screw this vile, vomitous retrograde crap.
Ok, ok. It's February 9, 2001, 12:5- am.
Screw this mercury retrograde crap. I think all it's done is keep me up at ungodly hours and make me want to torture helpless things ... then feel all bad about it. Not that I would ever torture helpless things, but if I did I know I'd be traumatized *sigh*
People are just so vile and stupid sometimes. And then when you feel all vile and stupid, you are faced with the knowledge that you are just like those extraordinarily irritating people. Then it's all big drops of hell from there.
This morning started off on an interesting foot. Let us say that I did not want to roll out of bed. Arr. I actually reset the alarm several times and fell asleep again before I realized that having the alarm set to fifteen after nine wasn't going to do much good when I wanted to get to my ten o'clock early. O, the hell that is college...
So after bitching in the DryHeave, I got ready in record time and took off to class. Everything was going rather well. No big upsets or anything like that to describe to you. Then came the Analsis of Music Test.
It wasn't that big of a deal... but I'm in mercury retrograde (as in it's fucking with my sign) and getting minimal sleep is not good for the grouchy Ber. So, the fact that I had studied several millions things and the things I *didn't* look at in detail being on the test made me want to stand up and scream at the instructor until my throat was bloody. It's not our fault he's a megalomaniac and has a fucking undergraduate degree in rocket science, studied music in Vienna, blah blah blah. It's also not his fault that we're all peons, I'm a grouch and I've had a damn bad day already in a few hours of waking up. Errr.
So then, Jenny (good Jenny, my ex roommate) proceeds to finish her test in novel style as she usually does, and comes back to make a brief complaint about how her hand is hurting. I don't know why, but that made me want to punch something. I wasn't directly angry at her. I guess maybe morning makes me understand sometimes that I want life to be all about me before noon. Well I guess that's too bad *grin*
Then we went through a Fugue, which is the last thing I wanted to do (since I was a grouchy little bitch.) After that, Jenny became impatient because RocketMan always holds us over and she can never get to her next class... well, soon enough for her. So she always begins shifting, freaking out, telling me she has to leave NOW, getting all impatient and zipping her stuff up. This makes me want to possess her body on a Pazuzu scale, get her shit together and leave class for her in the totally rude manner I would if I were in her shoes. Then I (as her) would tell me to send the las few minutes of notes I missed (we're both pretty good about notes,) and I'd be hi-hoing away from the boredom that is looking at music TOO deeply and onto another boring looking-at-something-else with too much depth *sigh*.
This is what sucks about Amber and good Jenny, the ex roommate. We lived together for a year and a half. We were never truly mad at one another, which is an accomplishment. I'm sure we were both irritated with one another at certain points. I am a sailor with a fluffy female body and she is a genius/workaholic/everything else good. She is also self-absorbed, and so am I. Living together was good for a friendship because we respected each others' spaces, but then could talk all night for hours and hours and absorb one another in our own self-absorption *laugh*.
Since we were living in a double, when she decided to move out (or said she was putting her name on the list) I was cool with it. She wanted me to get on the list for the hall with single dorms along with her. However, I am (again) but a lowly psychic and I have a car payment to make, a mom to help, and hopefully a kickass trip to take with my boyfriend over the summer. So I told her tha we could get on for next fall semester together, and she was cool with that.
A couple weeks before school ended for last fall semester, she promptly reminded me (when she remembered) that she was on the single dorm waiting list, and could get in next semester. I told her that was cool with me ... that I would be a little bummed out and hurt by it, but she had to do what she had to do. I told her my big issue was "not having ghetto bitch again", and the conversation actually didn't get too much farther than that. She kept saying she knew she'd never get in because she was so far from the top of the list. All the while I'm telling her I know she will, and going, "yeah, right."
She called me over Christmas Break to let me know that she'd gotten a single, and was moving out. I told her I was cool with it, and would help if she needed it. Then she told me she was going to come down as early as possible and get all her stuff out, move into the new dorm quickly (first thing in the morning, after a three-hour drive,) and how happy and excited she was ... though she wished we could live right-next door to each other in the single room.
When I hung up the phone, I knew right away I was being a brat. I knew this was coming ... it just seemed like she was so anxious to get the fuck away from me (is it that self-consciousness and paranoia kicking in again?) I know, stop bitching, Amber.
I guess it also reminded me that I can't afford a single and am a poor motherfucker. This is an affirmation I'd rather not deal with. I had to sit down and admit to myself that she was a wonderful friend, but I knew deep-down that she was going to do a total hermit-crab and I was going to find other friends, and nothing would be the same. I had to accept the fact that it wasn't her fault, that if I get stuck with Ghetto Bitch from Hell as a roommate (like my freshman year) that it isn't anyone's fault. I had to sit down and analyze all the things that had driven me crazy about her during our stay together. I realized there were a lot more things than I had previously thought. This actually caused me to think there are certainly a hundred million things about me that drove her up the wall, and there goes that she-wants-to-get-the-hell-away from me again. Errr. This all snowballed, and I didn't talk to her for the rest of the break. I actually have barely talked to her since. It seems like the only time we talk is to establish that we have different opinions on something, that she doesn't need help and I need all her help, and all this other bullshit I know I'm making up in my head that isn't true.
I haven't gotten a roommate yet, and living alone is good. I'm back to the old Amber... clothes strewn around everywhere, mess mess mess, not being totally diligent about my work. Rawr. This is a good thing in some ways, but it was also good that Jenny had a nice effect on me. It's below me to type out all the things that characteristically were different about us or pissed me off about her, in case she should ever read this and know the true-blue feelings on the situation (I never told her -- that whole hurting friends thing.)
