Chapter Ten: Andrew Crosses the Rubicon

For those of you who don't know, I'm avidly involved in my school's debate team. The topics inevitably discuss some aspect of government policy. To many in the general citizenry, these debates are snoozers, spiritless, and stale. But in this complex world of cerebral chess via argumentation, I am in my element.

Accordingly, I pursued my love for debate to the limits of nerd. Every summer of high school I attended a debate camp so that I might hone my mental quickness, creative jests, and word economy. This past summer it was the Whitman National Debate Institute (WNDI) at the prestigious Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington. Despite the uncanny name, the WNDI was one of the better camps for high schoolers in the country. Off the bat there was a high pressure to succeed. These people would more than likely be my competition on the national circuit when the time came. I immediately began to size up the competition.

Most of the people there could be described in one phrase: "pseudo intellectual." Although, there were still a fair amount of intelligent, funny, interesting people at the camp who were legitimately interested in humbling acquiring knowledge. The reality is that most debaters there were talkers. Swift talkers who really, really liked to talk about themselves. Especially frustrating were the pretentious hipsters. These 'renegades' of American culture, they liked to assume airs of superiority as they broadcasted idiotic dissertations about Nietzsche, the economics of energy, and the otherwise intellectually stimulating. Their conclusions were most often false, obvious, or unoriginal.

As the first few days of the camp unfolded, I was able to simply sit back and let the others expose their own weaknesses. I was content with staying quiet and absorbing information. There was nothing I liked more than letting others talk circles around themselves, then going in with the scalpel of efficient argumentation and systematically dismantling and discrediting their talking points.

He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious. - Sun Tzu, The Art of War.

As I rapidly gained more confidence in my own debate abilities I was overlooking crucial errors I had made in other sectors of life. I was in for a rude awakening.

One day, going through the usual email rituals an unexpected email from my mom caught my eye. The subject line sent my heart racing.

Where did the “pot” in a white folded piece of paper on top of the freezer downstairs come from?

How could I have been so careless! In those days, just months ago, I was woefully unprepared to handle my mother's powerful convictions. I felt ashamed of my behavior and compelled to acquiesce to my mom's decisions. Things have changed a bit since those days. The following is the rest of that day's email dialogue with my mom.

"i tried it after we got back from lithuania. i didn't like being in that altered state, and i haven't done it since."

Where did you get it?

"someone from work"

How did you smoke it, and with whom? Also, this means you were driving my car with this in your possession from work to home?

"Out of a joint, by myself. It was after Tyler left. And yeah I drove with it."

This cannot be correct because there was not a “joint” in the piece of paper, only loose pot. More important, don’t you know this is illegal and that I can personally have your license pulled. So, to avoid this happening, I want you to tell me truthfully what happened and I promise you it will go no further, not even a mention to dad about this. I am not stupid Andrew. I just want you to be truthful with me.

"I guess I just left the loose pot lying around. The reason there was no joint was because I smoked it. (DUH! -added later) I know it's illegal but I also felt the need to experiment. It wasn't with Tyler, it was one night when ____ and ____ were spending the night. I didn't like it, neither did ____ or _____. I told _____ about it, and before I tried it I talked to _____ about it and she didn't recommend it at all. _____ wasn't very happy and I regret it."

Okay. Well, go and have a good day!

First lesson, honesty fails as often as it succeeds with parents. Second lesson, be more careful. Third lesson, my mom has the ability to go from crazy to seemingly normal in seconds. This could prove tricky to handle.

This is when my mom first started to really getting a footing in terms of controlling my decisions. My mom was now suspicious of these afformentioned friends, despite their spotless grades and disciplinary records. To make matters worse, my mom began to associate potential drug use with my recent break-up, an association that led her to assume that the next logical consequence would be the rest of my life getting flushed down the toilet.

Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned. To my mom, this was her mandate. This is why she was justified in aggressively curbing back my privacy. Her nosiness, her rummaging through my things, her monitoring of my text messages were all there simply to help me. Yes, because I was the one with a substance abuse problem. I could just imagine my mom taking deep relaxing drags of her Marlboro lights between raiding my dressers for evidence of my wrongdoings. Not to mention memories of my alcohol-scented father dispensing family wisdom between sips of beer.

It's better to have loved and lost than to be stuck with some bitch for the rest of your life. -Ken G.

My self-destructive lifestyle was clearly evident in my rock bottom grades and unhealthy friendships. I was obviously letting malicious friends pilot my life and influence my every decision for the worst. My mom saw me as no more than a slave to chemicals.

Well, actually, I had well over a 4.0 at that point, and my most influential friends give great risk-averse advice. But I guess it's easy to confuse the two when you're so bent on reaching a foregone conclusion that it blinds you to anything else.