Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

Maria isn’t here, and her bed is made.
Since she is always home when it’s this late, and she never makes her bed unless she’s going home, it’s safe to assume I most likely won’t see her until next week.

Thank god.

A half hour ago, Maria came into the room to start getting ready.

Of course, I woke, but I did not get up. I sat in my bed and watched through half-closed eyes as she opened and slammed the closet door without going in.
She left the room.
I turned. If I was going to be forced up because of sound, I didn’t want to be forced because of light.
I listened as she went through some bag, possibly a makeup bag, and rattled the contents.
I listened as she moved the bottles on her desk without hearing her use one.
I then listened for a full thirty seconds or more the crinkling of a plastic water bottle.
She was either trying to wake me up, or she just decided to not care that I was sleeping.

Ashley and I realised that Maria never takes showers. Ever.

She doesn’t even take baths.

She washes her hair in the sink. I don’t know if she washes anything else or not.

I just got off the phone with Kurt, the landlord of our nice little shithell apartment.

I had called because of Maria.

Just under a week ago, Maria accidentally broke Ashley’s baking stone, an expensive piece of cookware. An honest mistake made while she was cleaning, and a replacement was to be ordered right away. Maria was directed to the website, where it was assumed she’d order it from. She didn’t do it that night, and she left for the weekend, so we don’t even know if she actually ordered it.
Read the rest of this entry »

Five minutes after she and I were discussing something, she goes on about it again. After about two minutes of listening to her talk rather loudly about the girl in the next room, I say to her, “Okay, we stopped talking about this five minutes ago.”

“There’s not need to be so rude, you brought it up!” (which it did, now seven minutes prior.)

“And we’ve already said all we’re going to say on the matter.”

“It’s not big deal” blah, blah, etc.

*shush noises*

“Oh don’t you shush me, you brought it up.”

“And now I’m trying to END it.”

Grand. Someone just called for Lametria Scott.

“She doesn’t live here anymore.”

Which is true. So no one should be calling her here, ever. Right?

Well, she’s been using my phone without me knowing, as Maria told me a while ago. I really didn’t care, because it very easily could have just been Maria trying to get me to take sides. Now I have a little bit of proof.

Ashley’s already told me that she doesn’t use the phone at all, as she has her own cell phone. Good. Then she won’t mind me taking the phone with me to school. Maria doesn’t use the phone, either, except when she NEEDS to talk to her mother. She’s going to her mother’s house later today, so she won’t be needing the phone.

I said to Ashley a while ago: “Your friends do not live here, they should not be using the phone.” That didn’t mean anything to her other than she has to hide it from me now.

Lametria’s got her own cell phone, she doesn’t need to be using my house-line. She doesn’t even need to be coming to my apartment. I swear, next time she is at the door, wanting to bitch at me about something, I’m just shutting it in her face.

She often feels the need to come and complain about something. Apparently, placing her junk mail (100% third class mail) in front of her mailbox is wrong, and she would “ah-PREE-shate” it if I didn’t do that. She’d also prefer that, instead of telling her friends to stop calling here, I instead pass the messages on to her.

She moved out a month ago, folks. She also agreed to not give out my phone number to her friends, because she had a cell phone.

Then she has the nerve to call my friends ghetto when she can’t even spell it.

It’s funny how, whenever I say something to Maria along the lines of, “You shouldn’t skip school,” or “You shouldn’t waste your money on taxis,” she always says, “Hahha, you sound just like my mother.” Mom’s can’t possibly have good advice, can they now.

She said she was going to bed twelve minutes ago.

She talked for ten. She’s finally turned off the light.

Now she’s muttering to herself VERY LOUDLY. “oh gawd, it’s so hawt” etc.

Maria just came into our room to tell me that she heard Ashely making noises, and assumes she was masturbating. Maria described it first at “choking and gagging noises” so I assumed Ashley was puking. Then Maria said, “No, it was moaning! She was on the phone, too!”
WHO THE FUCK CARES?!

She went on to explain how stupid she felt because, here she was, worried that Ashley might be choking, and she was just “doing her own thing.” Repeat this three times in different ways, and you’ve got the “conversation.” Then she decides to tell me that she doesn’t masturbate anymore.

No sex, no masturbation, no brain. Poor girl.

Somebody wiped my fucking history again.

So she eats a donut without asking. I ask her to not—I wish she’d shut up so I can fucking concentrate on what I’m typing—I ask her to not do it again. She says I’m overreacting, it’s just a donut.

