mychai's Diaryland Diary

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So, you wanna know WHY I'm upset.

It seems like my last entry -- unbeknownst to me -- was asking for someone to chime in and piss me off just a little bit more. Go look in the messageboard at what someone had to chime in about. May I quote?

Yes, I may. "Otherwise your entries are getting kind of dry."

That was what I was talking about. Peoples' expectations from me. Peoples' expectations that I owe them something when I really don't. When it comes to my diary being a bit dry... I'm sorry. A diary is a somewhat accurate representation of my life. I guess I could go sky diving, date every night, and get myself into all kinds of quirky misadventures just to have something not-so-dry to write about.

But you want to know what I am pissed about -- other than what I have just talked about?

How about a list?

• I'm sick of attracting the biggest fucking morons to be my roommates. I've only had two roommates who I've lived with in great peace. Let's go through them all. The first guy -- named Chester -- was nicknamed Chester the Mollester. If that wasn't bad enough... I lived with him in a dorm room that was slightly larger than a prison cell. For the four weeks I lived with him, he bathed only twice. I moved out and into another room with a guy named Nathan who was probably the best breath of fresh air I've ever had -- both literally and figuratively. He was truly a fabulous roommate. After the dorm, I moved home for about a year and a half before coming back here. My first roommate upon returning liked to have sex on my bed, and he stole my glasses (kitchen, not eye) when he left. No big whoop: they were 4 for a buck at "Everything's A Dollar," but it's the principle. My next roommate (this is where it gets kind-of confusing, but stick with me) was the sorority chick. She was just an 18 year-old, still getting money from Daddy, who didn't realize that beer and vomit weren't all there was to life. Then Mandy. Can't say much about that or my car'll get egged again. Then there was this guy who I never could remember his name. He didn't realize that this apartment was my HOME and it was just his place to drop off his books and drink his beer so his folks (who live across town) wouldn't catch him getting drunk. That leads me up to the current roommate who smokes more weed than my sister. Goddamn. Someone PLEASE send me to Australia.
  

• When I think of the shit for roommates I've had in my past, the question invariably arises within myself, wondering if the bad luck I have with roommates is centered within myself and not within some sick joke God likes to play. So, out of a total of 8 roommates and only one or two have been good ones, this makes me feel like complete crap. In my big Report Card of Life, I get a big 'F' by the line that reads Plays Well With Others. Who wants to realize that they can't get along with anyone? What will my future wife think of me? Should I just give up and become Henry David Thoreau or Ted Kaczynski (sans bombs, of course). Who wants to find out they will one day be that weird old guy who lives alone in the house on the corner?

• My sister had a baby nearly two weeks ago. I've seen only one or two pictures of the baby -- and those were taken right after she was born. She was so wrapped up, I saw a knot of blankets and a set of eyes. I assumed the eyes were the baby's, but I didn't know for sure. My mom -- as dear and lovely as she is -- promised me she would send 3-4 rolls of developed film about a week ago. She PROMISED. But today, I called to say that I didn't get the pictures yet. "Oh. I was going to wait until I took another 2-3 rolls." She doesn't grasp the fact that I have never felt so excluded from my family ever in my life. Things like pictures and phone calls would help, but they are the things I'm not getting. It kind or ranks up there when I came home from boarding school, wondering where Dad was. "Oh. Yeah. Well, we got a divorce." Thanks for the heads-up.

• Umm. That's about it.

So, yeah, I'm in one of those places where it feels like everything -- and everyone -- is coming down on me all at once. Life is all about building the illusion that everything is fine-and-dandy. Sometimes the illusion breaks down and you have to start all over.

I finally got my Burn, Baby Burn! mixed CD done and enveloped. All they need are adequate postage and off they will be to the five people in my group.

Confused? "Burn, Baby Burn!" was a Blog music swap I joined where we all make CDs of our favorite music.

If you want to see the songlist, Go here. In fact, go there anyway. It took me about 10 minutes to do that. Appease me.

The reason it took so long was because I was talking to Belle while writing it. We are talking about gooseberry pies.

Gawd almighty. I love me some gooseberry pie. Damned Air Force diet.

Which has me down to 203. My recruiter said, without my clothes, I should be around 200.

I want to lose an additional 10 or so before I sign my fat-ass up. I don't want to be the "Pvt. Pyle" from "Full Metal Jacket" at boot camp. That would be a shame.

Well, I am off to bed. I have to be at work in 5 hours. Thanks for listening to me bitch and whine.

I needed it.

11:00 p.m. - Sat., April 27, 2002

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