(no subject)
It hasn't been the best week. Being away from home is hard enough, but I've had some bad luck on top of it. On Monday a Wells Fargo ATM ate my debit card, which was the only source of money I had. And Wells Fargo doesn't retrieve ATM cards from other banks (mine was from Black Hills FCU); they destroy them, muahahahahaha! I know which bank I'm never opening an account at.
Okay, I did have about five or six bucks. I buy a pack of cigarettes, because while I've been trying to cut down and not become a smoker-smoker, it's been stressful, and people are right when they say they take the edge out. I smoked four cigarettes from that pack, and then I lost it. Boo. Thankfully I was able to scrounge up enough change in the pockets of the clothes I packed to buy another. I've been watching it like a hawk.
I'm eternally thankful that my cousin Berit is a very generous person who has loaned me thirty bucks until my new debit card arrives. She also lives down the hall from me as she's working on her Master's. That money went to buying an ethernet cable and some various other necessities. And my mom's also a very generous person, for many reasons, of course. She saved the day this week by overnighting me her credit card so I could buy books. Which I would have been able to do myself if Wells Fargo wasn't fucking stupid.
The icing on the cake was going to the Commons to eat dinner last night. You know, now that I think about it, it wasn't that bad, it just disappoints me a bit. Okay, I walk into the cafeteria to eat dinner, and there's this group of black guys (and I wouldn't mention that they were black, but it comes into play later in the story) who are being loud and shit. When I go past them, they're hollering, "Hey, you're hot! You're fuckin' HOT!" Seeing as how I've had very poor sleep the last few days, I haven't bothered with makeup, and my hair has yet to reconcile itself with Vermillion's humidity, I assume the person they're hollering at is not me. Besides, there's plenty of 18-year-old athletic-type girls walking around in tank tops and short-shorts. While it's disrespectful to be yelling at women like that, I'm not about to go correct those guys. And hey, some girls get off on that kind of attention. I'm not one of them.
I eat my over-priced food and go to leave. On my way out, I make eye contact with one of the guys. He looks at me and says, "Hey, you know what? You're a fucking stuck-up white bitch! Fucking ignoring us!"
There were plenty of things I wanted to say, but I felt flustered, and decided my best bet was to keep ignoring them. It bothers me that sometimes I have plenty of balls, and sometimes I can't seem to rouse a single pube on one of those balls. What I wanted to say was something along the lines of, "Hey, I didn't know you were talking to me. While positive comments on my appearance don't go unappreciated, there is much better way of voicing them than being loud and obnoxious and rude. Oh, yeah, you're racist too. You're really not helping my opinion of the male sex, either." P.S. --- Sorry, my male friends who read this. I think you're all great guys, but I do have a hard time trusting men. :P
So, I know most people who read this know me in real life, but for those who don't, in person, I'm a little aloof. Combine that with being shy and a bit naive (naive as in believing it's not that hard for people to act in a civil and decent manner), and it's a social disaster at times. Really, I should have just said, "I didn't hear you," because that would have at least snuffed the stuck-up bitch part. I can't change the white, though, or at least appearing to be white, even though my dad's of Mongolian/Native American/Hispanic descent.
There's not much I can do, other than attribute their behavior to being young. And maybe they're not used to girls not responding to those kind of comments. It could very well be a new experience for them. School is full of them.
I miss Neil all the time. Sometimes I just miss having my big, strong boyfriend beside me. :P
Okay, I did have about five or six bucks. I buy a pack of cigarettes, because while I've been trying to cut down and not become a smoker-smoker, it's been stressful, and people are right when they say they take the edge out. I smoked four cigarettes from that pack, and then I lost it. Boo. Thankfully I was able to scrounge up enough change in the pockets of the clothes I packed to buy another. I've been watching it like a hawk.
I'm eternally thankful that my cousin Berit is a very generous person who has loaned me thirty bucks until my new debit card arrives. She also lives down the hall from me as she's working on her Master's. That money went to buying an ethernet cable and some various other necessities. And my mom's also a very generous person, for many reasons, of course. She saved the day this week by overnighting me her credit card so I could buy books. Which I would have been able to do myself if Wells Fargo wasn't fucking stupid.
The icing on the cake was going to the Commons to eat dinner last night. You know, now that I think about it, it wasn't that bad, it just disappoints me a bit. Okay, I walk into the cafeteria to eat dinner, and there's this group of black guys (and I wouldn't mention that they were black, but it comes into play later in the story) who are being loud and shit. When I go past them, they're hollering, "Hey, you're hot! You're fuckin' HOT!" Seeing as how I've had very poor sleep the last few days, I haven't bothered with makeup, and my hair has yet to reconcile itself with Vermillion's humidity, I assume the person they're hollering at is not me. Besides, there's plenty of 18-year-old athletic-type girls walking around in tank tops and short-shorts. While it's disrespectful to be yelling at women like that, I'm not about to go correct those guys. And hey, some girls get off on that kind of attention. I'm not one of them.
I eat my over-priced food and go to leave. On my way out, I make eye contact with one of the guys. He looks at me and says, "Hey, you know what? You're a fucking stuck-up white bitch! Fucking ignoring us!"
There were plenty of things I wanted to say, but I felt flustered, and decided my best bet was to keep ignoring them. It bothers me that sometimes I have plenty of balls, and sometimes I can't seem to rouse a single pube on one of those balls. What I wanted to say was something along the lines of, "Hey, I didn't know you were talking to me. While positive comments on my appearance don't go unappreciated, there is much better way of voicing them than being loud and obnoxious and rude. Oh, yeah, you're racist too. You're really not helping my opinion of the male sex, either." P.S. --- Sorry, my male friends who read this. I think you're all great guys, but I do have a hard time trusting men. :P
So, I know most people who read this know me in real life, but for those who don't, in person, I'm a little aloof. Combine that with being shy and a bit naive (naive as in believing it's not that hard for people to act in a civil and decent manner), and it's a social disaster at times. Really, I should have just said, "I didn't hear you," because that would have at least snuffed the stuck-up bitch part. I can't change the white, though, or at least appearing to be white, even though my dad's of Mongolian/Native American/Hispanic descent.
There's not much I can do, other than attribute their behavior to being young. And maybe they're not used to girls not responding to those kind of comments. It could very well be a new experience for them. School is full of them.
I miss Neil all the time. Sometimes I just miss having my big, strong boyfriend beside me. :P