The Other One

There’s no home for you here girl go-way, there’s no home for you here.

I’ve been listening to the white stripes a lot lately.

First impressions are only important if it is all you get, in a situation where you are going to be forced to get to know someone, I find them to be rather unimportant. That being said, things did not really get off on the left foot, and any step in the wrong direction means you’ll be back tracking. So firstly and foremost, the thing you must know is my other room mate is a female. I guess I should have prepared for the worst given Tyler’s taste in women (ooo burn) but I had been hopeful.

The idea I had in my mind, and one could even say the reason I moved out here was that I was to be living with Tyler. I guess that I have, and it has been wonderful so far, but. She has the biggest room. She also has a boyfriend who is over here all the time. She slaves after him. She wants to join the army. She reads trashy female porn hidden behind titles like, “To tame the wolf,” “Love in a cold climate,” and “Bittersweet Deception.” She works making lunches for hospitals. She left her home in Ontario to get away from her family and to be with her now boyfriend who she met while playing counter strike online... I guess I cannot hold that one too strongly against her.

I have been trying to be nice, but the razor on my tongue is letting blood spill down my throat. I have been trying to get to like her. I am hoping that I am mistaken in judging her on her rabid consumption of coke-a-cola and junk foods. On her high heals and blond highlights. On her country music and horrible taste in movies.

Worstly, worser, worst of it all, and what is making it harder than hard to stand and to bare is how she so badly wants to be my friend. This is a person who in any normal arrangement would get so far as hello, my name a nodding blank stare as she mentions hers which I would promptly forget. I have certain criteria that must be met, in at least a few places before I consider some one as a peer. I do think I am better than other people, I am a class warrior, I do think listening to CBC makes you a better person than some one who does not. These are things I have come to accept about myself. What the hell else am I going to judge people on! I’ll admit right now that I have written off being friends with people based wholly on their taste in music, their dress, their vernacular, their politics, or simply the way they said hello.

She is the kind of girl I would have wanted to date back in grade eight, before I knew better. The kind of girl who you wonder how she got stuck with the loser boyfriend, until you get to know her and end up with nothing but pitty for them both. He parades her around the other geeks like a golden protractor. She does everything he asks.

Writing this all out was supposed to help me over come my bitterness, but it seems to have just focused it with clear bullet point arguments ready to be cross-referenced.

A whole page complaining.

Waking up for breakfast, burning matches, talking grimly, breaking bottles, throwing garbage, drinking soda, looking happy, taking pictures, so completely stupid, just go away.

Uehen