allichaton

Meow. Meow meow meow meow. I am now very, very upset with Shubhra.

For those of you who haven't heard me gritching in chat over the past few days--Shubhra and I have been having silent window wars. For some godsforsaken reason, she wants the window open 24/7. (This is not an exaggeration. She put a sign up next to her side that says "Please leave window open AT ALL TIMES.") I was fine with that when it was hot here, but the weather's decided that it's winter now, and it's getting freezing. And still she wants the window open constantly. Even if she's not in the bloody room, and I'm wearing every sweater I've got and huddled in my quilt and am still shivering. Yep, even then.

The night before last, she kept her window open when she went to bed. The room was freezing all night, and made it damned impossible for me to sleep. Last night when I went to bed, she wasn't in the room, so I wrote her a note and taped it on the window-opening mechanism. "Shubhra-- Please leave the window closed at night. It is very cold outside, and makes the room freezing, which makes it impossible for me to sleep." I wake up, the window's cracked a bit, but it's fine, because the room's warm and I didn't have any trouble sleeping at all.

Shubhra gets up, gets ready for class, and just before she leaves, she tells me, "Since there are two windows and two of us, I think it's fair that the right one is yours and the left one is mine, and if it's stuffy in here I should be able to have the window open." I told her, "Yeah, fine, if you're in here, but if you're not in here and I'm freezing my ass off, that's not okay, and I'm going to close the window." She said, "Yeah, but I mean at night, when we're sleeping. I think it's fair that I can have the window open if I want it."

Um...okay, maybe it's just me, but I see a huge, gaping flaw in her logic. There are two windows, sure, but it's ONE BLOODY ROOM!

And WHY is it okay for me to be freezing, but not for her to be hot? I'm trying to find a compromise that works okay for both of us, but all she cares about is keeping the damned window open. MROWR!

God fucking dammit. I am so goddamned fucking pissed I don't even know how to express it. It's just fucking everything It's all the people outside and in the hall who apparently think that "quiet hours" mean "Yell as loud as you BLOODY FUCKING CAN". It's the fact that I've laid in bed for the past forty-fucking-five minutes trying to get to bed, and having no damned luck of it. For a girl who falls asleep at the drop of a hat, that's a goddamned long time. And it's dirty laundry that I'm not going to air because I'm being stupid and selfish and irrational and my mind my be saying, "Fuck all that, you deserve to rant", but I'm not quite infuriated enough to have lost the last ounce of control. I was in a bad mood earlier and I didn't know why, I'm in a worse mood now and I DO know why, but I can't fucking rant about it because I don't want to be hurtful or make people feel guilty or act like my needs are more important than someone else's. But dammit, it's goddamned fucking frustrating and I don't have any fucking outlet for any of it. I can't go yell at the assholes who don't have to get up in the morning and don't care if anyone else does, I can't yell at whatever the fuck it is that's keeping me from being able to fall back asleep, I can't yell and my goddamn bad mood, and I don't want to yell about the dirty laundry. No, that's not correct. I do want to yell about it. I want to go stark raving mad about it, foaming at the mouth, ranting and raving and screaming like a fucking banshee. But I'm not going to, and that's hard, and that only makes the seething bad mood worse.

And to top the whole damned thing off, I'm having waking-nightmares about the damned movie, The Ring. Watched it several weeks ago, didn't bother me until tonight, but suddenly I was laying in bed paralyzed by fear while images of the dead bodies flashing through my mind. (If you've seen the movie, you'll understand why those images are so bone-chillingly terrifying. If you haven't...you'll have to either watch the movie or do an image search on Google. I can't--I'd have to look at the pictures to see if they're the right ones, and the memory of them is horrible enough. I don't need to be reminded about all the horrible details that I missed because I had my face buried in my quilt and only caught a flashing glimpse of it.

I'm tired, I'm pissed, I'm depressed, I'm guilty, and I'm scaring myself to bloody death. I just want to fucking cry, but I can't even do that, because I always feel worse after I cry, and if I do cry, dammit, I want someone on the phone to comfort me. But that goes back to the dirty laundry, and not acting like my needs are more important than someone else's.

MROWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

We watched Titanic last night--well, the girls did, at least. *sniffs* Good movie. Made even better by the running comedic commentary by Whitney. Including this joke that I found rather hilarious:

Q: What do you get when you cross the Atlantic with the Titanic?
A: About half way.