If she’d asked, I’d have no problem. But she took it the moment I left the apartment to go outside with Troy while he smoked a cigarette. We were gone three minutes.

“I took part of the long john, is that all right?”
I sighed, and said, “Just don’t do it again.”

She took half the long john. She broke off half the donut, and left the other half in there. I asked her if she wanted to finish it, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. She says no, she’s stuffed.

Then she asks Troy if he’s married.

I’m only up right now because Maria doesn’t know how to quietly open and close doors.

Well, Maria’s back here. She went straight home from school because she wanted money, or so she says. She called her parents to pick her up from downtown. I bet she just got lost/confused.

Just thought I should mention that Maria and I were late for class yesterday because she spent 45 minutes on her hair.

She and I had class at the same time, so I figured I’d teach her how to use public transportation. That’s right, she never knew how to use it. I explained to her that we needed to leave really early, because we’d be walking part of the way to get our bus passes.

I set a time for us to leave. She was ten minutes late for that, because of her hair.
The words, “You’re walking too fast,” were common from her mouth. Strangely, I was walking slower than normal.

We waited for a bus, got on, then waited for a train. I had to tell her to hang on to her bags. First thing she did in the train was take a pair of seats for herself, throwing her book bag and purse on the seat next to her.

I also had to explain to her to make sure to get on the NORTHBOUND train to get home. I reiterated- it’s the one that says HOWARD on it.

I haven’t seen her since we arrived at school yesterday. She probably got lost.

She just walked in, looked in the mirror, said “Trust me, girl, I know.”

Then she waits a brief moment and tries to start up the conversation we just had wherein she didn’t detect I insulted her intelligence.

So I went on and insulted her intelligence, and she didn’t get any of it.

I explained to her how her generalizations are usually wrong and offensive, and she’s like “what generalizations”

To which I replied the pastor conversation (wherein she stated that any man of god who is not a Catholic priest is a man of the devil and will trick you), assuming all online communities are cults, among other things.

“I never said any of that!”

BULL FUCKING SHIT.

She denied every point I brought to mind, and she could only defend herself with actions that happened today. She said I’m being rude, but she couldn’t exactly place why other than I’ve told her to shut up today.

She said she’s PREFER me to interrupt her to affirm what she’s saying. I see that as ruder that asking her to not repeat herself. She would prefer that I smile and nod than counter her non-working mind’s views.

Christ, did this girl just totally ignore anything regarding free-thought when she was growing up?

She doesn’t realize how stupid she’s making herself look when she repeats herself constantly. I attempt to explain this to her. I tell her that people might not comment not because they don’t get what she’s saying, but because they don’t get WHY she’s saying, and saying so much. She replies that I should say something. Again, I explain to her that “I will not speak while someone else is speaking, it’s rude to talk ove-”

Maria: “Nonononono, yo-”

Me: “You’re talking over me right now, be quiet for a second so I can explain this to you. When you talk, you don’t breathe: you repeat yourself right after you just said it, and you leave no room for someone to comment without talking over you. And when I do take the time to follow your rules and comment while you’re speaking, you don’t shut up and you don’t let me add to the conversation.”

Maria: “Nonono, you don’t get it, I just want a ‘uh-huh’ or something.”

Me: “I give you that, but you’re too busy talking to notice; You’re too busy saying, ‘Trust me, I know’ five times to things you barely get.”

Maria: “What do I barely get? I mean, what is it that you’ve told me that I don’t understand? What is something you’ve explained that you think I don’t understand?”

Me: “My situation at the arcade (I get tokens from doing side work for the owner. She thinks I get tokens by flirting with everyone.). My relationship with Troy. (She assumes he’s my ‘Chicago Boyfriend’ while Jorenko is my ‘Out of Town Boyfriend’) My request to not be involved in your dealings with others.”

Maria: “It’s just my way of saying, ‘Okay, whatever.'”

Me: “Wouldn’t it be easier to say, ‘Okay, whatever,’ than pretending you understand and making your own false generalizations about it?”

Maria: “Generalizations? Wha?”

Me: *scoff, smirk*

Maria: “Okay, fine, whatever, I get it, you’re so rude.”

Me: “At least I don’t try to spark up conversation with a person who’s just going to to bathroom.”

Maria: “What, you mean this morning? All I said was hi and you just ignored me!”

Me: “I waved, I nodded, and I said ‘Hi’ back.”

