(no subject)
So a lot has happened since last I posted.
I finished Spring term with a C in Archaeology, a B in Lab, an A in Language and Culture, a C in German, and an A in Band. Meh, I deserved it. But apparently I didn't learn my lesson, because the two classes I took for summer...ech.
Summer break was mostly uneventful, but I got a Laura for a week and that was fun. We went to Disney, and I drove places, and we did a photoshoot and good times occured.
But for summer C (the second half of the summer term) I took "The Maya Calendar and the 2012 Phenomenon" and "Creative Writing: Fiction Technique." The Maya Calendar class was actually for a 4000-level credit needed to get my Anthro degree, and it was pretty interesting. But, it was also extremely difficult, four days a week, and like I said, I didn't learn my lesson from spring term and ended up getting a D+ (68.8%) in the class. What's annoying is that, had I turned in a term paper on time, I would have gotten a 71% in the class and a C-. While that's still not great, anything lower than a C- doesn't count toward any credit you might need, so I need to take another 4000-level Anthro class in spring semester in order to graduate. That means 15 credits in spring instead of twelve. Still, the class was interesting enough that I kept the textbooks and plan on reading up a bit on some of them when I get bored. The Creative Writing class was great, and I got a B in it, and this guy totally does not hand out grades. It was insanely informative, and I plan on buying the textbook once I have the money (I had rented it, but it was orgasmically useful). My professor was a published author, and Mario Puzo's editor actually went up to him to ask if he could continue the Godfather saga where Puzo left off. I mean...that's cool. What made me love this class was it wasn't a bullshit Creative Writing class where if you do what is asked and can write correct English you get an A. This guy actually made a conscious effort on teaching us how to write. I had to read close to 100 pages a night and write about 1,000 words, either in essays or scenes, a night. This class was half the reason I didn't spend as much time on the Maya class as I could have.
So, in June, for this summer semester, I moved into my first ever apartment. It's a one-bed-one-bath deal that I'm sharing with Jules, and because we're splitting it, it's way cheaper than a dorm, and I get a living room and kitchen along with it. Our kitchen is tiny, with a Liliputian stove and oven, the bathroom is adequate, and the bedroom is just the right size. I hang out on the insanely fugly couch, mostly, and my shit has slowly taken over the coffee table. And Jules makes things like delicious home-made hummus, and does the dishes before I think to get to them. All over, it's a pretty good deal. Also, the entire complex ships Me/Jules. It's really amusing.
I am excited for this semester, though I know I'll eat my words in two weeks. But for the most part I really like what I'm learning. I'm taking Evolution of Human Sexuality, Human Evolution, History of Anthropology (blargh, but it's required), Elementary Sanskrit, Short Story: Science Fiction and Fantasy (!!!!!), and private piano lessons with a grad student. It is a fuckton of reading, but I really am excited. Unfortunately, History of Anthro looks to be insanely work-heavy, and for a class I am not remotely interested in, that doesn't bode well. I just have to remember that going to class is actually important.
I need help from the Internetz. I know it's long, but I'd really like advice about what the fuck to do with the following situation, if you care to read this giant block of text:
Last Monday, Luke moved in five doors down from me. There has been issue after issue with him, and all joking insults to his manhood aside, he has been the bitchiest drama queen I have ever met, and I used to work with theater kids. Oh, and apparently most of it is my fault. I'm going to copypasta a mass text he sent last night to Jules, Anna and me:
"I'm getting tired of you guys always putting me down. I'm your friend and I value what we have, but I've put up with this shit for a year now. Putting insults like calling me princess or general attacks on my manhood aside, since I've come back you've given me no positive reason to be around you other than the harsh loneliness of apartment life. Fuck that. I don't want to lose my friends, but I know better than to stay in an abusive relationship. So stop taking me for granted and act like the fun friends I remember! I'm a man who actually is in tune with his emotions and is confident enough to stand up for himself. If you can't respect me and treat me nice then why should you expect my respect? I sincerely hope you take this seriously. Don't alienate someone who cares enough to spill his emotions instead of bottling them. :( -Luke J."
