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11 More Days

Here is a play by play of what just took place in the room:

1) James' phone rings.
2) James awakens.
3) I realize that James isn't wearing a shirt and I immediately place my laptop creatively on my lap in order to block my peripheral.
4) James moves around looking for his phone.
5) James farts.
6) James realizes that he has missed the call.
7) James tells me how hungry he is.
8) James asks if I've eaten and I say that I have and then he says, "You could have at least picked something up for JPS" (JPS is a nickname that we have created for James pronounced "jipps")
9) James' phone rings again. Twice.
10) Three times.

I have been listening to the alarm of The Dicks next door going off for over an hour. After James exclaimed how annoying it was, coincidentally it turned off.

Anyway, last night I went back home... well not actually home, but close to home. My friends and I went to some person's new apartment. There were four girls from Canada there, all of which were wearing cheap tight clothes and one of which was wearing a white belt with silver hardware. Someone poured a tap water and showed everyone in the room how it looked like there was a lot of oxygen in the water. The Canadians then clarified that all water has oxygen in it. I then stated that that is why it is called H2O, two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen. Today, I smell like day old pot, alcohol, and moisturizer.

I don't really remember a lot about last night, I just remember being confused, unsettled, and of course, anxious and heinous. I met a lot of new people, all of whom probably didn't like me because of my evident awkwardness. I slept in a bed that had a ton of crumbs in it with two other people. I remember thinking it was comfortable, but I realized that I was clearly mistaken after awakening this morning. I also engaged in a lot of awkward eye contact... that is one of my most vivid memories.

Today, after typing this entry, I'm going to sleep for a while and then wait for my backpack to arrive that I left at the apartment we went to. Later on tonight, I'm going to start my homework.

11 more days.

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Shithole Unifuckface

It is almost March. I am looking especially forward to March 9th because then the clock in my dorm will no longer be an hour ahead and it will not bother me every time I look at it.

Every day in History class I take out my laptop and usually roam around the internet, however only looking at a select few web sites that I have deemed "in class appropriate". By that I basically mean porn has been excluded.  Today I felt awkward using my laptop because a) no one else in my class was and b) I just feel bad for my history teacher. We all began to pack up our bags 4 minutes before class was going to end, creating a wave of noise around the room. If I were him, I would find that very annoying. Since I am an asshole, however, I too packed up my stuff... and I don't feel even slightly guilty about it.

I'm supposed to go to the gym with one of my kind of friends from this shithole today. My gym endeavors have not been very successful thus far. I had never been to the Gym before I began attending Shithole Unifuckface, and about the third time I went while I was here I nearly passed out after spending 7 minutes on an exercise bike. I have since graduated from the exercise bike to the treadmill, however I have also almost passed out about twice since then. Although I am clearly pathetically out of shape, I have to wonder if there is something else wrong with me because even James might be able to spend 7 minutes on the exercise bike. Anyway, I am still going to avoid the investigation of what is wrong with me because it will likely involve drawing blood... which might also make me pass out.

Keep in mind, however, that I have never actually passed out at the gym. Just almost.

I have started to grow a liking for my Egyptian teacher. "My Egyptian teacher" meaning my teacher who is from Egypt, I do not take an Egyptian class. "Grow a liking" also sounds kind of sketchy. I do not mean it in its seemingly controversial context.

My next-door-neighbor-roommates aka "The Dicks" are making a lot of noise right now. I mean, it is 3:15 PM after all so I can't say they're disrupting anything, but still. They need to shut the fuck up or perhaps I will slip a threatening note under their door. Probably not, though. I'm a pussy.

Every time someone opens the door to enter our hall, I always cringe thinking that it is one of my roommates and they are about to punch in the code to enter the room. I don't know why I ever thought that I shouldn't live in a single. I mean, although they don't offer singles to people at this shithole who do not have medical/mental problems, I clearly should have taken that as a sign that I should reconsider my college choice.

I joined two groups on Vox today in order to gain exposure. I'm such a tool.

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I thought after I wrote this entry that I would have a title. I don't.

