The Shaking Fist

I think that just barely being able to hear someone’s music is one of my biggest pet peeves. If I can hear it anyway, just play that shit. Blasting music, no matter what it is, is better than just barely being able to hear… something. It especially bothers me when I know it’s good music.

I think it’s safe to say I despise headphones in the office in general. It’s either waaay too quiet because nobody is talking to each other, or the quiet is accentuated by being able to hear someone’s headphones. Either way, it drives me up a fucking wall.

*grinds teeth and clenches fists*

(edit: wow, think I was bitter for some reason when I wrote this…)

After reading what Alli wrote to everybody, I don’t know whether to crack up or be pissed off. So I had my laugh and got that out of the way, and now I’m just pissed.

Ana and I have done nothing but help that girl out the six months that she’s been here. Rides to work (with no offers to compensate for time or gas), full usage of my computer even when I’m gone, food, usage of various household basics that she’s never replenished, usage of our dishes (which mysteriously disappeared for weeks without being washed, and some we may never see again), usage of our movies (which some were carelessly scratched to the point where we don’t even know if they work)… the list goes on and on. We cleaned up after her and her friends the entire time. All of this without so much as a “thank you” or even an acknowledgement. Just angry notes and shit talked about us to all her little friends about what “flippant” and “seething” bitches we are for asking her to do her part around the house, trying to reclaim what little is left of our stuff that she took (that she “didn’t have”), and putting locks on our doors.

What amuses me is that during all her shit talking, miss high-and-mighty completely left out the fact that she’s a lazy, inconsiderate freeloader, which was the ultimate deciding factor in getting her ass kicked out and losing her right to be able to use our shit. Her having her collection of friends coming over at all hours of the night was just an added reason, and of course the landlord doesn’t want that going on in a working class community, so she’s gonna say something about it. Shit, if you had to wake up at 5am to commute to god-knows-where, you sure as hell wouldn’t want a group of noisy kids walking around outside your window or upstairs from you while you’re trying to get some sleep.

So now she’s crying to all her little friends that we’re kicking her out, when she said herself that she’s been wanting to leave for a couple months now (haha Bijan, you called that one!). Why didn’t she? The world may never know. What I do know though, is that Ana and I will be breathing a sigh of relief on the 15th.

Why is it that the people downstairs only blast their bass whenever I want to sleep? Do they have some sort of camera up here? Maybe some sort of sensor under where the bed is? They must know where the bed is, because they put their stereo right under it…

I tend to be an overly nice person. I suppose it’s because I like to see people happy, and if they’re not, I sometimes automatically wonder if it’s my fault somehow. I think of being nice as a karma thing, and a “do unto others” thing. That maybe if I’m nice to the world, it’ll be influenced to be nice back to me. The world seriously lacks nice people sometimes, and being mean isn’t going to convince people to treat you nicer. This is what goes through my head.

Then there comes a point when I start thinking that maybe it’s all a load of horseshit and I’ve just got a serious case of the Doormat Syndrome. These points come periodically throughout my life, yet somehow I always go back to being nice after the phase is over. It’s like clockwork. Every time though I always remember the times before, and therefore my saturation point gets a smidge lower.

When I come to these points, I first start dwelling on the thing(s) that bothers me, until I get pissed off. But the pissed off phase of it is the most confusing part, because that’s when my two most opposite sides start battling it out. Am I legitimately pissed off? Am I overreacting? Am I just being hormonal? Would I slap me if I was anybody else? I try to get other peoples’ opinions on my reactions to try and get my bearings, but I don’t want people thinking that I’m complaining about my situations. So if it seems that way, I apologize to the few of you that I do vent to. I find confrontations very hard because I always wonder if I’m the one that’s in the wrong, and I don’t want to come off as an uncompassionate, irrational bitch to anyone. So I try my best to be diplomatic. And then I wonder if I’m a tool. This usually goes on for a while until one side of me wins. And then the cycle starts again.

Knowing someone that’s being bothered by the same situation makes me feel better, because they know all of the facts firsthand, and would know whether or not I’m overreacting or just finally seeing it as I should have been from the beginning.

Anyway, I’m hoping that writing this will help me to go back to sleep, because this has been bothering me for a few hours so far this morning. And anybody who knows me knows I don’t get up early.

What is up with the daily spam people have been trying to submit in my comments lately? Oy vey. I never got that craziness before.

Who in their right mind blasts music at 8:15 on a Saturday morning in an apartment complex, and after complaints turns it down to where you can hear the bass, but not feel it anymore?

Evil, evil people.

I knew I should have tried getting sleep before 4am, but it’s too late now.

I think I’m turning into my dad.

I got an envelope in the mail today from Brooks with a copy of the commencement program from my graduation and a photo of a bunch of kids that graduated. Not only had I never even heard of two of the six supposed “VisCom grads” listed in the program, I didn’t know a single person that was in the photo either. I think they sent me a picture of Still kids. Perhaps they did because they didn’t have the right picture to give me. And why is that? Because they didn’t take pictures of the VisCom kids there at all. They could have at least sent me a picture with film or VJ kids in it, I’d have at least recognized people.

They have no love for the VisCom.

I just wanted to take this brief moment to say:

That is all.