I just...ugh.
Firstly, "the harsh loneliness of apartment life?" Fuck that shit. He requested a single for a dorm room and didn't get one, so he decided to pay even more money, and get an apartment so he wouldn't have to deal with a roommate. So I don't know why all of a sudden not having a roommate is a problem, when he made such a big deal about not wanting one. He constantly complains that he's bored, and expects us to want to hang out every second of the day, and it's rather tiring. Personally, I value having time to myself. But looking back, this has always been an issue with him. As soon as there is the slightest drop in activity, he flops around all "I'm boooored!" He even did it at my eighteenth birthday party when we had just gotten home from a restaurant. It's like he has no concept of how to entertain himself (masturbation jokes aside). If I was ever bored over the summer and Jules and Anna couldn't do anything, what did I do? I read, went on my computer, or, get this, put on shoes and went outside and found something to do. And he has the advantage of an actual car that can take him wherever he wants. I had to walk everywhere or rely on the very unreliable bus system. So there's that.
Also, I think he lets the "insults" get to him a little more than they should. It doesn't take a genius to know when someone is kidding. And when it comes to me, and Jules even moreso, we never actually mean that shit. Although Princess is becoming way too accurate a nickname for him lately.
And you know what? Most of the time, if he has a positive attitude, so do the rest of us. But lately that has been close to never. Even if he's seemingly in a good mood, he always has to slip in some sort of bitchy little comment to let us know that he is displeased. And okay, part of this is my fault, because when he is in a good mood, he gets cheesy and sentimental (i.e., "I'm glad we're doing this all together [because we're friends~!]" or "This is nice."). He can't just enjoy the moment, he has to comment on it. And in general, he just wears everything on his sleve. To some people, this is not a problem, but when people get all sentimental and discuss feelings with me, I get massively uncomfortable, and my brain goes MAKE IT STOOOOP, and so I end up spouting something snarky or generally mood-killing because, for me, the mood has been killed. And he sees that as a problem, which is legitimate I guess, but I have told him multiple times that when he gets like that it makes me uncomfortable and to stop, but he's always surprised that's how I react.
Also, apparently he doesn't understand that there is a middle ground between spilling emotions of bottling them. I get that there are some things in life you need someone else's support for. And there is some family shit he's going through, but it should not permeate every aspect of his personality like it is. But as for "bottling things up," I think part of the reason why this whole spilling thing makes me so squirmy is because for most of my teenaged years, I didn't talk to anyone about anything. I did not confide in anyone, and sometimes it was a bad thing, but I got over it. The first person I ever sat down and openly talked about ~feelings~ with was Laura, and that hasn't changed (although when it first started, because of it I got kind of unnecessarily clingy, but I've gotten better). What I'm saying is, is not everyone should be your receptical. I don't think it's healthy, personally. You need to talk it out with someone, talk to someone receptive. I can be receptive, I really can, for people I care about, but his attitude and the simple way he talks about things (I don't know if it makes sense, but he always seems like he's talking from a script. Like, he says things because he thinks he's supposed to say them. Not that it's phony, but...guh, it's hard to explain) has really turned me off to it.
Which brings me to the next thing. If I'm developing a negative relationship with a friend, or if someone keeps doing shit to piss me off, I pull away. I don't make a big, unnecessary fuss, I just pull away. Maybe the relationship improves, and that's good, or maybe it doesn't and I continue pulling away. It is so much easier and frought with a lot less drama, and frankly, I haven't had to do it in years. What I'm wondering, is if we are supposedly so negative and and not giving him cause to be friends, why doesn't he...I don't know...find new people, like every other college student ever? There are tons of freshmen on campus who don't know anyone, and within weeks, guess what? You find people. I've thought about this before, with Cassie and Anna. Cassie is very close to Anna, and not the most sociable creature, and she is also very clingy, but also very critical. Right and left, Cassie finds something wrong that Anna's doing, whether it's hanging out with people besides her or...just anything. Nothing she ever does is right. And I wonder, if nothing Anna ever does is right, why does Cassie insist on clinging to her like she does? This was last year, and now I'm wondering about that with Luke and myself.
