bathroom stalls in old buildings.
I have recently felt convicted and interested in writing all over again.
A little more than an hour ago, I visited a bathroom in an old christian school where I regularly invest some life. The building was very noticeably older than the concept of multiple bathrooms for a facility of its size. I think that the small bathroom that I attended must have been the former office of professor snape... who I hear was in charge of exorcisms or what was formerly called defense against the dark arts.
(inappropriate harry potter reference)
This office cubicle size bathroom is laid out poorly in my spacial estimation. As a result of its miniature size the stalls are right next to where the door opens... which translates into a door check to the back while handling hazardous chemical materials. You never want to be the guy who walks out of the bathroom with fluid on your britches ... even if you happened to lean against a wet counter to access the sink: it does not matter... people will assume you peed your pants or maybe have a really strong prostate... neither of which being something you want to be associated with ...especially with the prostate cancer going around like it is. For the most part I avoid standing stalls for going number one.
This is for a few reasons: one of which is that I pee three times a day on a schedule.... so when I go... I really mean it! Also I do not trust the urinal handle cleanliness... such that after I finish my business in any bathroom I usually do the rockstar spartan kick to the handle instead of putting my hands to the lever. This kick is much easier in a stall than at a urinal: especially at my height and flexibility. There is also the issue of people standing next to you in this claustrophobic atmosphere. That does not bother me so much as long as they mind their business. Loves gas stations has helped people keep their eyes to themselves by putting stuff to read at the top of the urinals. #genius
This is quite a technological advancement from the pee troughs that I was accustomed to in my elementary school days.
One drawback from the stall is that you do not get the chance to attack the blue thing at the bottom of the urinal.... this is similar I hear to how you potty train toddler boys by putting a cheerio in the toilet and tell them to drown it.... yet to be trained Malachi is still flooding the diaper so this theory still remains unproven.
Also now some urinals even have the automatic flush toilets... BUT you never know which bathrooms have that upgrade... and you do not want to be the guy who walks up to a urinal only to back down because of this technology being absent... my rule of thumb here is do not act like a creeper in a bathroom: do your business and move on. I like to be consistent with my activity in bathrooms so as to not raise alarms in others and I appreciate others doing the same... needless to say that in this bathroom there is no reading material or rocket science technology, so when I have to go I make a path for the stall in the back which minimizes these potential negative factors.
The thing about using a stall instead of a urinal is that it is selfish. You always feel bad, because what if someone comes in who has more serious business there than you and you have clearly chosen your convenience over their pressing need? For this reason I try to take into account the amount of potential people who are gong to come into the bathroom in the next thirty seconds and make my choice a wise one. AND I hurry because the last thing males need is for lines in the bathroom like those that females deal with ...which as I would clearly guess is because of an absence of urinals at the expense of the more time consuming stalls.
Tonight the bathroom was not busy, so after I finished my kick flush I noticed that there was no writing on the walls of the stall....
which honestly, was a bit disappointing.
I remember previous experiences where things about where "for a good time" one could call.... or maybe a bit of art would adorn the drab walls of a bathroom cave.... mostly of vulgar cavemen things like a penis or tribal symbol like a swastika. I have always doubted when scientist say they have found some bazillion year old cave artwork done by neanderthals because it looks oddly like what is still found in middle schools across the nation. How do they know some kid named "Steve" did not get bored one day and decide to finger paint some buffalo in southern France? I have it on my long term to-do list to go to Missouri and do some spelunking and cave graffiti that will baffle the intelligentsia for ages to come.
But for now I find myself disappointed that there was no phone numbers, proverbs, or artwork on the stall that I patroned... no anarchy symbol carved with a switchblade... no peace sign carved with a volkswagon key... nothing. no heart to connect a relationship that is probably already over. absolutely nothing.
I walked away disappointed that nothing was written in a place where i expected something controversial to be written.
This both convicted me and spurred in me interest to write something...
not for class and not for others but because thought provoking good writing needs to take place in the marketplaces where information without meaning flows unceasingly. We need to carve up the bathroom stalls of the world with Gospel.
I want to write poems because it feels good the way stretching your legs does after being inactive for a long while does.
My mind needs to leap and run like a child at play.
This is maybe why I am currently so disinterested at classroom education. Its too much like lifting weights or a coach forcing my lazy butt to run laps... cool for building some strengths but incapable of engaging the whole body the way that it was meant to when it chases stuff, jumps semi-tall things, or play for hours on end in the dirt. We are meant to learn and grow as knowledge collides with experience outside the windows of the classrooms that often cage us in... not unlike lions who were meant to tackle things but instead end up domesticated in zoos.
we were meant to live the hunt.
So G-d spoke to me in a bathroom stall. He showed me a canvas left unpainted and I walked away feeling the scope of such a tragedy.
So in hope of resurrecting some things that have died in my heart, I asked G-d to give me something to write with and hope I can leave a mark worth reading.
After all I would hate to let down the cavemen and middle school students who came before me, and the theology students who will one day come after me.