It's just that losing friends or watching them creep away from you a little bit sucks ASS. It's happening to me a lot lately. With Anna (my best friend,) with Jen. err. Lots of other people, too. Tons I don't care to name. I'm whining rather than meditating on it, and that's a negative thing, I know.
Van Morrison wrote a song called "Madame George", on Astral Weeks and the Bang Masters LP's. It's about going back to visit old friends, and seeing that boyhood is over, people change and these people you hung out with for years are nothing more than nostalgia. Ouch. I guess I always knew I would suffer from Madame George syndrome. I just had no idea it'd be so fucking LONELY, that there'd be so much to bitch about when it happened. It's like the Wonder Years gone horribly, terribly wrong.
I guess the day's commencement reminded me of that situation in a way that fueled the rest of today into being shitty. I had a clarinet lesson at eleven that went relatively well, but lack of sleep caused me to not focus worth a fuck, which affected things. I thought that things were returning to normal during and after Spanish class. I fond out my teacher is having a constant cancer scare. She is a beautiful little dark-haired Cosa Rican (?) woman and I'd like to grab her and squeeze her whole body and thank her for teaching me how to speak Spanish in my own redneck dialect *giggle*. Why do all the fucking good people come down with serious diseases?
After that I had guitar studio class. I premiered my Chavez piece. I thought i fucked up hardcore, but Bill says it was ok and I think he wouldn't lie to me. Or at least I hope so.
After that, African Dance and Drum. I tranced for a minute, then my face started turning all red (I fucking HATE THAT!) and I was fucking up moves. I literally got called out by the instructor (ERRR!) Damn uncoordinated palm-tree-swaying me. I should be tortured to death. Grrr.
However, after that I jammed out on guitar with my friends and it was cool. Things weren't too bad, even during dinner when Tres thought he would be as annoying as usual. Just his presence makes me want to barf all over people like the story the fat kid told in Goonies... goddammit.
Later on that night, Larissa, Jenny and I walked across town to Bill's for the hell of it. On the way I found my drummer Tom's house, and accidentally pulled his doorknob off his door. MERCURY RETROGRADE ... DIE! I felt like a total piece of horseshit, but Tom's roommate Hedgehog assured me it happens all the time. Then Jenny and Larissa assured me I was being too much of a self-conscious freak again, and we moved on.
While walking across the courthouse lawn, some stupid skinny white asshole with an upside-down visor leaned out of his car window and yelled "JENNY JONES!" while we were crossing the road. I turned around and he said, "JENNY JONES CAN HELP YOUR ASS!" We don't know who he was talking about... could have been all of us. It sucked. Then we realized he had said Jenny Jones instead of Jenny Craig, and giggled madly. Being made over from Geek to Chic will help my ass. RAWR! Haha. Stupid motherfucker.
We don't know who he was talking to. I hope he wrecks his fucking car haha! There. I said it and I feel much better *grinning*. Now I'll wreck mine tomorrow. Damn you Mercury Retrograde! Anyways ... I guess it just made me feel like a dork, like in elementary school. Nobody wanted to hang out with me. I was a smart kid, but not a total genius. I had bifocals at age eight. I sucked. But at least my few dork friends were enough to make me feel better about myself, haha. I hate that fucking feeling...
Yeah, and also the one where you're overweight with college-girl butt, and you know your butt is bigger than it should be, as well as the rest of your body. Even so, it won't come off in a day and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it. GRRR! And you're not fat, but not skinny. You're in between. Not unhealthy enough for inspiration or divine intervention or a life-change, but not near anorexic enough to be totally healthy or totally perfect or totally right.
Riiighht....
I miss my boyfriend
Tomorrow it's supposed to rain and snow, and shit is supposed to fall from the sky. A conflicting weather report says 74 degrees, partly cloudy outside. PLEASE WORK FOR ME RETROGRADE! I am such a car wuss...
At Late Night tonight, I sat down with Mike (old friend) and talked to him for ungodly amounts of time about the saga that goes on at the apartment (short example there, from Laurie.) Mike began bitching about how people that sell drugs to certain people want to use the drugs with them, and how that's "against the rules of drug culture."
I guess I made it a little too obvious that this was the point at which I was about to stop listening. I stopped listening, alright. Jesus Christ. What is the deal with 'drug culture'? Drug addicts or heavy drug users are the stupidest fucking people I know. Always talking about how other people use too many drugs and can't get their rent paid on time or get to class. Of course, they're discussing this over a pipe. God I would like to smack some sense into these people.
Not that I haven't done it in my day. You know the deal. It's just that I frown greatly upon the term 'drug culture', and people that are a part of it or find it exciting. "Yeah, I don't do drugs but I smoke pot." You fucking idiot. Caffeine is a drug. Adrenaline can be a drug. Life, anything is a drug. Why is it so difficult to comprehend that it doesn't enhance you? Putting something into your body to manipulate it into feeling good when there's NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU or you're just depressed is utter bullshit. Go get some fucking Zoloft and do it the legal way, you idiots. And if you're going to do it ... 'moderation' is the key word! Janis Joplin is not glamorous now. She's rotting away in a stone cold grave. So is Hendrix, Morrison... so many talented people. For what? Because they couldn't deal with success. God, please throttle me and get it over with.
As you can see, I really needed to get that off my chest. Drugs are a part of pop culture, which is vomitous enough. I can just see N*SYNC in the back hitting a bong before every show. Hold on... more like a crackpipe.
Sorry for being so whiny/bitchy. Do me a favor and make up some more interesting natural phenomenon to blame it all on for me
JENNY JONES CAN HELP YOUR ASS!
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