Jules asked me a bit ago how we even became friends in the first place, and truthfully, I had forgotten until now. Junior year of high school, we were in the same Math and English classes together, so we went the same route walking Math to English. Everyone talked to everyone else in Math, because we were all new and didn't know anyone. I remember thinking he was vaguely annoying and, one day, I purposefully left class as quickly as possible to avoid having to talk to him on the way to English, and he ran up to meet me anyway (I found out later he had a crush on me back then, but that is neither here nor there). Eventually he became friends with Rachael, Brooke and Isaiah, with whom I sat at lunch, and from there we became friends. Anyway, this entire story was to illustrate the point that, apparently, way back three years ago...I wasn't keen on being his friend in the first place.
God. Am I a horrible person for thinking he just needs to grow a tougher skin and just...grow up? I know I'm a horrible person for some of those other things, but...
There's more I need to say, oh God is there more, but I just can't right now.
So, Internet, I beg your help. What the fuck do I do?
In other news, my family had to put my cat down last night. Apparently, she had hid from us that she was sick for a long time. Today, I got an e-mail from my mom, checking to see if it was okay that they took her home and buried her under the palm trees out back near the canal instead of them creamating her and having her taken away. I know she deserves more than a line on LJ and a Facebook status, and I need to write out something, published or not, because this is just ECR all over the place, but like Tinkerbell I only have so much room for all of this in my little self, and I can't do it right now. Between being unfathomably annoyed and pissed off at someone who is basically impossible to avoid, the sense impending doom with my upcoming academic load, the fact that I have less than twenty dollars to my name and little luck with finding a job, I just can't right now.
Though I will say this--grief for a pet is much more complicated than you'd think. No matter how you react, telling someone a pet died always seems to have an air of triviality to it. No matter how long you've lived with this pet, it's not the same to people as saying your sibling has died. Sometimes it is the same thing. Not in my case, but when I considered telling someone to give me a break because my cat just died and I'm sad, I knew how it would sound.
I didn't say anything.
I finished Spring term with a C in Archaeology, a B in Lab, an A in Language and Culture, a C in German, and an A in Band. Meh, I deserved it. But apparently I didn't learn my lesson, because the two classes I took for summer...ech.
Summer break was mostly uneventful, but I got a Laura for a week and that was fun. We went to Disney, and I drove places, and we did a photoshoot and good times occured.
But for summer C (the second half of the summer term) I took "The Maya Calendar and the 2012 Phenomenon" and "Creative Writing: Fiction Technique." The Maya Calendar class was actually for a 4000-level credit needed to get my Anthro degree, and it was pretty interesting. But, it was also extremely difficult, four days a week, and like I said, I didn't learn my lesson from spring term and ended up getting a D+ (68.8%) in the class. What's annoying is that, had I turned in a term paper on time, I would have gotten a 71% in the class and a C-. While that's still not great, anything lower than a C- doesn't count toward any credit you might need, so I need to take another 4000-level Anthro class in spring semester in order to graduate. That means 15 credits in spring instead of twelve. Still, the class was interesting enough that I kept the textbooks and plan on reading up a bit on some of them when I get bored. The Creative Writing class was great, and I got a B in it, and this guy totally does not hand out grades. It was insanely informative, and I plan on buying the textbook once I have the money (I had rented it, but it was orgasmically useful). My professor was a published author, and Mario Puzo's editor actually went up to him to ask if he could continue the Godfather saga where Puzo left off. I mean...that's cool. What made me love this class was it wasn't a bullshit Creative Writing class where if you do what is asked and can write correct English you get an A. This guy actually made a conscious effort on teaching us how to write. I had to read close to 100 pages a night and write about 1,000 words, either in essays or scenes, a night. This class was half the reason I didn't spend as much time on the Maya class as I could have.
