I Know I Was Asking For It

Back in December I was looking for a new roommate. A seemingly normal guy rented the room in January. He seemed like such a sweet guy… who knew he would turn out to be dumb as a post! I referred to him as the kid because he always seemed so young even though he was 25.

A few things should have tipped me off:
- He slept till 4:00 pm, got up, sat in front of MY TV until about midnight at which point he would go out, often bringing guests home around 3:00 am and chat loudly in the living room until 5:00 am.
- He would ask the most bizarre questions. One day he asked me if a box in my kitchen (which contained a bottle of wine) was an urn with a dead person’s ashes in it.
- Every day he would use my computer without asking me and thought I didn’t know. Since he was obviously Mac illiterate he always left the web browser open without realizing it. Plus, he didn’t know how to turn the computer off.
- About a week after he moved in he told me he was giving his notice. Of course, I freaked and asked him why. He told me he got fired from his job and was too embarrassed to live here. I asked him if he couldn’t afford to live here or if it was just an issue of pride. He told me it was pride so I gave him a little pep talk about not running away from your fears, owning up to your responsibilities, etc. He thanked me and said he was glad I was so understanding and was happy to stay. A week later he got a new job.
- Then, on January 31 I come home to find a letter addressed to me. It was from the kid and essentially said: “Can’t afford to live here. To embarrassed to tell you in person so I moved out”. I was livid! Our agreement was to give me one month’s notice so he technically owed me for the month of February. An hour or so later he came back. Apparently, when his Mom found out that he had left without facing me, she made him come back and apologise. He told me he would pay me the money he owed me in two weeks as he was getting paid then.

Luckily I found a new roommate the very next day and all is well. I was about to send him an email saying, don’t worry about the money, I’ve found someone to rent the room, but decided I would wait the two weeks and let him sweat it out a bit. The kid needs to learn that he can’t just walk away from his responsibilities.

Two weeks come and go and still no call or email so I decide to send him an email requesting my money. He responds back saying he doesn’t have any money, as he will only get paid on March 7. He doesn’t even have money for food and has been going to the local food bank. The excuse is total bullshit! I believe that he doesn’t have money to spare to pay me, but there is no way his mother or two sisters (whom I’ve met) would let him go hungry. I decide to wait the two weeks until he supposedly gets paid.

Yesterday his cell phone bill arrived at my house and I realized March 7 had passed. I figured I’d let him know his bill was here and take the opportunity to request my money. I know, I know, I was clearly asking for it, but I couldn’t resist. He responds immediately saying he doesn’t know where I can forward the mail since he’s living at a homeless shelter, and, of course, he has no money. Hmmm… who knew homeless shelters were now equipped with high-speed Internet!! Wow! This pisses me off to no end. It’s not the fact that he doesn’t have my money, it’s the fact that he doesn’t own up to his responsibilities. He could have easily said, Look, I’m really sorry but I just can’t afford to pay you right now. Is there anyway we can make some sort of arrangement. I would have totally let him off the hook! It’s the fact that he’s making up these bullshit stories about being in a homeless shelter. Of course I couldn’t resist responding and telling him exactly how I felt about his attempt at a self-pitying excuse. The thing that irks me the most is that I had seen my brother struggling financially… and I mean TRULY struggling and not once did he go to a food bank. This kid has no idea what it would be like to actually have to go to a food bank or shelter and to use this excuse just makes me sick.

He responds by telling me I’m crazy and that he actually only went to the shelter once or twice between places. He also advises me that he will be blocking my email. He forgot that I have his phone number and can clearly see him posting on facebook all the time, but I will stop harassing him… only for my own sanity.

The worst part is, unless my current roommates decide to stay here another 2.5 years, my chances of having at least one more idiot living under my roof are pretty high. Ugh.

I Feel so Panicky

Today was my first day back to school post March break. My intention for the time off was to work at the restaurant and to study. I worked one day and didn’t even crack open a book. Now I feel guilty and panicky. I realise I should never have spent the entire week doing nothing, but at the same time I couldn’t bring myself to do anything! I have a physics exam this week and every time I try to study I go into a semi-panic attack. Ugh.

