By Justin Moore
Day 5: Fri., Jan. 16
It’s getting harder to sleep. These vivid dreams seem to start happening more and more frequently. I’m having to trick myself into falling asleep, then when I do, I get woken up by some crazy subconscious hallucination that surprises me into consciousness.
The daylight hours are full of stomach pain, muscle weakness, and the bland taste of stale water. I can’t really get out of bed for more than a few hours, which means I can still get things done, but I have no free time.
I’ve become a slave to my depleted energy supply. I started this because I want to make a free choice about my money, now I’m struggling with my own body as to what a free choice means to my tummy.
Am I being fair to myself? Then I go to sleep for an hour, see a giant sponge dressed in a red cape surrounded by stars, wake up, rinse, repeat.
Day 6: Sat., Jan. 17
It’s still really hard to sleep. It’s hard to think. It’s getting hard to separate the real from the imaginary.
I think not sleeping is starting to affect my perception. I should note that I had pre-existing sleeping problems before I started this strike. I usually only sleep a few hours a night anyway. Maybe the combination of the two isn’t the best thing for me. But guess what? I’m driving up to Washington D.C. tomorrow to see history go down. I know its probably not a good idea. There is a potential that I could get very sick, but what can you really get from life without a little risk? I’m packing all my things now, and I can’t really figure out why I’m doing this.
I don’t want to see anybody get exploited, for whatever reason, that’s just the kind of dude I am. But nobody is doing this with me, I have had no response from the administration, and most of the days it was too cold for me to even stand out there for long.
I’m torturing myself for nothing. What could be my savior? What could deliver me from this hell? What could be my Jesus? A bacon-cheese chalupa. Good-god yes. I really hope somebody hears about this soon. I think I’m slipping in and out of dreams without noticing until too late.
Day 7: Sun., Jan. 18
It’s really early in the morning, and I’m writing this on my phone as the cold bites into my eyes. I’m out having my morning smoke.
I wish I was a super hero, maybe we are all super heroes and I’m just a passing thought of what could have been in the head of Super Justin. No, no, I’d totally call myself ‘The Hammer.’ I keep having this weird existential third-person dilemma. I feel like I’m living my whole life as if I am telling a story to somebody else.
But I’m not narrating to a different person, I’m talking to myself. So it’s like instead of thinking, I just talk to myself. I don’t hate the feeling. It’s just something weird to realize about yourself.
I’m headed to Baltimore in a little bit, hopefully by this time tomorrow I’ll have some kind of communication from the administration and I’ll have some sort of communication with a cheeseburger. Like communicating it into my mouth, if you know what I mean.
Today being the last day, I keep looking back on the scope of things. I haven’t had food in almost a week solid. That’s crazy!
I’m fighting for something important to me, but in the grand scheme is it really worth it? With the situation being what it is in the Gaza Strip, I feel like I’m being selfish by fighting for something so small.
I guess that’s what I really want to accomplish with this. I want the student body to realize that our power to protest is our super power. By using mine on something small, the student body can realize how powerful it is because they can see how much of it I’m wasting fighting for something so insignificant.
I’m bringing the hammer down on the administration. I want to rally the student body to fight and see how the university can be everything that we want it to, I want us to realize in unison how much power we have and how much we can change if we all agree.
We would all agree on things that are best for the students, because we are the students. So I suppose, my whole protest boils down to that, I want to rally the students to their potential in all aspects. I would also like some Rally’s.
Day 8: Mon., Jan. 19
MMMM!! Smell that salty air. Hear those happy gulls. It feels like the warm embrace of the east coast. I’ve decided to break my strike. I feel like all of the students that I could reach have been reached, and those that want to take it further will do so soon. What was the first thing I ate?
I had a real cheese steak. I wish I would have taken a picture of it, I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life. It was full of meat and cheese and peppers and all sorts of other delicious goodies. It was about 14 inches long, and I got about two bites in before I decided my stomach would ACTUALLY explode if I ate any more.
About 10 minutes later, my stomach did explode. Well, it didn’t ACTUALLY explode, but I did say a prayer to the porcelain gods. I didn’t eat for the rest of the day. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, and now I’m invincible. I now know that I can do anything I say I can do, and I think anybody that walks the walk, can too.