So, in June, for this summer semester, I moved into my first ever apartment. It's a one-bed-one-bath deal that I'm sharing with Jules, and because we're splitting it, it's way cheaper than a dorm, and I get a living room and kitchen along with it. Our kitchen is tiny, with a Liliputian stove and oven, the bathroom is adequate, and the bedroom is just the right size. I hang out on the insanely fugly couch, mostly, and my shit has slowly taken over the coffee table. And Jules makes things like delicious home-made hummus, and does the dishes before I think to get to them. All over, it's a pretty good deal. Also, the entire complex ships Me/Jules. It's really amusing.
I am excited for this semester, though I know I'll eat my words in two weeks. But for the most part I really like what I'm learning. I'm taking Evolution of Human Sexuality, Human Evolution, History of Anthropology (blargh, but it's required), Elementary Sanskrit, Short Story: Science Fiction and Fantasy (!!!!!), and private piano lessons with a grad student. It is a fuckton of reading, but I really am excited. Unfortunately, History of Anthro looks to be insanely work-heavy, and for a class I am not remotely interested in, that doesn't bode well. I just have to remember that going to class is actually important.
I need help from the Internetz. I know it's long, but I'd really like advice about what the fuck to do with the following situation, if you care to read this giant block of text:
Last Monday, Luke moved in five doors down from me. There has been issue after issue with him, and all joking insults to his manhood aside, he has been the bitchiest drama queen I have ever met, and I used to work with theater kids. Oh, and apparently most of it is my fault. I'm going to copypasta a mass text he sent last night to Jules, Anna and me:
"I'm getting tired of you guys always putting me down. I'm your friend and I value what we have, but I've put up with this shit for a year now. Putting insults like calling me princess or general attacks on my manhood aside, since I've come back you've given me no positive reason to be around you other than the harsh loneliness of apartment life. Fuck that. I don't want to lose my friends, but I know better than to stay in an abusive relationship. So stop taking me for granted and act like the fun friends I remember! I'm a man who actually is in tune with his emotions and is confident enough to stand up for himself. If you can't respect me and treat me nice then why should you expect my respect? I sincerely hope you take this seriously. Don't alienate someone who cares enough to spill his emotions instead of bottling them. :( -Luke J."
I just...ugh.
Firstly, "the harsh loneliness of apartment life?" Fuck that shit. He requested a single for a dorm room and didn't get one, so he decided to pay even more money, and get an apartment so he wouldn't have to deal with a roommate. So I don't know why all of a sudden not having a roommate is a problem, when he made such a big deal about not wanting one. He constantly complains that he's bored, and expects us to want to hang out every second of the day, and it's rather tiring. Personally, I value having time to myself. But looking back, this has always been an issue with him. As soon as there is the slightest drop in activity, he flops around all "I'm boooored!" He even did it at my eighteenth birthday party when we had just gotten home from a restaurant. It's like he has no concept of how to entertain himself (masturbation jokes aside). If I was ever bored over the summer and Jules and Anna couldn't do anything, what did I do? I read, went on my computer, or, get this, put on shoes and went outside and found something to do. And he has the advantage of an actual car that can take him wherever he wants. I had to walk everywhere or rely on the very unreliable bus system. So there's that.
Also, I think he lets the "insults" get to him a little more than they should. It doesn't take a genius to know when someone is kidding. And when it comes to me, and Jules even moreso, we never actually mean that shit. Although Princess is becoming way too accurate a nickname for him lately.
And you know what? Most of the time, if he has a positive attitude, so do the rest of us. But lately that has been close to never. Even if he's seemingly in a good mood, he always has to slip in some sort of bitchy little comment to let us know that he is displeased. And okay, part of this is my fault, because when he is in a good mood, he gets cheesy and sentimental (i.e., "I'm glad we're doing this all together [because we're friends~!]" or "This is nice."). He can't just enjoy the moment, he has to comment on it. And in general, he just wears everything on his sleve. To some people, this is not a problem, but when people get all sentimental and discuss feelings with me, I get massively uncomfortable, and my brain goes MAKE IT STOOOOP, and so I end up spouting something snarky or generally mood-killing because, for me, the mood has been killed. And he sees that as a problem, which is legitimate I guess, but I have told him multiple times that when he gets like that it makes me uncomfortable and to stop, but he's always surprised that's how I react.