I think realising I only had a little over a month left to prove myself and get into the program is taking it’s toll on me. :-(



PS: I hate that blogger automatically corrects my s to z in realize (realise). Grrr. Stupid American English!

The Time-Space Continuum

I just looked at my calendar and realized I only have 5 weeks of classes left and then it’s time for finals. Holy crap!! If I remove today, Good Friday and Easter Monday it means I only have 22 days of school left. Gah! This boggles my mind and is making me a little anxious.

Isn’t it weird how time seems to speed-up, as you get older? I guess it’s because when you are 2 years old, 1 year is half your life, but when you are 30 years old, one year is only 1/30 of your life. It’s also bizarre how periods of time seem shorter as you get older. When I was 10 and my sister was 20 I was half her age. But now that I’m 32 and she’s (soon to be) 42, I’m almost 3/4 her age. One day, when I’m 90 and she’s 100 I’ll be 9/10 her age… it’s almost like I’m catching up to her. :-)

Happy Leap Day!

2008 is a leap year which means it has 1 extra day tacked on to the end of February. I had always assumed leap year was every four years, but it seems it’s not that simple. A leap year is one that can be divided by 4, but not divided by 100 unless in can be divided by 400. Confused yet? It basically means that 1800, 1900 and 2100 are NOT leap years, but 2000 and 2400 are leap years.

Leap Year has been the traditional time that women can propose marriage. Obviously these rules don’t really apply to modern day courtship, but when the rules were stricter, women were only allowed to pop the question on one day every four years. That day was February 29th. Apparently this tradition was started in 5th century Ireland when St. Bridget complained to St. Patrick about women having to wait so long for men to get off their ass and propose! According to legend, St. Patrick said the yearning females could propose on this one day in February during the leap year.

Maybe this is an omen. Maybe today is the day where I don’t need to wait for the universe to get off its lazy ass and offer me what I want… maybe it’s the one day that I can tell the universe what I want and it has no choice but to give it to me. Hmmmm… such prospect for the day.

So what are you going to do with your extra day?

Even my Hair Hurts

You know when you feel all feverish and your skin hurts and you could even go as far as saying your hair hurts? That’s me today. I’m home sick from work with a crazy cold. The timing couldn’t be worse as I have a major math exam on Monday.

When I called in sick my boss was none too happy. I can barely speak so it was pretty obvious I wasn’t faking it. He told me he would “let it slide” for today but that tomorrow I had no choice but to go in. Another waitress was in a car accident so he is running short. Apparently car accident trumps killer cold.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I would want a sickly waitress delivery MY food. But maybe I’m just weird.

One Effed-Up Cookie

So here’s the thing. Back in December, early January I was really feeling the stress of school, work and finances. The stress was coming out through obsessing over my house and having everything in its place. Weird; I know. Anyway, I decided to tap into some free resources at University so I could figure out how to manage this ever-growing stress. I decided to go see a counselor to help me figure out how to better manage my time. The interesting thing about counselors is sometimes they know just the right questions to ask. Sometimes you don’t even realise something bigger is wrong until someone asks the right question. This is what happened when I went to see a counselor at University.

What started out as a few meetings on stress management has turned into a major self-evaluation. Lately, I’ve been asking myself some serious questions about my obsession with having things just so. Yeah, I’m a perfectionist, but my standards are bizarre. It’s not like I seek perfection in everything and it’s not like my idea of “perfection” is always the same. For instance, perfection when it comes to my home means having a clean kitchen… but it’s ok if my room is messy. Perfection when it comes to school means getting an A in nutrition but only getting a passing grade in physics. It’s all so irrational. Then there are the lifetime goals. For the last four years I’ve tried to convince myself that if I don’t get married it’s ok… but yesterday I finally admitted it: If I don’t get married and have kids, I’m a failure. This is truly how I feel. It’s the ultimate failure in my eyes. Now these standards don’t apply to everyone – just to me. If you’re reading this and unmarried don’t freak out! I don’t judge others… I only take pleasure in judging myself it seems. *Sigh*

I’ve also realised that I’m not over my relationship with Mike. This pisses me off because it’s been four freakin’ years. It’s not him I’m not over, it’s the fact that I failed, that I haven’t gotten over. Even though I agree that it was the best decision ever, even though I know that we weren’t meant to be, even though I admit that neither one of us was happy – I still failed. I just don’t know how to let go of the guilt and forgive myself. I mean, I’m clearly happier without him. He is likely happier without me… then why do I still feel guilty?

