C'est la vie.

There's always such a huge shock when a person you've had feelings for for a long time suddenly starts to reciprocate. It's even more complicated when it's your best friend, and it's even more complicated when you're already dating someone because you thought your best friend was of the wrong sexual orientation.

I don't know what to do, honestly. Part of me knows that this is trouble, this is not good - and part of me's saying, well, maybe it could be good. Or maybe it's just sex, and that's fine. Or maybe we'll make out and she'll realize that she was wrong, that she doesn't want it after all. I just don't know what to do at all.

I can't wait until tomorrow, I'm getting a new tattoo - it'll be my fifth - and then we're going to the mall. And then maybe we'll finally, I don't know, do something. All this skirting around the issues is making me feel bad.

For now I have to study, because I have a huge test tomorrow and I haven't been to the class in weeks. Ah, c'est la vie.

In the car, we drove past the road to my house; "Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

You kept driving. Things fell silent.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little. Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

I watched out the window, familiarity fading into curiosity and then to familiarity again; you drove us to our old school, through our old town, down back roads that I never thought to discover before.

You drove us to a place where we met the sky, where the road lifted up over the trees and over the houses and power lines; a place that made me hold my breath.

"Tell me a secret," you said.

I told you something that would hurt people I care about. I trust you not to tell anyone else.

"Your turn," I said.

"I can't."

"Just tell me."

"No."

We drove back out of the sky, and you dropped me off at home, with promises to see me tomorrow.

And I am left confused.

Drunk, Quit, Threw Up.

Well well, where to begin. This weekend, we had our first real "college night" of the semester. It was me, my room-mate (who is still on the verge of driving me insane, but more about that later), my friend (We'll call her Sadie, to protect her identity and stuff), and my other friend (Tara, more identity protection). We, randomly, decide to get drunk. So at around, like, midnight we go to the grocery store. Sadie's the only one who's actually legal, as far as alcohol goes, so we all pass her some cash. The drinks of the night were orange Smirnoff and Cranberry Mike's. I prefer hard liquor, but that's just me, and the liquor stores close at 11:00.

On the way back, we went through the Dunkin' Donuts drive through. The guy at the counter had a mullet and flirted with Tara, and we were all laughing so hard by then. We hadn't even started drinking. We went to Sadie's dorm room and got to work. We played 'I Never', got sufficiently hammered, and I realized that I totally want Tara when I'm drunk. Normally, I hold myself back. When I'm drunk, I'm all over her. It's bad, but she reciprocates. Nothing really happens, just a lot of hugging, some random groping (which is common in my circle of friends), petting, stuff like that. I mean, I have a girlfriend and I don't cheat on people, but... I don't know. My relationship with my girlfriend is going great, but it's a long-distance thing, and those are hard. I want for it to last, but I don't know if it will. Especially if I get drunk around Tara a lot in the future.

So I woke up the next morning, groaning from a hangover. And what happens? My general manager from the radio station e-mails me. "I need the weekly update done." I do it. Twenty minutes later, another e-mail comes. "I need you to do this this this and this." Basically, by this time, my head is pounding and I'm SO sick of it. So, I snap at him. "Shockingly, I have other things to do than update the site all day. I'm leaving tonight, so it'll have to wait." and he gives me back a, "I don't need your attitude. This is your JOB, you need to do it." I HATE that so much. It's not my job. For jobs, you get paid or reimbursed somehow. Just a 'thank you' or a little bit of respect would be more than enough. They gave away my and my room-mate's radio show to someone else. I mean, hello? How is that respect at all? So I tell him "If this is a job, then I quit."

So yeah. Not a part of that anymore, and I feel relieved that I got out. It's too much stress, especially with his shitty leadership, and I need the time to concentrate on my schoolwork anyway. And actually getting my GPA up.

So, haha, that brings us to today. When I wake up with a migraine, miss two classes, go to get ready for the third and find that the water in the building has been shut off. I throw up a few times from the smell in the girls' bathroom - no water means no flushing of the toilets, and I'm guessing the water stopped working sometime last night. 12 hours ago, give or take. You do the math. So yeah, I e-mailed my professors today. "Sorry, I'm not going to class until I can at least brush my teeth." Hopefully, they're going to understand. If not, well, too fucking bad, I'm still not leaving my dorm. Ew. Ew, ew, ew. If I have to pee, I have to walk across the street to do it, but fuck that. I can hold it until they get it fixed (they estimated around 3:30 or 4:00).

