Into things, that is. Maybe I bitch too much about my life and how it’s being lived around me. Well, if I didn’t talk about my life, I would most likely be less interesting than I am now. Imagine that. Me. LESS interesting. Wow. Hard to imagine.
Anywhoo. I found out tonight that I’m not the kind of person that my friends would want even to have a drink with. Yup. Apparently I’m not the kind of person who could just drink and chill out. No, apparently I’m the kind of person who would want to talk about “things” when I drink.
You know what? I haven’t had a conversation with ANYONE in this house since we moved in. In fact, every time I’m home, people are gone. Every time I’m away, people are at home. I’m not saying people are trying to avoid me. Its just that I like hanging out with the people I live with and I never do. I haven’t even had a decent conversation with my best friend. I’m not saying we have to talk about drama shit or any of that (though I know there is a lot of that on his mind), but, a decent mind-exercising conversation would be nice. Apparently it has something to do with how he thinks I perceive his manhood or that he’s a failure or some shit. I don’t know, its all fucked up and funny. I’ve noticed that he has become much more of a douchebag and an asshole since some shit happened. Its fine if you are trying to be funny once and a while, but holy crap cracker, sometimes people actually like being around a decent human being once and a damn while. I’m really starting to get pissed off about it. It really sucks living with a person who doesn’t give a shit about you or insults you and everyone around you constantly.
Which brings me to another topic. I’ve noticed that there is an awful lot of humor-at-expense going on around here. Mostly directed at Lexy. Thursday night was really bad. I was getting upset about it, it was so bad. Apparently it was “make fun of Lexy” night all night until people decided they had better places to be. That really makes for a comfortable living environment. “Let me make fun of you until I decide I’m tired of being around you.” “It’s so funny that something grotesquely embarrassing happened to you, even though it’s really mean.” No “I’m sorry that happened to you.” No “those people were so mean.” Nothing like that. Only a, “tell everyone else what happened to you that was so funny.” I don’t think it was funny. I think it was embarrassing and of low character; however, apparently terrible things happening to people are funny. That makes me think that maybe *eating cheese is funny*. Maybe I’ll start making jokes about it. That’d be great. I mean, it’s a terrible thing that’s happening to the two of you, so it must be fucking funny, right? I don’t want to live in that kind of house and hopefully you don’t either.
It really hasn’t been all that great living here. I mean, it has had its fun times, but overall, it’s been draining. I can’t hang out with my friends because they are either all not here or being a complete dick. There is only so much TV and video games can do for me to keep me occupied. I can’t rightly go out and make new friends because when I try that, it becomes so painfully obvious how much people don’t really like me. Either that or they don’t get my jokes. I tried to be funny and open and spriteful at a presentation I gave in a class and the reaction was one of bored crickets. I’ve moved past my belief that there is some sort of conspiracy. That was bogus. I think I’ve settled on the idea that I’ve moved in with the wrong type of people. People who, when I am removed, get along and have fun. Now, when you add me back in, I become this monster that one must please in order for there to fun of any kind or the fun all happens in secret. That isn’t exactly true, but the feeling is there.
So, remember. When I’m watching TV or playing a video game, usually its because I have nothing better to do. I have no place to go. I have no people to see. I live with the only friends that I have ready access to (JC friends are not considered readily accessible) and they’re usually not here to hang out with. Then at the end of the day when Lexy asks me to go do something with her, I am so depressed from a day of doing nothing with nobody, that I just can’t see the point in doing anything. It isn’t anyone else’s fault for that, I know. Only I am responsible for how I feel, but sometimes (regardless of what the professor of my Interpersonal Comm class says) you can’t help but feel how you feel.
There you go. Another entry where I bitch about what its like to live in this house.