I also realise that’ I’m never going to meet Mr. Right until I get passed this. It’s like my aura screams out: she’s got issues! Keep moving Dude.

In addition I’ve become conscious of my tendency to set irrational goals I must attain. When I first started seeing Mike I automatically decided I was going to marry him and that was it. For the almost 8 years we were together I never doubted myself because that was the goal I had chosen… anything else would be failure. Who makes these irrational decisions at 20? When I make a decision I don’t go back on it. I always assumed I didn’t’ go back on decisions because they were always the right decisions… but maybe it has nothing to do with being right or wrong but with failing or passing. Going back on a decision means failing… pushing through with the decision means passing. I hate how everything is always so black and white with me. Why can’t I see life in shades of gray?

So all of this is making me worry a little about my career decision. I mean, I still feel confident about my choice… but what if this confidence is false? What if it’s just another of my “decisions” that I can’t go back on?

You see why I’m still single? You see why I’m a 30-something freshman? It’s cause everything goes all blurry in my brain and I can’t distinguish between what Changa truly wants and want Changa thinks society wants from her.

The irony of all this is the new direction my blog has taken. I’m such a goof! My blog says I am going against societal norms… societal norms? Bullshit. I’m the one putting pressure on myself. I mean, here I am screaming I am Changa hear me roar! I am a strong, independent woman and I don’t need a man – rah, rah, rah. When the truth is, I’m desperately hoping some prince will swoop in and save me.

So yeah, baby’s got issues.

Bang your Head Against the Wall Boring

Oh. My. God. My French class makes me want to vomit. I’ve never seen anything as useless and as stupid as this class. I can’t believe I pay for this mediocrity. Nor can I believe that it is a requirement for ANY degree at U de M. Gah!

The course consists of two 75 minutes classes a week. I can’t tell you a single thing I’ve learnt so far this year. The first class the teacher spent the entire 75 minutes explaining the syllabus. This is a writing class. All we do is write essays – there isn’t much to explain. In another class, she spent 75 minutes answering questions on what is considered repetition; i.e. both the terms I run and I ran are considered repetitions. Yes. Even if the verbs are in different tenses it is considered a repetition. I don’t know if she simply doesn’t know how to teach or if it’s the fact that incredibly dim-witted and self-centered students surround her, but something clearly isn’t working.

Today she spent 75 minutes deciding on an alternative date for an exam. 75 freakin’ minutes. She would suggest a date and some idiot student would cry out, “but I have another exam that day” so she would suggest another date and yet another student would call out that they have another exam that day... or that they have to work the night before and won’t have time to prepare… or that they have band practice right before and might not be able to make to the class. Then she freaks out because nobody can agree on a date. Gah! You’re the freakin’ teacher lady! Just tell them that’s the exam date and to shut the fuck up. By this time I’m fuming at the complete waste of time this class has become so I suggest she write the three possible dates on the blackboard, take a vote and just stick with the majority. She says it’s a good idea, but instead of proceeding with this “good idea” she keeps yelling out dates and round and round we go.



Finally, at the end of the “class” she gives us the first essays she’s graded. I’m floored by my score: 64%. I want to scream when I see nimrod next to me got a 70% and idiot on the other side got a 74%. Scoring is divided into 2 parts: 50% is on the content, idea, style, etc., while 50% is on grammar. I got 50/50 for content and 14/50 for grammar. I am completely pissed off at myself. I spent so much time working on the content that I ran out of time and hastily rewrote the text without a second to review it. I had 9 errors at 4 points an error. Ugh. I'm a slave to spell check - what else can I say.

I had no other choice but to head immediately home and write this rant. Grrrr.