mwestbelle

My roommate difficulties, let me show you them.

I love my roomie. We get along really well, like lots of the same things, and spend enough time apart to be pleasant together. Or rather, I love her when she's sober. I understand that college is a place of crazed debauchery and bacchanalia, whatever. Thing is, I live in the substance-free dorm for a reason. If you want to go do tequila shots with soccer players you don't know, don't live in freaking substance free!!! All you do is annoy everyone else on the floor when you come stumbling back here and need help up the stairs.

Also: if you're going to throw a depressed bitchfit every time you make a poor, emotionally damaging choice about men...hey, here's an idea, get a fucking clue! You've hooked up with guys you met that morning (Not even drunkenly!), you've gone to Madison (and then hooked up with) a guy you barely knew (and you sleep over at his room half the time which is actually kinda nice, since I get the room to myself), and you (drunkenly this time) gave a guy you'd NEVER MET BEFORE a blowjob, completely naked...in the LOUNGE. You know, the place downstairs where everyone comes in with the wall of WINDOWS that the entire campus can see in???? And every time you cry, and wonder why your life is so hard, and why that guy downstairs could be SO HATEFUL to make an off-color comment. You don't want to be thought of as the dorm slutbag? Stop being the dorm slutbag!

The emotionless hook-up is so not my thing, but the real problem is it's not her thing either. She goes "oh, I don't even like him, I don't know if I'm ever going to even talk to him again" but then every hour it's "he hasn't called me, why didn't he call me back, do you think I should call him again???"

And I want to help, because I'm having trouble with the whole "it's her life, she can fuck it all to hell if she wants to, not my problem" mostly because she keeps sexiling me but half of what she bitches about are her friends back home who have the nerve to be concerned about her and tell her she's making shitty decisions. Uh...duh?

Rrrgh. Everything is so awesome, except for roomie and her intimacy issues. I hope it clears up.

PS: Her current boytoy is a dickwad. "Boytoy" in the sense that they have an "open relationship" (yes, the same thing she was in with her boyfriend from home when she got here, that she couldn't stop bitching about how it was such a sham) which means that she can get drunk and fellate other guys in public places, but when she hears that he saw his ex over the weekend she gets insanely pissed and rants about dumping him (which she's decided to do, oh, five times?)

Before anything boring and me-related: EEEE! Harry Potter THEME PARK!!!! The crushing sense of ZOMGAWSUM is currently battling a raging sense of "they are so going to fuck this up".

So, I got my (zomg) very last HS yearbook today. It makes everything feel a lot more final, which is both groovtastic and terrifying. But that is not the story I am here to relate.

Now, we all know the Yearbook Signing Protocol, yes? Lots of "great times!" "you're the sweetest!" "good luck" and "keep in touch", right? Well, there's a certain person who I have discussed *numerous* times on this blog because of her pure WTFery and utter lack of any idea how to deal with humans. We'd been close in the past, but I've been kind of...passive-aggressivly avoiding her this year. I mean, I talk to her and everything, but I don't initiate. So after yearbooks were received, and she gave a half-hearted "Anyone who wants to sign it can" (it's not just me. I don't think she has a single actual friend, which would make me feel bad, except she annoys me that much), so I thought, "Hey. We're graduating. I never have to see this person again. I'll be nice and sign her yearbook."

I sign hers, she signs mine. My note is appropriately cheerful and vague. Hers?

"You've been a great friend thru most of high school. Too bad we've grown apart these last few months." (emphasis mine)

Uh...what? Do you not get the concept? This is not a confessional or therapy...this is a yearbook. This is where you write "I love you! Call me!" to people you've despised since the first moment you saw them. It's high school, dammit, isn't everything supposed to be fake?? I don't really know why this bugs me so much, but it does. I guess it's kind of an issue of demented fairness: I haven't mentioned to you how I hate you, in return, you're not supposed to acknowledge it. I don't really care that she doesn't like me...but now, for always and ever, my senior yearbook is going have that snippy little note in it. Grrgh.

