Foley after suplexing a barbwire covered piece of plywood on Terry Funk
• This is awesome! chanted during the Funk/Dreamer/Beulah vs Edge/Foley/Lita match

Shit wasn't pensive. On the other blog I'm gonna do a longer post on the political lessons to be learned from professional wrestling but, for now, the biggest lesson of ECW ONS'06:

People love belonging to a pack. Especially one that allows members to validate uncomfortable truths that are deeper than the insensitivity they appear to perpetuate by appealing to the absurdity that underlies them. In these special moments in time, you can get a crowd to cheer for Zell Miller calling a war hero a pussy or for the Sandman beating a retard into submission.

I'm not quite sure what the parallel example is for us but I've enjoyed being a part of our pack.