Tags
argh, idiot roommates, landlord issues, school, that time I had shitty roommates, writing exercise, You can't make this stuff up
I have a message from my friend Gnome who is having difficulties with her boy, and I’m frustrated cuz she’s not online for me to talk to. I don’t like it when my friends are distressed, because then I worry about them for the rest of the day, or at least until they can tell me I don’t need to. Read: Convince me that I don’t need to. I try to avoid arguments on the main though, because confrontation sucks.
I got a letter from my mother today too. She’s analyzing again. She really likes to try and figure out why people do the things they do. For instance, my former landlord has decided to take my former room mate and best friend to arbitration for about 1700 bucks. Why? A number of silly and unfounded things. (I doubt my dwarf bunny could pee enough to ruin the entirety of the carpet even if he had peed on it!) On top of it all, she’s taken to harassing poor Amber at work. If she’d been reasonable about the whole thing there never would have been a problem. Anyway, my mom’s trying to figure the woman out and they’ve never met. Whatever her problem is, it has little to do with Amber and I in the long run, it seems she did something similar to the last tenants she had.
I have another 5 hours or so until my next class, so I think I will do something downtown. John wants to visit his mom, so perhaps I will meet her today. That’s always the strangest part in a relationship. Meeting the parents. She can’t be all that bad, to have produced a son like John. Granted, he’s absorbed in a silly video game at the moment, but then I’m absorbed with blogging. We all have our faults!
I got my play workshopped yesterday, and I discovered that I had written something entirely different than I had set out to do. So now comes the torture of rewriting. The insanity of the writers life. Methinks though that the playwright’s life is less for me than that of the novelist or poet. The whole hoop-jumping thing one has to do to make it work on stage aggravates me.
Sigh.
My cat has fallen asleep on my lap again. She’s still pretty little, so my leg doesn’t fall asleep like it did when I had my grandma’s cat, Ebony, fall asleep on my. He was a big sucker that one. This little one though, she might get big, it’s hard to tell with runts. She’s a tortie named Cinder. John and I fell in love with her when she was in the pet shop window in the mall where I work. Spoiled little brat she is, but she seems to get on with the bunny ok.
Anyway, the sun is shining and I am going to pry John’s ass off the couch and we are going to go for a walk before it gets too late. Yes, I believe we are.
Hrm, I have a craving for jalapeno poppers…