Ah, the joys of being back in the dorm.

For the record?

Never, ever, ever leave food in your unplugged refridgerater for six weeks. Trust me. It'll end up smelling like rancid ass and you'll end up almost throwing up all over your dorm room. And then, even after the food is thrown out, you still have the smell and you have to clean it.. and by "clean", I mean open it, spray orange cleaner all over it, and close it again before you need to breathe again.

Cleaning the dorms. Ah, one of the finer things in life.

Well, it's almost time to go back. I'm going to the dorms to clean tomorrow, then moving my stuff back on Sunday. Cleaning wouldn't be necessary, except for we left some food there. In the refridgerator. For about a month and a half. Yeah, it wasn't a bright idea, but my room-mate skipped out early and I have a sucky memory.

Someone I know is, as usual, driving me up a wall. It seems like the only time I write in this is to complain. (And I'll get to the cost-of-textbooks rant in a minute here, because it's almost that time of the semester.) She says things like, "I'm going to stop using acronyms or mocking the 1337-speakers because people will think I'm not as smart as I know I am" and "Of the many places I fail to live up to my potential, my journal is the easiest one to fix and will affect how the most people view me." (That, by the way, was a direct quote.)

This is what I get for befriending emo kids.

Seriously, I hate people like this. Get over it. People really don't care what you write, and people can tell the difference between you, a person who uses netspeak as following a trend and is actually capable of writing correctly, and one of the people we mock by doing it. People are not as stupid as you think they are. She's been on this huge self-improvement kick anyway, and I really don't get it. That's what's wrong with this world, being so worried about self-improvement. Putting so much energy toward becoming someone you're not. What, because it's "better"? Who's to say the person you're going to be is any better than the person you are now? I mean, yeah, sure. If you're a smoker or if you're addicted to drugs or have an alcohol problem or some other addiction, go for it. Do the self-improvement thing. But losing 20 pounds? Stopping with the "OMG!" and "WTF?!"? How is that, really, honestly, truly going to make you any happier?

It won't. And stressing out about the littlest shit.. ugh. That's what makes you miserable, stressing about not being perfect. If you just relax, you'll find that you're much happier than the skinny, beautiful, eloquent people who torture themselves to turn out like that.

So I replied to her with a simple, yet effective quote: "Self improvement is masturbation." Ah, you've got to love Fight Club.

Anyhow, back to the school-related angst, because that is mostly what this blog is for. Books this semester are looking like $400, if I get into all the classes I want. I haven't even registered yet, and this is because they shut down registering until Sunday. So at promptly 2:00 PM, I'll sign on and see what I can get into. Hopefully there'll be something. If there's nothing left for my major, I have no idea what I'll do. Books are so expensive, and I've potentially got a Gilderoy Lockhart on my hands - a professor who assigns his or her own book. I had one last semester, too, but I switched out of his class. I'm really glad I did, taking that class with a different professor made me decide on Psychology as my major.

My uncle, by the way, is much better. They let him come home yesterday - he has to have triple bypass done in a week or so, but they let him home in the meantime. My cousin (his daughter) is staying home from work until the surgery to watch him and make sure he's okay. He was already over here visiting and talking to my grandmother again. Sometimes, people are incredible. The way they can just snap back from things like that, it's stunning to me.

I'm a member of the radio station on campus. I'm also the web director, which means that the general manager gets to e-mail me every week with, "I need you to update the site." and then I do it and no one thanks me, ever, even though I put in more time than anyone else. And that he gets to say "I'm your friend and I think you spend too much time making icons and reading fanfiction and not enough time doing the radio station website" when I fall behind on a few updates. During Finals Week, when I have a 25 page paper due and have been working on that, without sleeping, for a few days straight. Basically, he's an asshole. And he's not my friend, because honestly - friends talk to each other, see each other outside meetings, keep in touch other than the weekly "I need you to update the site" e-mails.