I think that being at school equates in my life to depression and a bitter hatred for everything. I was in a fine mood today, even on the car ride to school. Then, I walked into my dorm and immediately snapped into the reality of what the next 2.5 weeks will entail: being awkward, listening to James talk on the phone about the Oscars, spending many, many hours at the library not because of my workload but because of the failing functioning of my brain, smelling James' farts, living in a pile of dust and lint from James' towels, and listening to the sound James' phone makes when it is dying.

I make fun of James a lot, but at the same time I almost admire him because in spite of his 400poundedness, smell, and stutter, he is somehow happy. He embraces his bizarreness to the fullest extent.

I cannot believe that I just put James and admire in the same sentence. My entries have become a little more philosophical lately simply because I do not have enough energy to employ my dry sense of humor anymore when no one reads this. By philosophical, I of course mean boring as fucking shit.

Right now, I am tired but realize that I will not be able to fall asleep when I lay down to go to bed and I also am dreading the three classes that I have tomorrow for which I am extremely unprepared. In spite of my dread, I also do not give a shit at the same time. I suppose I am ambivalent, though I am not sure if that is the proper usage of that word. I do not have "strong feelings in opposing directions", I basically just have two feelings that result from my laziness.

I really, really hate taking Spanish. I'm not very good at it, I know that I'll never be able to speak it, and I don't like the people in my class. Though, the people in my psychology class truly raise the bar of heinousness. The other day I was leaving class and  I heard a girl go up to the teacher after class and, after the teacher praised her for her obnoxious amount of participation, she said, "I just really have an interest in knowing how people think and work. Psychology IS my major, so I really take it seriously." I only listened to those two sentences before my brain threw up on itself and I had to leave the room. I fucking hate people. A few classes later that same dumb ass-licking bitch corrected me after I said something that was wrong about APA citations when she wasn't even asked to. Her voice is extremely nasal too. People who major in psychology go beyond all boundaries of annoying and reach into a new dimension of absolute intolerability.

Enough about that, though. I'm getting sick of the people who live next to me. By "sick of" I mean that I planted a bomb in their room. Okay, I'm just kidding. But, every night at 1 AM they never fail to be dicks which makes me want to chop their heads off.

Side note: James literally smells like 10 day old macaroni and cheese that has been left out in the sun and then shat on. Well, I guess not shat on. That's probably just a remnant from his most recent fart.

I suppose that I have now cleared my mind.

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A Whole Bunch of Lackluster Shit!

My stitches were removed today. Apparently there were 7 stitches, not 6. The doctor who put them in at the hospital must have lost count or something which, of course, is very comforting. I was supposed to get them out on Friday at 1:15, however I was running about 10 minutes late because of my horrible sense of direction and, when my mom called to inform the bitches who work at the front desk of my whereabouts, they told me that I would have to wait until Monday because they were "too busy".

a) Clearly I would have been waiting for a half hour anyway.
b) If they're very busy, I'd probably be waiting for a minimum of one hour.
c) It boggles my mind that, even though it's never an issue if the doctor is late, appointments must be rescheduled if the patient whom is paying the doctor is running 10 minutes late.

Overall, thank you Family Doctors for being absolute dicks.

I don't really know what's making me want to post here today. I have nothing to talk about as I went home for the weekend and do not have any James stories. I guess I just wanted to. Currently, I have to take a shit. I also have to read for "What it Means to be Human", a class that I'm forced to take at Salve Reheinous which is of course, as you obviously can tell from the name, is absolutely invigorating. I'm supposed to read "Children of the Alley" which is basically a series of stories from the Bible that are twisted around and Egyptianized. My teacher is from Egypt, actually. I'm supposed to get a paper back from her that I spent a very long time doing as a result of my loss of brain capacity and apparently she is a very hard grader. I never handle getting bad grades on papers well. If I'm not writing about a topic that I have interest in, I think that my teachers should understand that my paper is going to suck. If they can't understand, then maybe they should befriend the dicks at Family Doctors or something.

I have no idea why I'm even speaking right now. This shit is so fucking boring, I know. I went to my grandmothers house today and told them that I walked into a tree branch and that is how I injured my eye. Telling them the real story is a) too difficult to explain and b) highly bizarre and embarrassing which results in a lot of nervous heinousness. My grandmother and my aunt make a very big deal about everything. I was going to wear a sweater I just bought over to their house, but then I decided against it because I didn't want them to comment on it and tell me how nice it was. Even when I wear a sweatshirt from Old Navy they make a big deal out of it. They're remodeling their entire house, actually. By "remodeling", I of course mean "putting up new wallpaper".

