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SOMEONE CALL THE WAHMBULANCE
Aug. 27th, 2010 08:02 amI really don't have anything to talk about. Two days until the semester starts up again - I'll have a few days before it gets busy, and possibly as much as a month before I can feel my soul crushing into tiny bits, but basically UNIVERSITY IS HARD. It makes me feel stupid. Really, really stupid. On the plus side, I'm still attempting to calculate the transfer of energy between my coffee and the chill morning air, so I guess I learned something in Chem last semester? And I still know some sign language, though I should try to brush up on it.
I'm kinda worried about leaving Nostalgia alone at home for so long. She's decided that the upstairs is the cool place to be, when frankly the upstairs is a DANGEROUS place to be. I cannot express my horror at this. If she insists on sneaking up there, I will have to go up and clean, and the other household members will hate me because that is Their Space which they have not touched in a fucking decade. But if the hallway and bathroom are clean and they keep their bedrooms shut, she can go up there safely. But right now there are chemicals and structurally unsound piles and I am really fucking pissed at my brother for ignoring everything I have ever said - he decided that she'd be fine as long as he was up there (ignoring her) and didn't tell me she'd snuck up there until we were going out for dinner and HE COULDN'T FIND HER. I have told him a thousand times that she is not allowed up there until it's clean. Fuck. I cannot wait to finish this goddamn degree and get a job and move the fuck out. I desperately, desperately want an apartment with just me and Nostalgia. I know I'll have to get a roommate at first (sdakjhfkjshd NO ONE I KNOW, THEY ALL SUCK AT MONEY) but srsly omg. Need to get ouuuuuuut. Need to live with people who can respect that I DON'T WANT MY CAT TO DIE BECAUSE THEY ARE SLOBS.
And no, I am not exaggerating the state of the upstairs. I cleaned the downstairs. Twice. I have photos from when I moved back here and began cleaning. Eventually I will write up a post about squalor in an upper-middle-class household. Part of living in squalor is hiding it, and hiding from it, so it's... it's a big deal to me when I share that part of my life. It's confrontation and honesty and vulnerability and regret and horror and shame and about a million other things all at once. Looking at those pictures makes me want to clean so I can be better than that. Sharing them makes me want to hide and cry, but it also makes me want to laugh and dance because I don't live like that any more. Hmm. I think today I shall clean out my room and my head and make a fresh start for the new school year. Today is glorious, there is a fresh breeze coming in, and I've been awake for four hours and done all my rounds on the Internet and it's nowhere near noon yet.
In the course of that last paragraph I went from angry helpless rage to happy determined productiveness. I am so weird.
I'm kinda worried about leaving Nostalgia alone at home for so long. She's decided that the upstairs is the cool place to be, when frankly the upstairs is a DANGEROUS place to be. I cannot express my horror at this. If she insists on sneaking up there, I will have to go up and clean, and the other household members will hate me because that is Their Space which they have not touched in a fucking decade. But if the hallway and bathroom are clean and they keep their bedrooms shut, she can go up there safely. But right now there are chemicals and structurally unsound piles and I am really fucking pissed at my brother for ignoring everything I have ever said - he decided that she'd be fine as long as he was up there (ignoring her) and didn't tell me she'd snuck up there until we were going out for dinner and HE COULDN'T FIND HER. I have told him a thousand times that she is not allowed up there until it's clean. Fuck. I cannot wait to finish this goddamn degree and get a job and move the fuck out. I desperately, desperately want an apartment with just me and Nostalgia. I know I'll have to get a roommate at first (sdakjhfkjshd NO ONE I KNOW, THEY ALL SUCK AT MONEY) but srsly omg. Need to get ouuuuuuut. Need to live with people who can respect that I DON'T WANT MY CAT TO DIE BECAUSE THEY ARE SLOBS.
And no, I am not exaggerating the state of the upstairs. I cleaned the downstairs. Twice. I have photos from when I moved back here and began cleaning. Eventually I will write up a post about squalor in an upper-middle-class household. Part of living in squalor is hiding it, and hiding from it, so it's... it's a big deal to me when I share that part of my life. It's confrontation and honesty and vulnerability and regret and horror and shame and about a million other things all at once. Looking at those pictures makes me want to clean so I can be better than that. Sharing them makes me want to hide and cry, but it also makes me want to laugh and dance because I don't live like that any more. Hmm. I think today I shall clean out my room and my head and make a fresh start for the new school year. Today is glorious, there is a fresh breeze coming in, and I've been awake for four hours and done all my rounds on the Internet and it's nowhere near noon yet.
In the course of that last paragraph I went from angry helpless rage to happy determined productiveness. I am so weird.