Maria: “I didn’t see that.”

Me: “Then you continued talking to the TV.”

Maria: “I do that a lot.”

Me: “You talked loud enough, as if you were trying to comment to me about what was going on on the TV.”

Maria: “Nonononono, girl, I talk to myself while watching tv. It’s just commenting on what’s on, Ashley does the same.”

Me: “You usually make verbal comments when someone else is in the room, which would not be ‘all the time.'”

Maria: “It’s not like I talk to myself.”

Me: “You just said you did.”

Maria: “Wha? You’re rude! I just comment to no one about what I think is funny or stupid on TV”

Me: “So you enjoy narrating your thought process. I can live with that.”

Maria: “Narrating? What does that mean? You’re rude. It’s not narrating.”

Me: “It’ Narrating. Making verbal your thoughts or actions.”

Maria: “You see? You get it. And the other things I say mean that I don’t care.”

Me: “Alright, now that I know that, I won’t take anything you say to heart.”

Maria: “You know, you’ve got your own sayings and stupid stuff like that, too.” *leaves the room*

I dare her to name any. She’d probably say that my use of three-syllable words is rude. She’d probably say that I’m scary. She’s probably say I’m stupid for hanging out at an arcade. She’d probably say that I’m scary because I play videogames. She’d probably say I’m satanic because I spend time on the internet.

Maria: (insert long one-sided conversation about nothing in particular in which she repeats herself five or so times) “… haha, you’re so funny, you’re like, ‘Ah! Our school’ and you hide behind the door, haha, the commercial for our school comes on and you’re-”

Me: “Yes, I understand that you find my actions humorous, but do you have to repeat it fifteen times?”

Maria: “Well, you look like you don’t get it, so that’s why I repeat myself, like you’re giving me this ‘huh?’ look, you know?”

Me: “It’s more of a look of ‘Why the hell is she repeating herself?”

Maria: “You take so long to respond, you’re like, haha, wait wait wait ‘this is why'”

Me: “That’s because some people actually take the time to think about what they’re going to say before they say it.”

Maria: “Haha, you’re so funny. What do you mean by that? I don’t get it.”

Me: “I figured it’d go over your head.”

Maria: (as I am walking into my room) “Hahah, you’re so funny, Amanda, you scare me.” (returns to watching Jerry Springer).

I often wonder how much, if at all, Maria thinks before she speaks; or does she prefer to narrate her process of incorrectly generalizing what she’s just heard?

The air seems as cluttered as my desk with all this noise.

Maria just got back from her weekend trip to her parent’s house.

First thing she asks me to do is rat our anything Ashley said to me about her.

I told her to leave me alone. She was shocked. She then tried to convince me that it was alright for me to tell her anything Ashley had said about her. I again told her no, leave me out of this, and never try to bring me into this again.

And she left.

—-

10:53

When she left, she didn’t shut the door. She just returned to shut it, but only shut it half way. I don’t mean half-way as in she didn’t pull it closed, I mean it’s literally half-way. 45-degree angle.

I don’t want to deal with either one of them, but only one of them respects my wish to be left out of it. The other keeps trying to drag me into it.

—

I moved to Chicago because I hoped to mingle with other cultures and learn more about the world.

I get stuck with people who have no idea what culture is.

My current answering machine message:

“How are you gentlemen – All your message are belong to us. This an answering machine, not answering service. If you are calling for anyone other than Amanda, Ashley, or Maria, please hang up now. If you are a telemarketter, fundraiser, or anyone else wanting to collect money, we are all poor college students, so please hang up. If you genuinely need to contact any of the current residents of 802, please leave a message after the tone.”

If you couldn’t tell by the opening greeting, this is all in the voice of CATS.

—–

The message clearly states that you should leave messages for Amanda, Ashley, or Maria.

“Jessica, this is your mother, that’s such a cute message! Tom’ll be calling right back to hear it! Happy Halloween!”
“Heh heh heh, so cute, Jessica. Happy Halloween.”

JESSICA MOVED OUT 32 DAYS AGO.

“You’re my witness,” she says to me, and grabs my forearm.

I yank it back and say, “No.” She looks at me, confused. “I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t there for any of it. I’m not part of this, do not bring me into it.”

She was shocked that I wouldn’t agree with her.

More on the roommate situation:

I was wrong about Maria trying to fight with Ashely. What had happened was Anna, a friend of Ashley’s, came over and tried to fight with Maria.