By the way, my eyebrow is fucked up. The end of it is like thinning and looks like shit. I don't really care too much about my appearance (which is why I wore the same sweatpants 4 days in a row last week), but people with weird eyebrows kind of freak me out. Especially people who like, draw/have tattooed on eyebrows. I know they can't do anything about it, but like... it's just weird and makes me uncomfortable because I can't help but stare.

I've been watching the new HBO series "In Treatment" lately. It's pretty good, actually. It's been the first actual TV show (not reality TV) that I've liked since "Friends" went off the air.

In the title of this entry I initially was going to use the word "boring" instead of "lackluster". I then looked at the word "boring" and decided to copy and paste it into Microsoft Word and use the thesaurus because I had nothing better to do. Thus, "lackluster" was birthed.

I think I have cleared my mind of all that is sleep-worthy now. I will use this entry in the future for when I am unable to sleep due to staying up until 3 AM watching YouTube videos and then trying to fall asleep at 12 AM the next night in order to be up for class at 8 AM. I am also going to consider submitting it to a medical researcher to use as a very practical substitute for anesthesiology. At least it will serve some definite purpose!

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The Analysis of My Own Heinousness

I just typed an entry that was incredibly pathetic and self-loathing. Then I realized that I didn't care because no one reads this. Now I regret erasing it.

Over the weekend I split my head open on a dry wall. I was trying to jump from one bed to another and, apparently, it wasn't as impressive of a display as i had hoped it would have been. I had to get six stitches. I also have an enormous black eye that is finally starting to open and a huge popped blood vessel in my eye. Overall, I look really good.

I should be studying for my Human Bio exam that I have tomorrow. I spent about 6 hours in the library tonight, most of which I spent wondering what happened to my brain cells that used to allow me to study for tests in about an hour. Currently, I am thinking of ways to murder the people who live in the dorm next to me for being so obnoxiously loud consistently at about 1 AM every night.

I also have triggered a part in my brain that makes me extremely nervous over the past few months. I become particularly nervous in social situations (this has actually been going on for years). I have lost the ability to carry on a conversation and I know that it is because of my own heinousness, not the heinousness of others. Although, others can be extremely heinous, however when I'm not being heinous I am able to realize that and not really care about it. Please do not spend any amount of time trying to comprehend the absolutely fucked up mental processes that I expressed in detail in the last few sentences. I think I should go to a psychiatrist.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, my "social anxiety" (I did some googling and now think that I have it). As much as I resent others in so many ways, I often find myself trying to talk to them (and sounding really retarded at the same time) just so that they do not have a negative opinion of me. I also find myself very awkward when I'm alone with my semi-normal-except-for-the-projectile-vomiting-incident roommate. He really is normal, actually, but for some reason I am trapped in a shell of my own heinousness (word count for "heinousness" in this entry: 3 times) and cannot converse with him. It is extremely frustrating and I find myself trying to point out things about him that are heinous in order to make myself feel better about my own heinousness (4 times).

Overall, my brain has been engaging in some really fucked up activity that has prevented me from doing a lot of things. Maybe I left a majority of my brain cells on the dry wall that I face-planted into or something. Or maybe having to listen to James on a daily basis has started to eat away at my brain. I haven't decided yet.

What will I even write about on this when I no longer live with James? He has become such an integral part of this little journal that no one reads! I will have nothing to write about, I'm sure, because nothing in my life can provide any form of writing. Except, of course, my heinousness.

Anyway, I will stop writing this entry now because I think that I have crossed the line from "self-loathing" and "pathetic" to "shut the fuck up you stupid self-absorbed asshole".

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I Had To Document This Moment In Time

I'm back at school. With James. Need I say more? Yes.

James is listening to a band called "Peaches". Their songs are as follows:

"Shake your dick, shake your tits"

"Fuck the pain away" (Or "Sucking on my titties"...whichever you prefer)

"Slapping that dick all over the place"

Now, I believe I have said enough.

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