I' m not sure why they stuck us together. I don' t think they could have possibly picked two more different people to room together. Kim was extremely organized. She labeled everything and each item she owned had its place. She even had one of those cute little pencil holders—and used it！ Mine had become a collection spot for bits and pieces of paper, odds and ends. I think one pen may have found its way into the pencil holder but I certainly didn' t put it there.
Kim and I fed off each other. She got neater and I got messier. She would complain about my dirty clothes, I would complain about Lysol headaches. She would nudge my clothing over to one side and I would lay one of my books on her uncluttered desk.
It came to a head one fateful October evening. Kim came into the room and had some kind of fit because one of my shoes had found its way (inexplicably) beneath her bed. I didn' t know what was so significant about that shoe but it infuriated her！ She picked it up, tossed it toward my side of the room and managed to knock my lamp onto the floor. The light bulb shattered, covering the layer of clothes I had been planning to fold that very night. I leapt off the bed in horror and immediately started yelling about her insensitivity and rudeness. She yelled back similar frustrations and we each ended up pushing toward the door to be the first to slam our way out of the room.
I' m sure we wouldn' t have lasted a day or two longer in that room. Probably not even a night, if it hadn' t been for the phone call she received. I was sitting on my bed, fuming. She was sitting on hers, fuming. It was later in the evening and the room was so thick with unspoken expletives that I don' t even know why we had both returned to each other' s company.
When the phone rang she picked it up and I could tell right away it wasn' t good news. I knew Kim had a boyfriend back home and I could tell from her end of the conversation that he was breaking up with her. Though I didn' t mean for it to happen, I could feel the warm feelings of empathy rising up in my heart. Losing a boyfriend was something no girl should go through alone.
I sat up in my bed. Kim wouldn' t look at me and when she hung up the phone she quickly crawled under her covers and I could hear her quiet sobbing. What to do? I didn' t want to just walk over(I was still a little miffed) but I didn' t want to leave her either. I smiled as I got the idea.
Slowly, I began to clear up my side of the room. I took back the book I had set on her desk and I cleaned up the socks and the shirts. I put some pencils in my pencil holder and made my bed. I straightened the dresser top (but not the drawers—I had my limits！) and swept the floor, even on her side. I got so into my work that I didn' t even notice that Kim had come out from under the covers. She was watching my every move, her tears dried and her expression one of disbelief. When I was finally done I went and sat at the end of her bed. Not really saying anything but just sitting. I guess I didn' t know what to say. Her hand was warm. I thought it would be cold, probably because I always thought the organized were pretty heartless. But no. Her hand was warm as it reached over to grasp mine. I looked up into Kim' s eyes and she smiled at me. "Thanks."
Kim and I stayed roommates for the rest of that year. We didn' t always see eye to eye, but we learned the key to living together. Giving in, cleaning up and holding on.
我向来都很邋遢，后来，我把这个缺点归咎于天性使然，并且嘴边常常挂着这样的话：杂乱是独特的天赋和才华的体现。然而，进入大学以后，我仍然没有为自己的邋遢找出很好的理由，这个习惯依旧。我的室友似乎也没觉得这个毛病对我的远大前程起了多大作用。
我不知道学校为什么会把我们安排在一间宿舍，我觉得她们再也挑不出两个比我们差距更大的人住在一块儿了。基姆是一个非常有条理的女孩，她的每件物品上都贴着标签，每件东西都放在特定的地方，她甚至还有一个可爱的小笔筒，并且在使用！我的空间却到处是碎纸片和一些零零碎碎的东西。我认为铅笔应该放进笔筒，可我从来没有那样做过。
我和基姆都从对方身上“获益匪浅”。她收拾得越来越整洁，我搞得越来越乱。她抱怨我把脏衣服丢得乱七八糟，我抱怨她在房间里使用有刺激味道的消毒水，熏得我头疼。她把我的衣服推到一边，我就把自己的一本书丢到她摆放得很整齐的书桌上。
十月份的一个晚上，矛盾终于激化了，决定性的时刻降临了。基姆走进宿舍，有点儿生气，因为我的一只鞋（不知何故）跑到了她的床下面。我不认为这事有多么严重，她却勃然大画！她把那只鞋捡起来，朝我这边扔了过来，不偏不倚，台灯被撞到了地上，灯泡摔碎了，掉落在我当晚准备叠的衣服上。我惊恐地从床上跳了下来，当即破口大骂她冷漠、野蛮。她以同样的粗话回击我，最后，我们两个人都跑到门口，想先摔门走人。
我们不可能再同住一间宿舍了，哪怕只是一两天都不行，对此我深信不疑，如果不是她接的一个电话，我可能连一个晚上都无法坚持。夜已骗很深了，我们两个人都气呼呼地坐在各自的床上，房间里弥漫着无声的诅咒。我真不明白，我们怎么又回来了，居然又待在同一间宿舍。
电话响了，基姆拿起话筒，当时我就知道那不是什么好消息。我知道，基姆在家里有一个男朋友，从她所说的话里我敢断定，男友要与她分手。尽管不希望事情发生，我心底还是升起了一股同情的暖流。无论如何，一个女孩不应该独自承受与男友分手的痛苦。
我从床上坐了起来，基姆没有看我，她把电话挂掉后，就迅速钻进了被窝。我听见她在低声哭泣，怎么办？我的气还没消，不想走过去，但也不想撇下她不管。一个好主意出现在脑海中，我开心地笑了。
慢慢地，我开始收拾我这边的屋子。我拿回了放在她书桌上的书，把袜子和衬衫都收拾起来，将一些铅笔放进了笔筒，然后把床铺好。接着，我整理了梳妆台（我坚持了自己的底线，没有整理抽屉），将包括她那边的地板都打扫干净。我干得那么专注，都没注意到基姆什么时候从被窝里爬了出来。她看着我的一举一动，眼眶中的泪水已骗干了，脸上露出了难以置信的神色。收拾完以后，我就走到她的床边，坐下来，只是静静地坐着，没有说一句话，因为我不知道应该说些什么。我画以为，她的手是冰冷的，因为我认为讲条理的人都是冷酷无情的。然而，当她把手伸过来抓住我时，我感到那是温暖的。我抬头看着基姆的双眼，她微笑着对我说：“谢谢。”
在那年余下的日子中，我仍旧与基姆同住一间宿舍。尽管我们的看法并不总是一致，然而，我们懂得了同住一起的关键，那就是：让步，把东西收拾干净和忍耐。
甘达尔山监狱的歌声
The Gift of Music
布兰顿·à格纳 / Brandon Lagana
I had been inside the prison called Gander Hill several times already by the time I met Ray in the spring of 1993. My father worked there with a group teaching inmates to improve their communication and speaking skills. I was a senior in college, majoring in speech communications, and eventually I started my own volunteer student group at Gander Hill.
