Today, I have my evaluation conference with my professor. In non-Evergreen terms, this is sort of like getting a report card, only you have to show up in person. I was SUPPOSED to have my conference last Thursday. But alas, I was too stoned.
I called my teacher at her house and told her that I'd been too stoned to attend the original appointment.
She took it remarkably well. I love Evergreen. You can't shock anybody.
Jake walked me to the bus-stop to go to my conference. I'm perfectly capable of walking to the bus stop myself, which Jake damn well knows, but the company was nice. On the way, we very nearly had an argument (I started it) about a kitty, I very nearly gave Jake a heart attack by standing in the middle of a narrow bridge and yelling "whee!" down at the freeway below, and Jake merrily greeted a slacker-kid whose pants were around his knees but who said he was off to apply for a job.
Jake's going to be a good dad. I think he's more sane than me. Probably a lot nicer, too.
I've only been back to my apartment building once since the unfortunate cookie incident.
When I moved into that place, I LOVED it. All summer, it was clean, and smelled fresh, and was breezy and sunny and warm. I could sit in my apartment, staring at the wall and listening to NPR, and I'd still be happy and un-bored.
When all the college kids -- and "sorta-college kids," who are the real assholes of the building -- moved in, everything changed. The parties kept me up at night sometimes. Sometimes, there would be a high-pitched scream in the courtyard, and pounding footsteps. Everything changed, and everything sucks. More now than ever. If I was a vindictive bitch (and sometimes I am, just not as I'm typing this), I'd sue the place.
As of now, two of my neighbors (and former friends, I suppose), have stopped speaking to me completely. Why? Because I wouldn't have an abortion. They even offered me a wire coat hanger and promised to call 911 if anything went wrong. How neighborly. Additionally, parties have been keeping me awake at night, and fights have been waking me up in the wee hours of the morning. An alleged cop-killer was arrested a couple of weeks ago and his apartment, on the first floor, was cleaned out by a herd of six police officers. The building manager lied about it, and I found out about the cop-killer from the freaking school paper. And lest anybody forget, one of my beloved neighbors freaking POISONED me...
I'm paying WAY too much rent money for this sort of shit to be going on.
Oh yes, and tenants are no longer allowed in the recreation room unless they're friends with the manager's son. No lie; I wanted a soda from the vending machine one day, and some people kicked me out of the rec room before I even made it to the soda machine. They said they were friends with the manager and her son, so they were the only ones allowed in the room (which, up until now, has been common space). Most of the time now, it's locked and nobody's allowed in. Why? Because, "you're a theft risk." Seriously. Me. Me, stealing a 600-pound television set? Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.
Fuck this shit.
I think I'm going to throw a screaming fit and break my lease.
I have to go to my evaluation now.
~Helena*