(no subject)
Call it seasonal depression, but lately my life has been nothing but a series of incomplete journal entries.
12/2
I'm not going to pay attention today. I can't see the board anyway, but even if I could I wouldn't care enough to take notes. So here we go...
I don't know how I do it. I work harder than everone I know here for far less reward. My bank account is perpetually empty and I seldom get enough sleep to function as a normal human being. With the hours I keep at my shit ass job, I'm forced to cut my late night social schedule down dramatically, what that translates to is a reduction in my three most important values. $6.50 an hour isn't nearly enough money to make me even remotely satisfied with the situation, and my checks never even make it into the $200 range for ten days of work. Fuck that, I have a solution.
Next Problem: Rachel.
For the last three months or so, the two of us have been in some strange pseudo relationship with absolutely no communication about where we stand, or how to act appropriately. At first, that was great and I preffered it that way. But around a monrh ago everything started getting hazy. First, we still spent the same amount of time together, but stopped having sex as frequently. When she was an alcoholic, we fucked all the time. But when she started getting stoned exclusively, she'd barely make it to my bed before passing out. So we left for Thanksgiving break on a bit of a low note, but I didn't get too concerned or give it much thought. I had fun and I'm sure she did too, that's all that matters.
Now we're at the end of the first week after Thanksgiving, and what's going on?
Monday night she came over and we were up until 5, and I saw her for about five minutes Tuesday night before we went our seperate ways. But Wednesday, Wednesday was when things reached extreme bipolarity. At some point shortly after midnight I headed down to her room to see what she was up to. As I walked past the elevators on the third floor, I heard one open and there was that unmistakable voice coming out of the elevator. Just as a test, I kept walking to see how she'd react. She failed. As soon as they made it around the corner I heard some shuffling and sounds of escape from behind. Sure enough, when I turned around only Sarah remained. Despite my immediate fury (completely concealed of course), Sarah convinced me to come with her to the great room, where Rachel had run off to with Daniel. Daniel was a sketchy Pacific Islander, who I'd always gotten a strange feeling from.
Yeah, they were sitting close.
A few uncomfortable minutes later, Sarah and Daniel left to get more alcohol. Rachel was already loaded on Vicodin and Vodka. As soon as they left, she got right up on me and straddled me akwardly in my armchair. We beat around the bush for awhile, then we went up to my room, leaving her friends behind. Once upstairs, in her severely intoxicated state, she tried to
12:32 am 12/4
You're bored, frustrated even. You're not really in such a bad spot, you've got a lot to be thankful for. But you're in on a Saturday night, and despite the small crowds of friends and people you secretly loathe
1:35 am 12/8
I felt compelled to write tonight, because the torrent of my emotions (HA!) was so strong as to withstand the likes of cheap vodka, shots of tincture, resin, several bong hits and a sobe. Just an average night in the UC. Curtis went to get cigarettes and I'm holding off until then. I've been filled with discontent these past few days. I'm tired of having to justify myself to myself. Looking at my handwriting on this page, I am now convinced that I'm going completely insane.
So where do we start? What great personal tragedy do you have for us tonight?
It is only that of boredom and frustration. I think I've done everything I could have hoped to do this semester. I went to class, did well, got slapped, made friends in good places, contributed to a girl dropping out of school only to come back, set up shop, tried new drugs in new places... the list goes on. But lately, things haven't quite met your standards of outrages fun, have they? Maybe you're spoiled. Maybe you've indulged too much and will never live up to that pure joy that lasted a whole three months of constant debauchery, on your own, in Chicago.
Rachel's not coming. It's 1:59 and she's surely done for, somewhere else.
Though by now you know it doesn't matter. She was just a feeling. She was freedom with dark eyeliner, in stockings. Nothing mattered. Our late night escapades are the reason why my roommate and I both have our shelves set up as walls in the middle of the room. Just yesterday I found out that he told Rachel he's heard us at night and jerked off. THE CREEP BASTARD. He's asleep right now.
