time keeps on slippin, slippin
Surprisingly, I seem to be attracting potential roomates. The internet is a crazy thing, isn't it?
On one hand I think I might not want to live with someone I met on the internet, but on the other I think the sort of person I'd want to live with would be the sort who'd find a place to live on the internet.
I'm holding back a bit on responsing to these fellows as it seems there is a chance Seany might be interested in moving in, and overall I'm pretty lazy and that is just easier to deal with than trying to interview people and whatnot. It's good to know what sort of crazy you're getting involved with at the beginning, as opposed to learning as you go as has been the case with past roomates.
Still, this is good news and I'm not so worried about getting screwed.
I see the benefits of living with a stranger. There is no obligation to a stranger. If it doesn't work out or something comes up it is quite possible to kick his ass out without thinking twice about it. Also, it is much easier to define expectations with a stranger. It seems it should be the other way around, but that is just not reality. It's good to start out knowing where everyone stands rather than later realizing you're the one standing in quicksand.
It is such a peculiar experience to listen to music sometimes... there are so many songs that more or less give me dejevu. Songs that I associate with time periods or individuals or even feelings I can't identify verbally.
I really like Lifehouse, but it is so difficult to listen to. It puts me right into the backseat of Cori's hunk-of-junk jeep with Jake, 'ol Brian at the wheel. I can't remember what Cori threw at Jake that night... sometimes I remember some of the actions that took place over the course of life and wonder how we ever dealt with it. "What is real, just a dream" indeed. That's how it felt then and that's what it still says now. Bizarre I say.
That sort of reminds me of my therapy assignment for the week. I fail at these sorts of things, generally on purpose. I have to to survive I think, because I walk out of that office and am off to class. There's no break or time to think, there's sitting my ass in class and paying attention to so I don't get behind, which of course I always am to some extent. But anyway, I am supposed to identify reasons why I maintain old friendships past death and let them take me down with them.
It's strange; it's easy to look back at a relationship with an ex and be grateful it's gone, but then there are those friends who you look back on and wonder what the point was and is, but they still retain the title if only in name and nothing else.
Right now I think it is because it's easy to recover from a boyfriend when you're me and until recently they've been temporary constructs that are replaced when they die. There is the feeling that relationships end for a reason and you respond by holding out for a better one. You can't just get a new best friend, you just can't fabricate a 10-year relationship or even a 5-year relationship. You start from scratch or you stop trying, and when all the old ones die you aren't left with much, which makes it somehow seem sane to hold on to scraps that are really nothing already anyway just so you won't feel like a lifeless piece of crap.
So when one of these friends decides he wants to be friends after all, well can you blame me for wanting him to prove me wrong and have that work out? It won't, I know this, but if just once my pessimism could be proven wrong and something less-than-shitty were to occur, that would be pretty awesome. And of course there is no opportunity to be proven wrong without taking chances, and taking chances is what fucked me up in the first place so basically this is a horrible self-destructing cycle of hell. Awesome.
It's like my mind is telling me "if you can't trust this person, you can't trust anyone" and then it is saying, hey dumbass, you can't trust that person and you need to deal with that. But I can't deal with not being able to trust anyone, even though that is what I do anyway! This, of course, is why my guinea pig and my boyfriend are in effect my new best friends. I know well enough G loves me and doesn't care for people who aren't me and he is not going to change. And still my mind allows boyfriend to exist in a different context with different rules that say I don't want to think about the magnatude of long-term results where that is concerned and so either things will work out (whatever that means) or they won't, and if they don't it's because they weren't supposed to anyway so no use worrying. But as long as things are fine there is no reason for concern. I wish my mind would put friends into that framework too, but in reality I view friends with the expectation they will let me down.
I am tired and now that I've just baffled myself some more, I'm going to distract myself with a movie or something. I should be writing my history paper... I'll do it later or tomorrow or most likely Sunday night. Five pages promoting communism to Mexicans in 1905 shouldn't take too long...
Man, lit class bothered me today. I don't like the book we are reading and so am creeped out by those that think it's a masterpiece. I think there is something wrong thinking it is a tragedy when the rebel army that has for some reason decided to liberate Mexico from Mexicans is killed by a tribe of Indians. It is wrong that the narrator identified the Indians as barbarous and savage for defending themselves from the random band of crazed, racist cowboys who decided Mexicans were opressing Mexico and somehow had a system for discerning Indians from Mexicans, who at that time and in that area were one in the same in most cases. They were attacked by a Comanchee tribe, so in that instance it makes sence, but other parts are very muddled.
Also it's an epic and I don't like epics... I like complete sentences with correct grammar and punctuation in my novels, thanks.