I could hear most of the conversation, and, basically, Anna was trying to fight for Ashley’s “rights” that Maria had supposedly violated. (things mentioned: Moving into the room, taking potato chips). When confronted with this, Ashley stated that she had no problem with Maria being in the room since, technically, her own room deal didn’t start until November.

Maria claims to not have taken the chips. I do not know either way, I have no knowledge of her actions regarding potato chips, other than that she doesn’t clean up after herself (or her friends)

Maria overheard Anna and Ashley speaking across the hall. (NOTE: The following information is based entirely on Maria’s side of the story.) Ashley had been exaggerating Maria’s “crimes” and whining that “I[Ashley] ask her[Maria] about the chips, and they suddenly returned to their place in the cupboard.” She also told Anna that after their “fight,” Maria was crying and saying how much she wanted to kick Anna’s ass. (I saw Maria directly after the fight and was there for the discussion she had with Ashley – Maria wanted nothing more than to get Anna out of the apartment, and to keep her from returning with that attitude. Maria was most definitely not crying.)

Yes, Ashley is apparently two-faced.
But, Maria is a liar. She one more than one occasion has lied about something to avoid responsibility. Cleaning up beer bottles, for one. She also claimed no dishes, even though she’s the only one that uses glasses. Ashley and I use water bottles or pop cans. Who’s not to say that Maria is lying about the chips?

When speaking to either one, I get the impression that they are trying to get me to turn against the other. Maria is more blatant about it than Ashley. Ashley will exaggerate to get a rise out of others, while Maria will say it almost directly that you should do something. Neither one can get me to do anything except bitch on Livejournal.

Kinda makes me wish that, after a few years of distance from these two, they come across my journal and see what they presented themselves as.

Maria asks me if Ashley’s mad at her. I tell her I don’t know. She then asks if I have any idea what could make her mad. I mention the beer bottles that have been sitting there all weekend. “They aren’t mine, they aren’t Ashley’s. Someone’s got to clean up after themselves.”

Maria’s response: “They’re Mike’s.”

“So are you going to ask him to come up and clean up, or are you going to clean up after your guest?”

“No, listen, this is how it is. I only had two beers, and Mike had like, six,” She then explains everything that I just told her with with many useless words and little sense. She then declares that she can’t clean up because there’s no room in the trash can.

“So take change the bag.”
“I don’t know where to take it.”
“I’ll show you. Clean up.”
“Look, I only drank two…” and she goes on again about how much she drank.

“That doesn’t matter. Unless you want to set those bottles in front of Mike’s door, you’re cleaning them up.”

“Okay, mom.”

“Those bottles have been sitting there all weekend.”
“They’ve been sitting there two days! Mike ordered Pizza and beer!”
“And you had Mike over on Friday night when I came back. You two never clea-”
“We cleaned that up! He was over Monday again.”
“Fine, fine, whatever, just clean it up already.” The bottles had most definitely been there since Friday, unless she cleaned up, and they made the exact same mess and placed the bottles in the exact same spots with the exact same amount of beer in them on Monday.

She comes up with another brilliant defense. “What about those dishes, huh? How long have they been sitting there? Since last week?”
“They aren’t mine.”
“But still…”
“Come on,” I said, and lifted the garbage bag I’d been tying off.

She followed me to the trash chute, all the while bitching about how she’d rather we talk to her face than bitch behind her back (which we hadn’t done.) She then got in the lift and took the beer bottles to Mike’s apartment.

And she’s 24. Fucking immature.

She knocks on the door and exclaims that she’s in a “fucking hurry,” then adds seven more unneeded sentences. She won’t shut up. I finally say, “Are you going to stop talking for a second so I can answer?”
“Well, it looked like you were thinking.”
“I knew the answer to your question before you went on explaining everything. Just be quiet for a second so I can-”
“Come on, Amanda, I’m in-”
“Quiet.”
“I’m ina hu-”
“Shush.”
“…”
I explain to her how to get to school using public transportation. She pays very little attention because she’s too busy asking me to repeat things I just said. So she finally comes to the conclusion that to take the 77 bus to the station and then the Dan Ryan/95 train to the Washington stop, and then back, it’s going to cost her $6. (It will only cost $3.60 if she’d paid attention properly)
“… if this is your first time on anything CTA, you probably shouldn’t be going alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t seem to understand anything I just told you very well.”
“Believe me girl, I’ll be fine.”

I bet my debt she’ll get lost.