Some drama I want to avoid.

Geez I am sorry about the last entry, Blog! It could only be described as bland, boring and purposeless. It's just so hard to think straight over here. I can't get into a groove. That sounds gross.

Why am I typing this?

Yesterday night HL had a bunch of her annoying (I can only assume) teenager friends over to (I can only assume) do a bunch of coke, while drinking Sparks at the same time (guaranteed heart attack formula). I could hear them in the kitchen while I read the Reader topless in my bedroom before bed. The Reader had a thing about local screenprinters, the printing "scene", and their work that was pretty good and cool. It ended up making me feel a bit depressed, as I looked at the screen sitting against my wall. I want to use it, but have no facilities. Well, I guess I could get it together at home, but it seems like the most annoying hassle ever. Everything would be dirty and the sink would be perpetually clogged with ink. All of my wet prints would get cat hair all over them. Then I'd have to buy a table and clamps and a light and more. It would make a lot of sense to go somewhere to screenprint, but I feel defeated already, because that requires being social enough to seek that out, like these people, who are productive enough to be featured in the Reader and who apparently have "studios" and "friends". I sat on the bed feeling pathetic. Accepting that I am just too socially inept to change my position in life, I figured I might as well accept it, and stick to things where I don't need facilities or other people, and I just lied there feeling helpless and whiny for a second, comparing myself to others. BUT(!) before it got TOO far, I turned it into RAGE and directed it towards HL!!!

See, we kicked out the crazy old roommate with a note, and I haven't had the balls or the patience or the desire, really, to face her in reality. Instead, I am working through this conflict the best and most fun way I can, which is in my head. I imagine her reading the note. She goes through the stages of denial, anger, depression, and acceptance. In my mind, her reaction is full of hurt and anger and immaturity and cluelessness about the reasons as to why, and this is so much more preferable than if we actually talked about it as "adults". This way, I am allowed to hate her comfortably from a distance. I don't run the risk of seeing her blotchy face and developing these wimpy empathic feelings and then start being nice to her by accident. I don't want to end up saying something like "Sorry we had to do this." I am not sorry. I'm GLAD she had obnoxious people over last night and I could hear them until 6am having (what I assume is) contrived conversations, all speaking and acting like characters in a book or movie, romanticizing self-destructive drug usage, in the annoying way. (the let's watch "Requiem For A Dream" way (actually, she has watched that more than once since moving in, I think)) It makes it much easier for me. We've been hiding in our bedrooms with the doors locked. Mark is out of town and I plan to go hide out there some, hang out with Smiles Davis and Shirley, maybe clean out the Crock Pot that's been molding in the fridge for months. I should take Ludwig with me.