Conversation between me and Dylan:

[we're at Cha for Tea drinking tea, and Dylan and Erin are playing chess. The song with the lyrics "Girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money" is playing, and Alea is singing along with it.]

Dylan (laughs): You know, I find her singing this so ironic because it's so true.
Me: So you think I'm going out with my boyfriend because of the money in his bank account?
Dylan (considers): I don't really consider you to be a girl.
Me (rofl): What am I, androgynous?
[Dylan ponders this for a moment, then nods.]
Dylan: Yep. That's about right.

Mrowwwrrrrr. I am pissed. Snarling, hissing, foaming-at-the-mouth furious.

A little backstory. For those of you who have checked out my class schedule below, you may have noticed that on Tuesdays, I have class from 9:30 - 2:00, except for one 30-minutes break at 10:30. That is when I eat my first meal of the day, and because the commons is always switching between breakfast and lunch at that time, the only thing available to eat is cereal. That's my breakfast, and my lunch, and that's how it was today.

Shadowfax typically heads down to Pippin at 5:30. I like to go with my friends. Eating alone sucks. At 4:30 today, Dylan came to me and mentioned that he was going to be heading down to Pippin at 6:00, and insinuated that he'd like me to wait for him. I said sure, no problem. I feel sorry for the guy; just about everyone hates his guts. And I enjoy his company, when he's not being an ass.

Around 5:00, I started getting really hungry, because I ate so early. Everyone left for dinner at 5:30. In spite of the fact that I was hungry, I stuck around, so that I could head down with Dylan. By 6:00, I was starving. I headed over to Dylan's suite to grab him for dinner. His door is closed. I knock on it. No answer. His roommate comes out of a nearby room, so I ask him if Dylan's in his room. He says no, he headed out somewhere. I ask if he went to dinner. He's not sure. I say okay, thanks, and head down to Pippin.

The gang is still there. I grab my food and eat with them, and because I eat faster than most of them, I'm finished by the time they're ready to leave. We leave, I come back to my room. at 6:50, I hear Dylan talking to someone at the end of the suite. I catch him as he walks by my door, and ask him, "What happened to 6:00?" He gets deffensive, and then offensive. He was down in the study room, what's the matter? I tell him I waited for him. He says, essentially, "So what?"

I am fucking furious. I don't think Dylan realizes just how widely he is despised. None of the girls in my suite can stand him. Amy, from the third floor, enjoys being mean to him and teasing him. Karen and Erin loathe him so much that when he enters the suite, they hide in their room and lock the door. He has managed to piss off just about damn near everyone in this hall. I don't think he realizes that he has just given the only person in probably the hall, and definitely the suite, who gives a damn about him the overwhelming urge to say, "Fuck you" and spit in his face the next time she sees him.

I. Am. So. Goddamn. Fucking. Pissed.

Just got back from dinner, although the last 45 minutes or so was just spent hanging out with the group and chatting. These guys are nuts, and I love them. :D But the conversation that completely cracked me up was the one between Karen, Dylan, and I. Our suite has decided its theme is "Hot guys on the door" (it's an all girls suite...I was not involved in the decision... :P). I was telling Karen about discovering the huge movie posters that were put up on the walls recently (Legolas...Tom Cruise... Johnny Depp... *droool*), and that I had just stood there staring at them drooling.

Dylan: You need to get yourself someone "real".
Me: I *have* someone real.
Karen: That's right, she does.
Dylan: You *have* someone? Don't you know that slavery is illegal? It was abolished after the Civil War.
Me: No it wasn't, hon, it's called marriage.
Dylan: You're married to him??
Me: Er...no--
Dylan: Oh, so you've just got him in slavery until you marry him, I gotcha.
Karen: Yeah, she's renting him.
Dylan: No, lease.

*snicker, chuckle, laugh, guffaw*

Somehow, our fridge got unplugged. I don't know when, or how, or for how long, but it's not cold at all in there anymore. The milk still feels *slightly* cool to the touch, and still has condesation on its sides, so it probably happened sometime last night, or early, early this morning.

*sigh* I'm pretty sure neither the milk or the yogurt are going to be good anymore. :( Don't know much about yogurt going bad, though--if the containers are still closed and sealed, will they still go bad in room temp for a few hours?

Maaaan. That sucks. :(:(:(

Someone in chat today was showing off pictures of his bedroom, so I got inspired to dig up my webcam and take some pics of my dorm room. :) Figured y'all might like to see where I'm spending the year. ;)

( View pictures )