I'm going to quit after this semester. I've already decided, it's just a matter of telling the GM. A lot of people like to listen to my shows, I do them with my room-mate, but.. I just don't care about it anymore. And next semester, Fall. It's going to be different. I'll have a single room, I'll be able to really concentrate on my work and bringing my grades up and studying, which is what I want to be doing.

This was a really long entry. All things considered, it didn't take too much time to type. I guess I have a lot of things on my mind.

Meh.

Well, it's almost time to go back to campus. Finally. I swear to god, time crawls when you're out of school. I'm not working or anything, so I'm not really doing much of anything. Lazy, I know. Eh, what can you do? Job market sucks.

So, on Saturday my room-mate and I are going to go clean our room up. We left some things in the fridge and I'm sure they're disgusting by now, so.. yeah. We're going to go wage a nuclear war on the dorm room, and move in on Sunday. Next Wednesday (the 26th) is my birthday. I don't really know what I want to do for it. Part of me doesn't really want to do anything. I know I've got to spend my birthday money on credit card bills. How much does that suck? Yeah, I have some spending issues. Like $3,000, minus school loans. Those are almost another $10,000. I keep adding them up in my head and it makes me depressed. $13 grand. Jesus. I mean, it could be worse. But.. I don't know. I'm such a fucking failure sometimes.

I hate my friends.

All of them.

They don't like me, either. They like me when I do things, like write fanfiction or make graphics, or do the website for them. But when I'm just being myself.. they don't.

My uncle had a heart attack. He's in the hospital, intensive care. I tell my friends and they can't even fake sympathy.

Fuck them.

Grades Finally Came In

So I finally got my grades for the semester. The damage isn't nearly as bad as I feared. I even made it out of my worst class with a C. I made an A in the class for my major - Psychology - and a C+ in a writing course. I got an Incomplete in a literature course, which will probably turn into an A or a B once I get this essay written.

My GPA for all courses is 2.4ish, my GPA for classes for my major is 4.0. (I've only taken two Psych courses, though.) I'm doing good, better than I'd feared. I thought I was going to fail a few classes and have to worry about academic probation and crap, but this is good. Very good.

My Room-Mate is Driving me Insane.

So I'm not even in school and she's driving me up a wall. Whenever I read her blog, she's got something new to bitch and whine about. I just want to slap her in the face. Get over it, your problems aren't that huge. Stop with the pretentious poetic bullshit. Your spirit isn't caged, your energy isn't being sapped by evil tree demons, your mind isn't trapped. You're just being annoying. I can't stand people who feel the need to turn even the most mundane things into poetry. Why can't you just say "I feel depressed" or "I feel lonely" and leave it at that? Why does it always have to be something flowery and wordy? Someone read too much Dickens as a child.

I hate to be bitchy, and this girl's my best friend. But I'm going to kill her if she posts one more time about her soul or spirit or energy or whatever the fuck she's talking about. GET OVER IT. Life sucks sometimes, and it's boring, and yeah, sometimes you feel depressed and bad things happen. Yeah, your family's having a hard time. Guess what? So's mine. We went through the same thing a few months ago, losing someone. I didn't wax all poetic. You know what I did? I learned to deal. Stuff happens, and if you get stuck on it, you're going to waste your life with poetry.

Another thing that bothers me is when people let the dead control their life. My 'aunt' is the perfect example. (She's not really my aunt, she just used to date my uncle. They were never married, but they dated for years.) Lady, my uncle has been dead for TEN YEARS. And he's all she talks about. Yeah, I get it, you have to mourn. But ten years later? Live your life, let it go. He wouldn't have wanted you to cry about him all day every day anyway. Go get some help.

Another of my friends is like that, with her old friend. He killed himself, and she talks about him all the time, like he's still here. I think people need to get help. I try to be understanding, but you know what? I've lost people, too. And you just have to deal with it. Mourn, be sad, and remember them, but go on with your life. Otherwise you're going to be stuck living in the past forever.

Wow, I have no idea where this entry went. Anyway, it's 7:30. My sleep schedule's been messed up for a few days now and it's New Years' Eve. I'm going to the movies tonight and probably just coming back here. I'm such a loser. I can't help it - most of my friends just piss me off anyway.