Position of Equilibrium
The A-levels is all over. Completely done and gone. I'm totally, completely free--it's not the first time, but it's enjoyable anyway. The last time I was like this was after the SPM, and at that time I wasn't really all that free because I had loads of stuff to go through.
Not this time. I'm free. So far I've had several people asking me when I'm going down to So Hour or Patience, and so far my answers have always been along the line of maybe or sometime later. Right now I just want to get myself back into order before I slide too far.
I bought a nice 1GB pendrive from Low Duck the other day, and so far I've got several hundred MB of music in it. I would have put MSN Messenger into it, but it wasn't available; and FF3 is yet to be obtained from Chronicles if he hasn't deleted it yet. After all, he's finished it; and only now do I have sufficient time to even get through it.
Well, we'll see. After all, I've got the rest of my life to plan out.
Right now I'm just killing time, really. I'm waiting for Niche to pack up and disappear out of my life forever. I think he's hoping for the same thing: after all, our relationship (if you can call it that) has degenerated to the point where we treat each other as basically invisible. And our only communication is through angry letters left on each other's desks, detailing each other's shortcomings.
I don't know when this happened, since I never really bothered to nit-pick on him. I should've, though, because it appears that letting him do all the complaining has given him the impression that he is perfect and I'm...well... imperfect.
Not that I ever claimed to be, of course, but he's really getting a little big for his boots. More than a little, maybe. Right now he's just annoying me, although I do find him amusing on occasion.
Let's see if I can get everything straight...
Maybe it began the day I moved in and took over my half of the room. You see, I have never been a particularly tidy person. Quite the opposite, actually. I'd live wash-and-wear if I could, but as it is I usually have a week's worth of laundry hanging around somewhere so I don't have to fold it. The lack of space in the room means that the clothes just get dumped on the bed or chair depending on where I'm sitting.
The other thing is that my desk is of the ultra-cluttered sort. I've never been quite able to keep it properly sorted out for more than a few days without a great deal of effort--and Niche feels very strongly that I'm supposed to exert that effort for the sake of keeping him happy.
Niche, you see, is a neatness freak in the ultimate sense of the word. And when he sees something he doesn't like, he nags. He nags and nags and nags and frankly, I've had quite enough of having my many faults pointed out 24/7. (He appears to have unlimited saliva and breath.) I acknowledge I have faults. But the very idea that he knows more about me than I do reeks of cheek.
Well, we're both Cholerics. Both of us will defend to the death the correctness of our own opinion, and both of us insist on improving the other person. So far neither of us had succeeded in the least. I'm still messy and lazy and insist on the right to capture bugs and obtain their carcasses and occasionally use his stuff without asking. He's still uptight and workaholic and selfish and holier-than-thou and refuses to properly feed his hamsters and spells badly and thinks he's the best thing since fire was discovered.
Really, that pretty much encapsulates our entire situation. To say he utterly loathes my mess is like saying water is wet and fire is warm--or like saying I utterly loathe his attitude. (Note that we both think the other has an attitude problem. Of course, I'm correct.)
So now we've been exchanging little letters in which he tells me how much he hates me and how he deplores the way I live, and in which I defend myself and return the attacks, while laughing at him. It appears he hates me enough, in any case, to assume I hate him too; and to go around asking people to hate me too.
It doesn't affect me. I've never been the social sort, so it really isn't very difficult to avoid the people he says hate me too. *shrug* And besides, the truth will out eventually. If it takes this to preserve a little bit of peace, then it's a small price. In any case I don't think he's playing fair by dragging other people into the equation. My grudge is against him, not the entire hostel (which he says will be signing an eviction notice against me any day now), and dragging everybody he knows into the matter isn't above board.
Especially since one of his teachers is apparently involved now. (And I've never even heard of her existence!)
Never mind. He doesn't matter to me, and after today I probably won't ever see him again. (Thank God for that.) Perhaps he'll have a better life next year with whoever replaces me, but if I'm lucky he'll get a homicidal maniac who can't take criticism, upon which Niche will be forced to move out, acquire a couple megatonnes of tact, or die. He's just been lucky that my temper has finally come more or less under my control, because... well, I suppose I'm lucky too, because it really wouldn't be good on my resume to have sent a roommate home crying and bleeding, would it? I've observed him long enough to know how to drive him mad.
After all, it seems I've done it even without trying.
I have returned to my position of social equilibrium: the one where social life equals more or less zero. I am more or less cut off from my classmates (I've got to remember to change all their stata from classmate to ex-classmate); the hostellites will be vanishing soon for their holidays (which, I think, is a good thing for myself--more peace), and especially Niche will be as good as dead to me.
Still, I'm going to be maybe a bit lonely; but I've survived so long as I am that one more month or two makes hardly any difference. And now, besides, I can finally start work on a novella I've been thinking of for awhile: it's a kind of Bleach fanfic-thingy. Call me an otaku and colour me anime!
