Boy-Time

I absolutely must have an explanation here.
Why is it, that when a guy says he'll call you at specific time, it always winds up taking him a few days to get that time right?
This has always flabbergasted me to no end, as I run a tight ship, schedule-wise. I have things to do. I'm already making time appear out of thin air for him, so what's a few minutes on the phone, letting me know that plans have changed, right?
Am I not entitled to that?
Perhaps I'm just frustrated that something came up, and for whatever reason, two out the four times he said he'd call at a certain time, he hasn't. Perhaps.
It's also true that I don't particularly like the male gender as a whole at the moment, due to the usual melodramatic banter that goes on in my home. Same story, different day; that sort of thing.
Oh. Have I not told you?
I, antisocial to a painful fault, am living with five other human beings. Fairly, I have warmed them that I am not always in the best spirits when it comes to human beings, and that in those instances, I am better left to my own devices. I chose, both wisely and not-so-much, to be appointed the head of this household. The option for this job would not necessarily have been the best choice, as it wields a great deal of poor, and must be maintained by an objective party, such as myself. However, at this present time, I am beginning to lack objectivity, as the people in my life continue to fail at cohabitation.
Why is it, I ask, that some just cannot grasp the concept that when you move into a home, agreeing to follow the rules, you CONTINUE to follow them? While at the same time, others don't realize that in order to LIVE, you must learn to deal with the flaws of others. (Most human beings are disastrously flawed, and should be put out of their misery early, in my opinion.)

Perhaps I view things this way because I am so shamelessly disconnected from others.

But I doubt it.

iPod

Hooray! Today is a day of celebration.
I have an iPod, and it is in working order. Eight gig, hot pink, nano video. I am dumb to speak, with joy.
The reasoning behind my happiness is this: the first iPod I ever owned was stolen, and I've been two years on the road, aching for a new one.
Why my fascination with this tiny object? Well, though it's not as fancy as some of Apple's recent technology, it will hold four thousand songs. Four thousand songs is plenty for someone who doesn't spend much time in the car, and doesn't have a great distance to trek from class to class.
I am content.

I should admit, however, that I would prefer a Zune. I enjoy the smart technology it holds, and it seems to have a more sleek design, though this has little to do with how it will work.
I like flashy things, what can I say?
Don't get me wrong, iPod. You are the love of my life.

Movie Scoring, Here I Come!

Interesting new direction, people.
I've decided that if teaching high school kids the History of the world, or this fine nation that we live in, does not work out...well, I'll go to school to score movies.
Think back to every favorite film you've ever had.
The melodic music that falls together as a beautiful precursor to each scene? Well, it's actually someones job to put that all in order.
I want that job.
After spending hours last night reading books on death, disease, and insanity, I decided listening to some old movie soundtrack favorites of mine would relieve some of the frustration. (Hans Zimmer, I would give my right arm to spend an hour with you.)
Pearl Harbor and Twilight (Don't judge. The book was amazing, and the soundtrack is riveting.) soundtracks later, I have rekindled my passion for classical and/or orchestrated music. So much emotion, and most people don't even catch on. Why? Because the dialogue in movies/films today takes over. The days of the musical have passed us by, sadly.
Live theater is the only place now where one can truly film music and acting on the same page.
So I have a mission for each of you.
Hell, I spend a good portion of my weekends watching movies from the mid-forties/fifties. Music was half the fun in those days. I so look forward to watching those old black and whites, where the stars still respect the rules of propriety, and singing seems to get the point across so much more beautifully. Where's the fault in any of that?!
Watch a favorite movie at some point this week.
Try to pick up on music you would have missed.
You won't regret it.
:]

See? I don't ALWAYS complain. :)

Oh, Bud Light

After a long evening spent drinking Bud Light and smoking monumental amounts of weed, I have come to a decision. It's definitely time for me to take a break from drinking. I'm not by any means saying that I drink often, either.
I just don't think drinking agrees with me as well as smoking does. Smoking seems to fight the depression and Attention Deficit, but drinking only adds to both.
I have also decided that when I do drink, I enjoy doing so alone. My irritation with the human race seems to only get more intense with the consumption of alcohol.
Review your vices for a moment. There has to be one that really seems useless to you, even if you cannot seem to live without it. Well, beer it is, for me.

The next portion of this can only be dedicated to Vodka, because Vodka is the bane of my very existence. Three shots, in fifteen minutes. I was spinning like a propeller on an airplane, and actually had to make myself stop drinking because I felt so sick to my stomach. Why is it, I wonder, that a woman of my nationality and history of familial alcoholism, cannot handle such a beverage?
I believe that the answer is simple; Vodka was designed for women who don't drink often, and like to get smashed when they do. Hello, high school girls. I have come to this conclusion based on the number of young women I have witnessed pouring the filthy stuff down their throats, and then complaining about their decision making skills the next morning.
For this reason, I'll take my whiskey and coke any day. I like to be able to make decisions I don't regret, and I haven't regretted a damn thing at all, lately. So cheap drunks, I advise you. Switch to cheap whiskey. It's harsh, but mix it with some Ginger Ale, and you should be all set.

Jim Beam, anyone?
-fin

Oh, sex.

Okay, okay. So perhaps I'm bitter. But the sounds of vicious lovemaking coming from the bedroom adjacent to mine tell me that I'm just a normal person, who is annoyed by the amount of noise her roommates feel they need to make during sex.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy sex as much as the next person, and most would think my adverse attitude toward what is going on in the next room is based solely on frustration.
Blah blah, single woman not getting laid. She's just mad because she's not getting any.
Nope, not the case. I am, however, irritated about the fact that I am basically shut in my room until they decide that they're done.
Oh my god.
Now they're talking about getting married.

Fuck my life, guys.
What's girl to do. They keep moving around, and I can only hope that means I can fucking piss.
It's been well over an hour.
>:[
-fin.