The long ass post that explains too much
So here's what had me crying last night:
So, here's the thing. I live in Redstone Apartments with three other people, Carly, Courtney and Katie. I've known Carly and Courtney since freshman year, and they lived with Katie last year, so I kind of know her, but not as well. The majority of my friends from last year (the Anime kids) live in the Anime as an Art Form suites in Living/Learning, a separate dorm. Lately I've been spending the majority of my time before classes in my apartment, sometimes making lunch, then I take my books and computer and I go to class and then afterwards hang out at L/L and have dinner and watch movies and tv. We tend to stay up late, and I walk back to my apartment sometime after midnight.
The reason I do this? Well, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays my last class is with my other friend Katie (an anime girl) so I head back to the suits and I get to hang with everyone for a long time. Tuesdays and Thursdays I actually have class in L/L at 5 (Japanese) so it only makes sense to stay there and have dinner. Speaking of dinner, I don't actually have a food plan for the school, since I don't have to have one because I technically live off campus. So my parents pay for food for me, and you've probably already read about my credit card drama with my mother.
So last night, I come home to a typed note on my bed from my roommates that basically says I'm not there enough, I don't clean enough and I don't chip in enough for food.
The fuck? No, I'm not there enough, and while that's not a big deal to them as much, I can't help it. I don't really feel comfortable there. Not anymore. See, when I first agreed to the lease, Courtney and Carly weren't potheads. They are now. Courtney smokes on average three bowls a day, and Carly used to smoke as much, although she's cut back to about a bowl a day. I don't smoke. I just don't. It doesn't appeal to me at all. I don't care if they do, but when I want to hang out with someone, I would like them to be able to hold a coherent thought in their head for more than thirty seconds (which, Courtney definitely can't). And also, they really don't like (at least Courtney) hanging out high when other people aren't high. They treat me like a stick in the mud because I don't smoke with them. That they really can't talk to me about any of that stuff because I've never been high. And then they invite their friends over, who are nice and all, but then they all barricade themselves in one of their rooms and smoke up and leave for a few hours. Yeah, I want to sit alone in the living room waiting for them to finish up. So, needless to say, I don't like being there a lot.
Now, I don't clean enough? Again, I'm not there and I don't make a mess. Nothing I own besides the TV and DVD player are in the living room. I don't make it a mess. Sure, I'll help if there's a big clean going on, but I feel like they want me to clean up after them in the name of "equality." The same goes for the dishes. When Court and Carly get high, they make food. Like pasta and mac and cheese and pancakes. It means a lot of dishes. They fill the sink about twice a day and just leave the dishes there for six hours until they've come down. Then the next morning they complain about having just done the dishes yesterday. Well, yeah, that's what happens when you cook food. The most I've made in the apartment in the last three weeks has been soup. And when I'm done, I wash the pot and bowl and spoon and put them away. Again, I don't want to have to do a share of dishes that I didn't help make, all the time.
And the food thing? When I fucking buy food and put it in the cabinets, guess what, unless it's something they don't like, it gets eaten when they get the munchies. My bagels, my rolls, my chips, my cookies, my candy, my crackers all eaten before I get a chance to because they can't control themselves when they're high. I've already started keeping stuff in my room, but we have a kitchen with cabinets. I feel like I should be able to leave my food there. I just don't eat the same food as them, I shouldn't chip in for things I won't eat or I don't get to eat. There's one thing when I'm buying soda we all drink or bread we all share, but it's getting ridiculous.
Still, I can understand where they're coming from and I don't mind pitching in a bit more, but it doesn't stop me from feeling sick, betrayed and near tears everytime I think about it. I'm uncomfortable in my own home. It's going to be one fucking awkward weekend and it sucks because I love Halloween.
I'd talk to them tonight, but you want to know why I can't? They're shrooming tonight.
So, here's the thing. I live in Redstone Apartments with three other people, Carly, Courtney and Katie. I've known Carly and Courtney since freshman year, and they lived with Katie last year, so I kind of know her, but not as well. The majority of my friends from last year (the Anime kids) live in the Anime as an Art Form suites in Living/Learning, a separate dorm. Lately I've been spending the majority of my time before classes in my apartment, sometimes making lunch, then I take my books and computer and I go to class and then afterwards hang out at L/L and have dinner and watch movies and tv. We tend to stay up late, and I walk back to my apartment sometime after midnight.
The reason I do this? Well, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays my last class is with my other friend Katie (an anime girl) so I head back to the suits and I get to hang with everyone for a long time. Tuesdays and Thursdays I actually have class in L/L at 5 (Japanese) so it only makes sense to stay there and have dinner. Speaking of dinner, I don't actually have a food plan for the school, since I don't have to have one because I technically live off campus. So my parents pay for food for me, and you've probably already read about my credit card drama with my mother.
So last night, I come home to a typed note on my bed from my roommates that basically says I'm not there enough, I don't clean enough and I don't chip in enough for food.
The fuck? No, I'm not there enough, and while that's not a big deal to them as much, I can't help it. I don't really feel comfortable there. Not anymore. See, when I first agreed to the lease, Courtney and Carly weren't potheads. They are now. Courtney smokes on average three bowls a day, and Carly used to smoke as much, although she's cut back to about a bowl a day. I don't smoke. I just don't. It doesn't appeal to me at all. I don't care if they do, but when I want to hang out with someone, I would like them to be able to hold a coherent thought in their head for more than thirty seconds (which, Courtney definitely can't). And also, they really don't like (at least Courtney) hanging out high when other people aren't high. They treat me like a stick in the mud because I don't smoke with them. That they really can't talk to me about any of that stuff because I've never been high. And then they invite their friends over, who are nice and all, but then they all barricade themselves in one of their rooms and smoke up and leave for a few hours. Yeah, I want to sit alone in the living room waiting for them to finish up. So, needless to say, I don't like being there a lot.
Now, I don't clean enough? Again, I'm not there and I don't make a mess. Nothing I own besides the TV and DVD player are in the living room. I don't make it a mess. Sure, I'll help if there's a big clean going on, but I feel like they want me to clean up after them in the name of "equality." The same goes for the dishes. When Court and Carly get high, they make food. Like pasta and mac and cheese and pancakes. It means a lot of dishes. They fill the sink about twice a day and just leave the dishes there for six hours until they've come down. Then the next morning they complain about having just done the dishes yesterday. Well, yeah, that's what happens when you cook food. The most I've made in the apartment in the last three weeks has been soup. And when I'm done, I wash the pot and bowl and spoon and put them away. Again, I don't want to have to do a share of dishes that I didn't help make, all the time.
And the food thing? When I fucking buy food and put it in the cabinets, guess what, unless it's something they don't like, it gets eaten when they get the munchies. My bagels, my rolls, my chips, my cookies, my candy, my crackers all eaten before I get a chance to because they can't control themselves when they're high. I've already started keeping stuff in my room, but we have a kitchen with cabinets. I feel like I should be able to leave my food there. I just don't eat the same food as them, I shouldn't chip in for things I won't eat or I don't get to eat. There's one thing when I'm buying soda we all drink or bread we all share, but it's getting ridiculous.
Still, I can understand where they're coming from and I don't mind pitching in a bit more, but it doesn't stop me from feeling sick, betrayed and near tears everytime I think about it. I'm uncomfortable in my own home. It's going to be one fucking awkward weekend and it sucks because I love Halloween.
I'd talk to them tonight, but you want to know why I can't? They're shrooming tonight.