So it's going to be me, my pendrive, and the computer for a good long time to come. Well, I hope I'm going to enjoy myself. I certainly plan to, at any rate. As soon as I get everything I want onto my pendrive, that is.
Not this time. I'm free. So far I've had several people asking me when I'm going down to So Hour or Patience, and so far my answers have always been along the line of maybe or sometime later. Right now I just want to get myself back into order before I slide too far.
I bought a nice 1GB pendrive from Low Duck the other day, and so far I've got several hundred MB of music in it. I would have put MSN Messenger into it, but it wasn't available; and FF3 is yet to be obtained from Chronicles if he hasn't deleted it yet. After all, he's finished it; and only now do I have sufficient time to even get through it.
Well, we'll see. After all, I've got the rest of my life to plan out.
Right now I'm just killing time, really. I'm waiting for Niche to pack up and disappear out of my life forever. I think he's hoping for the same thing: after all, our relationship (if you can call it that) has degenerated to the point where we treat each other as basically invisible. And our only communication is through angry letters left on each other's desks, detailing each other's shortcomings.
I don't know when this happened, since I never really bothered to nit-pick on him. I should've, though, because it appears that letting him do all the complaining has given him the impression that he is perfect and I'm...well... imperfect.
Not that I ever claimed to be, of course, but he's really getting a little big for his boots. More than a little, maybe. Right now he's just annoying me, although I do find him amusing on occasion.
Let's see if I can get everything straight...
Maybe it began the day I moved in and took over my half of the room. You see, I have never been a particularly tidy person. Quite the opposite, actually. I'd live wash-and-wear if I could, but as it is I usually have a week's worth of laundry hanging around somewhere so I don't have to fold it. The lack of space in the room means that the clothes just get dumped on the bed or chair depending on where I'm sitting.
The other thing is that my desk is of the ultra-cluttered sort. I've never been quite able to keep it properly sorted out for more than a few days without a great deal of effort--and Niche feels very strongly that I'm supposed to exert that effort for the sake of keeping him happy.
Niche, you see, is a neatness freak in the ultimate sense of the word. And when he sees something he doesn't like, he nags. He nags and nags and nags and frankly, I've had quite enough of having my many faults pointed out 24/7. (He appears to have unlimited saliva and breath.) I acknowledge I have faults. But the very idea that he knows more about me than I do reeks of cheek.
Well, we're both Cholerics. Both of us will defend to the death the correctness of our own opinion, and both of us insist on improving the other person. So far neither of us had succeeded in the least. I'm still messy and lazy and insist on the right to capture bugs and obtain their carcasses and occasionally use his stuff without asking. He's still uptight and workaholic and selfish and holier-than-thou and refuses to properly feed his hamsters and spells badly and thinks he's the best thing since fire was discovered.
Really, that pretty much encapsulates our entire situation. To say he utterly loathes my mess is like saying water is wet and fire is warm--or like saying I utterly loathe his attitude. (Note that we both think the other has an attitude problem. Of course, I'm correct.)
So now we've been exchanging little letters in which he tells me how much he hates me and how he deplores the way I live, and in which I defend myself and return the attacks, while laughing at him. It appears he hates me enough, in any case, to assume I hate him too; and to go around asking people to hate me too.
It doesn't affect me. I've never been the social sort, so it really isn't very difficult to avoid the people he says hate me too. *shrug* And besides, the truth will out eventually. If it takes this to preserve a little bit of peace, then it's a small price. In any case I don't think he's playing fair by dragging other people into the equation. My grudge is against him, not the entire hostel (which he says will be signing an eviction notice against me any day now), and dragging everybody he knows into the matter isn't above board.
Especially since one of his teachers is apparently involved now. (And I've never even heard of her existence!)
Never mind. He doesn't matter to me, and after today I probably won't ever see him again. (Thank God for that.) Perhaps he'll have a better life next year with whoever replaces me, but if I'm lucky he'll get a homicidal maniac who can't take criticism, upon which Niche will be forced to move out, acquire a couple megatonnes of tact, or die. He's just been lucky that my temper has finally come more or less under my control, because... well, I suppose I'm lucky too, because it really wouldn't be good on my resume to have sent a roommate home crying and bleeding, would it? I've observed him long enough to know how to drive him mad.
After all, it seems I've done it even without trying.
I have returned to my position of social equilibrium: the one where social life equals more or less zero. I am more or less cut off from my classmates (I've got to remember to change all their stata from classmate to ex-classmate); the hostellites will be vanishing soon for their holidays (which, I think, is a good thing for myself--more peace), and especially Niche will be as good as dead to me.
Still, I'm going to be maybe a bit lonely; but I've survived so long as I am that one more month or two makes hardly any difference. And now, besides, I can finally start work on a novella I've been thinking of for awhile: it's a kind of Bleach fanfic-thingy. Call me an otaku and colour me anime!
So it's going to be me, my pendrive, and the computer for a good long time to come. Well, I hope I'm going to enjoy myself. I certainly plan to, at any rate. As soon as I get everything I want onto my pendrive, that is.
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