Yeah, I'd like to kill him.
12/2
I'm not going to pay attention today. I can't see the board anyway, but even if I could I wouldn't care enough to take notes. So here we go...
I don't know how I do it. I work harder than everone I know here for far less reward. My bank account is perpetually empty and I seldom get enough sleep to function as a normal human being. With the hours I keep at my shit ass job, I'm forced to cut my late night social schedule down dramatically, what that translates to is a reduction in my three most important values. $6.50 an hour isn't nearly enough money to make me even remotely satisfied with the situation, and my checks never even make it into the $200 range for ten days of work. Fuck that, I have a solution.
Next Problem: Rachel.
For the last three months or so, the two of us have been in some strange pseudo relationship with absolutely no communication about where we stand, or how to act appropriately. At first, that was great and I preffered it that way. But around a monrh ago everything started getting hazy. First, we still spent the same amount of time together, but stopped having sex as frequently. When she was an alcoholic, we fucked all the time. But when she started getting stoned exclusively, she'd barely make it to my bed before passing out. So we left for Thanksgiving break on a bit of a low note, but I didn't get too concerned or give it much thought. I had fun and I'm sure she did too, that's all that matters.
Now we're at the end of the first week after Thanksgiving, and what's going on?
Monday night she came over and we were up until 5, and I saw her for about five minutes Tuesday night before we went our seperate ways. But Wednesday, Wednesday was when things reached extreme bipolarity. At some point shortly after midnight I headed down to her room to see what she was up to. As I walked past the elevators on the third floor, I heard one open and there was that unmistakable voice coming out of the elevator. Just as a test, I kept walking to see how she'd react. She failed. As soon as they made it around the corner I heard some shuffling and sounds of escape from behind. Sure enough, when I turned around only Sarah remained. Despite my immediate fury (completely concealed of course), Sarah convinced me to come with her to the great room, where Rachel had run off to with Daniel. Daniel was a sketchy Pacific Islander, who I'd always gotten a strange feeling from.
Yeah, they were sitting close.
A few uncomfortable minutes later, Sarah and Daniel left to get more alcohol. Rachel was already loaded on Vicodin and Vodka. As soon as they left, she got right up on me and straddled me akwardly in my armchair. We beat around the bush for awhile, then we went up to my room, leaving her friends behind. Once upstairs, in her severely intoxicated state, she tried to
12:32 am 12/4
You're bored, frustrated even. You're not really in such a bad spot, you've got a lot to be thankful for. But you're in on a Saturday night, and despite the small crowds of friends and people you secretly loathe
1:35 am 12/8
I felt compelled to write tonight, because the torrent of my emotions (HA!) was so strong as to withstand the likes of cheap vodka, shots of tincture, resin, several bong hits and a sobe. Just an average night in the UC. Curtis went to get cigarettes and I'm holding off until then. I've been filled with discontent these past few days. I'm tired of having to justify myself to myself. Looking at my handwriting on this page, I am now convinced that I'm going completely insane.
So where do we start? What great personal tragedy do you have for us tonight?
It is only that of boredom and frustration. I think I've done everything I could have hoped to do this semester. I went to class, did well, got slapped, made friends in good places, contributed to a girl dropping out of school only to come back, set up shop, tried new drugs in new places... the list goes on. But lately, things haven't quite met your standards of outrages fun, have they? Maybe you're spoiled. Maybe you've indulged too much and will never live up to that pure joy that lasted a whole three months of constant debauchery, on your own, in Chicago.
Rachel's not coming. It's 1:59 and she's surely done for, somewhere else.
Though by now you know it doesn't matter. She was just a feeling. She was freedom with dark eyeliner, in stockings. Nothing mattered. Our late night escapades are the reason why my roommate and I both have our shelves set up as walls in the middle of the room. Just yesterday I found out that he told Rachel he's heard us at night and jerked off. THE CREEP BASTARD. He's asleep right now.
Yeah, I'd like to kill him.