Well, I finished "If You've a Ready Mind," the stunning Ravenclaw!Draco story that is so good it makes me sick. No, seriously, when I get nervous or upset about something, my stomach goes all twisty--and Maya made me care so much about her Draco that I felt like that just reading about it. It's reading stuff like that that, while thrilling for the reader side of me, makes the writer side of me want to commit ritualistic suicide in a last-ditch attempt to preserve some appearance of honor. More simply: Reader!Me "Wow, Maya rocks! I love this story!" Writer!Me "Oh god I suck so bad." Oh well. Nothing I can do about it...hopefully some actual creative writing classes will help.

Feeling useless. My best friend is going through a break-up, which I have never experienced, so I feel woefully inadequate to help. I don't know what to say, or whether it would be better not to say anything or...I'm just lost. And I've noticed that in this final semester of HS...all the people I'm friends with are starting to get on my nerves just a tad, and all the people I've never liked are somehow exponentially more annoying. Ugh. I'm not ready to move away and do the college thing yet, but I'm SO ready to be done and out of HS.

The fic is in my memories, if anyone's interested.

I haven't really felt the urge to post (or had the time...Hell Week is next week for Music Man, so I won't be on at ALL, and will have much f-backlog.)  It's been kind of a ho-hum/crap week.  First I was struck with the mind-numbing terror of stress (Spanish exam! English exam (Actual Quote: "This is the part everyone fails.")! Spanish play must be memorized by tomorrow! And btw, the AP exams are TWO WEEKS AWAY.)  But that kind of calmed down and went away (well, not the AP part), what with me dominating the Spanish exam, (hopefully) not totally choking on the English one, and doing quite well on my role in Spanish.

Then my sister was named a student of the month in our community AND won first place in an essay contest AND found out that she got two perfect scores on her standardized testing.  I love my sister.  I'm happy for her success.  Shpff.  Like hell.  I *am* genuinely happy that my lil' JuJu is doing well.  As my mom says "She's not *your* competition."  Once again: like HELL.  She is always winning crap!  I have *never* been student of the month in the fucking high school!  I work so freaking hard on everything, and she just WINS STUFF.  I hate it.  I really really do.  And half the stuff she gets, I should have gotten.  I'm not saying that in a creepy way, it's just true.  For example: we both took the ACT when we were in seventh grade.  We got exactly the same score.  SHE gets a certificate and all sorts of crap from the "talented youth" people.  I got nothing.  WTF??  Rrrrgh.  I guess a lot of this is stress about performing well for APs and college, and the fact that she's excelling (which, honestly, so am I, but that's not the point) is bugging me.  I guess I think this is my star-time, and I should be the center of attention for MY awesomeness.  I mean, come on.  I dominated my ACT. I got the maximum amout of financial aid that my college of choice offers.  I'm pulling straight A's with two AP classes.  Acknowledge me! >.<  So, in conclusion to this rant: I am a selfish pig.

But with all this crapness going on...yesterday, in the computer lab I was researching the background info for my novel (Their Eyes were Watching God...I just read The Awakening), and my english teacher (a) handed back my analysis of my own poem with "40/40  There is nothing more to say" written on it and (b) thanked me.  She thanked me.  For taking everything seriously, and being a great student, and she told me that she really enjoys reading my writing.  And that...that just made everything okay.

Also: I finished American Psycho (the worst bit for me was the rat), thus ending the ODDEST combination of books in the universe: at the same time as American Psycho I was reading...Dave Barry's Boogers are my Beat.  Yeah.  It couldn't be weirder if I TRIED.  But now I'll get back to Dearly Devoted Dexter, which I've read before but LOVE, so I'm reading it again (Read it. It pwns.) and I have a couple more books from the library, I think.  And!! I got Rocky Horror on my iPod, so things are groovy.  Well, off to the Brat Fry.