Dang it!

I did it again! Nearly three weeks and nothin' on the blog. Oh, well, away we go.


So I don't think I've mentioned it on this yet, but I don't like one of my roommates. Like, really don't like her. She's rude and inconsiderate, messy and defensive about her mess. Basically, she's the dictionary definition of a bad roommate. About a month after we moved into our apartment, she and I had.it.out. Serious confrontation. She had gone into my room when I was at church to turn off my lamp without my permission, after I had asked all my roommates to please ask before going in when I'm not here. So I got snippy and told her that was not okay by me and to not do it again. A few hours later, I'm in the kitchen and she comes in and starts yelling at me about so much conflict she's had with me so I calmly and somewhat coolly address all her complaints. Since then, it hasn't necessarily been smooth sailing, but it's been better and I find she annoys me less.

My other two roommates on the other hand, HATE her, with a somewhat intense passion. She does treat them differently than she treats me, mostly because I think she's afraid of me and because I addressed our conflict early on. Yeah, she's still super obnoxious and downright intrusive at times (she's a knocker-and-walker, even on my bathroom...) But still, I have a lot of patience with her because I mostly think of her as an immature child that simply needs a little bit of guidance. However, my two roommates, whom I really love, cannot stand her and can't wait to get out of this apartment. So whenever they are complaining about her, I find myself sort of defending her, saying she's not that bad, it's just who she is and then they give me funny faces and keep on venting.

I've noticed this is sort of my habit. I am an empathizer to the max. I can feel bad for just about anyone, regardless of how they act towards me. I can see any opposite side of the argument, almost to a fault. It goes beyond being compassionate, I genuinely carry people's sadness with me. It's honestly why I can't get involved with helping charities or volunteering for pretty much anything, because the second I legitimately think about those in need, I am overwhelmed. By sadness, by hurt, by grief that their situation is less than...anything really. Seriously, even just an ambulance rushing by, I say a quick prayer and wait for the sirens to fade before I can move again, and it's too much. It is definitely selfish and downright mean, but I just can't bring myself to expand my realm of service past immediate loved ones. Even then, sometimes I feel so burdened by all the pain, I can't even cry because I feel like I'm torn in two.

I have no idea why I'm like this. I suppose it's a sort of a defense mechanism, but like put onto others? Because, say what you want about me, that's fine. But anyone else? Back off. I feel a lump in my throat every time anyone around me is threatened. Even my Spanish professor, who I really didn't like at first, the minute the rest of the class starts to not like her, I feel a rush of admiration and respect. It's so backwards and usually gets me way too many dirty looks, but I just can't stand by and see/hear people getting bashed when they can't defend themselves. I don't always defend them back, but I always feel the pain for them.

But of course, there is an upside to this. I have become unbelievably optimistic about the most random things. I have almost a naive innocence that the good will prevail over anything, that everyone will be fine and the world won't end. Really, it's more for my survival and sanity than anything else, but it fortunately extends past that for everything else as well. Sure, I tear up in the middle of class because of a book I finished 3 days ago and yeah, it's given me somewhat of a quick temper, but I would shoulder the burden a hundred times over than be an emotionless.

Oh, also, it's why I cry so much and so hard during movies, books and even a good song, because I feel the other persons emotions so fully, I'm overwhelmed by whatever they are so clearly feeling. That can get really obnoxious.


P.S. At least when I say, "I understand," it's almost always because I really, really do.

Hm. Well, that's nice.

I just finished completely scrubbing down my entire apartment. Like my bathtub, the entire floor with cleaner with bleach, every surface and even the refrigerator. It's sort of become my Sunday ritual to really clean the place before the week ahead, mostly so I can't use it as an excuse to avoid my work.


Okay, was that BORING enough for you!?!?

I have a bit of a dilemma. I still think I'm doing this whole college thing incorrectly. As I flip through people's pictures on facebook and see their crazy, wild (usually alcohol induced) adventures, I wonder why I don't do that. I don't feel the need whatsoever to find the best parties, have the coolest friends, or be tagged in the craziest of albums. I don't feel more comfortable surrounded by 5o strangers who are having "the best time." I don't even want to be super hipster and have the perfect camera/pants/shoes/eyewear.

It's like I skipped a step. In high school, I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Of course, for me, it was incredibly tame and more often than not I was home by 12:15, because my best friend had a curfew at midnight. Plus I was so worn out by theatre, most of the time I couldn't even stay awake past 11. And now, I'm here. Sitting in my apartment, writing up to do lists and going over my various classes and appointments for the week. I have post-its surrounding me full of reminders of what homework I have and stuff I can't forget, like bills and groceries. I'm calm and happy, proud of my clean apartment and organized school stuff.

Now, I know I just wrote a post saying how I'm not a grown up yet, and that's still true. But it's almost like I am trying so hard to not be a kid, that's I'm forgetting to be a college kid. What's worse is that I am perfectly content with that. In fact, as I look at people's pictures, I don't feel the least bit of envy towards them. Sure, they probably had a blast and will remember those nights for years to come. But that's not me. It never was and I honestly hope it never is. I've never been comfortable at parties and much prefer a coffee date or dinner and the movies. It's just who I am. So those kids who are "doing college right" can keep their late nights, hungover mornings, and wild adventures. I'd much rather do what I want than to pretend I want to do what they want to do.

Sure, I still feel like I'm missing out a bit, but it's more like I'm forgetting to do something or like I misplaced something. It's a vague, nagging feeling at the back of my mind that I will eventually forget about and move on to do something I actually want to do, like starting a new book or watching a movie with my roommate. It's what makes me happy. I'll still look through Facebook albums and wonder what I would have done had I been the one in the pictures, but it's more just something to do, not something I'd want to be a part of.

P.S. Am I wrong? Am I missing out?