Also, apparently he doesn't understand that there is a middle ground between spilling emotions of bottling them. I get that there are some things in life you need someone else's support for. And there is some family shit he's going through, but it should not permeate every aspect of his personality like it is. But as for "bottling things up," I think part of the reason why this whole spilling thing makes me so squirmy is because for most of my teenaged years, I didn't talk to anyone about anything. I did not confide in anyone, and sometimes it was a bad thing, but I got over it. The first person I ever sat down and openly talked about ~feelings~ with was Laura, and that hasn't changed (although when it first started, because of it I got kind of unnecessarily clingy, but I've gotten better). What I'm saying is, is not everyone should be your receptical. I don't think it's healthy, personally. You need to talk it out with someone, talk to someone receptive. I can be receptive, I really can, for people I care about, but his attitude and the simple way he talks about things (I don't know if it makes sense, but he always seems like he's talking from a script. Like, he says things because he thinks he's supposed to say them. Not that it's phony, but...guh, it's hard to explain) has really turned me off to it.
Which brings me to the next thing. If I'm developing a negative relationship with a friend, or if someone keeps doing shit to piss me off, I pull away. I don't make a big, unnecessary fuss, I just pull away. Maybe the relationship improves, and that's good, or maybe it doesn't and I continue pulling away. It is so much easier and frought with a lot less drama, and frankly, I haven't had to do it in years. What I'm wondering, is if we are supposedly so negative and and not giving him cause to be friends, why doesn't he...I don't know...find new people, like every other college student ever? There are tons of freshmen on campus who don't know anyone, and within weeks, guess what? You find people. I've thought about this before, with Cassie and Anna. Cassie is very close to Anna, and not the most sociable creature, and she is also very clingy, but also very critical. Right and left, Cassie finds something wrong that Anna's doing, whether it's hanging out with people besides her or...just anything. Nothing she ever does is right. And I wonder, if nothing Anna ever does is right, why does Cassie insist on clinging to her like she does? This was last year, and now I'm wondering about that with Luke and myself.
Jules asked me a bit ago how we even became friends in the first place, and truthfully, I had forgotten until now. Junior year of high school, we were in the same Math and English classes together, so we went the same route walking Math to English. Everyone talked to everyone else in Math, because we were all new and didn't know anyone. I remember thinking he was vaguely annoying and, one day, I purposefully left class as quickly as possible to avoid having to talk to him on the way to English, and he ran up to meet me anyway (I found out later he had a crush on me back then, but that is neither here nor there). Eventually he became friends with Rachael, Brooke and Isaiah, with whom I sat at lunch, and from there we became friends. Anyway, this entire story was to illustrate the point that, apparently, way back three years ago...I wasn't keen on being his friend in the first place.
God. Am I a horrible person for thinking he just needs to grow a tougher skin and just...grow up? I know I'm a horrible person for some of those other things, but...
There's more I need to say, oh God is there more, but I just can't right now.
So, Internet, I beg your help. What the fuck do I do?
In other news, my family had to put my cat down last night. Apparently, she had hid from us that she was sick for a long time. Today, I got an e-mail from my mom, checking to see if it was okay that they took her home and buried her under the palm trees out back near the canal instead of them creamating her and having her taken away. I know she deserves more than a line on LJ and a Facebook status, and I need to write out something, published or not, because this is just ECR all over the place, but like Tinkerbell I only have so much room for all of this in my little self, and I can't do it right now. Between being unfathomably annoyed and pissed off at someone who is basically impossible to avoid, the sense impending doom with my upcoming academic load, the fact that I have less than twenty dollars to my name and little luck with finding a job, I just can't right now.
Though I will say this--grief for a pet is much more complicated than you'd think. No matter how you react, telling someone a pet died always seems to have an air of triviality to it. No matter how long you've lived with this pet, it's not the same to people as saying your sibling has died. Sometimes it is the same thing. Not in my case, but when I considered telling someone to give me a break because my cat just died and I'm sad, I knew how it would sound.
I didn't say anything.