This Is the Part Where I Tell You I'm A Cutter and You Tell Me How To Fix Everything

I'm not really a crier. I've cried a handful of times in my adult life, mostly during episodes of Desperate Housewives and one time to make TBA stop arguing with me and hug me. Usually, I express my feelings of profound sadness through eating fatty foods or just going to bed. So it is surprising, even to me, that I came home from work today, sat in the corner of my room, and cried.

I realize it's a little bit early to be having an existential crisis being that I'm still young and there is still time to make sweeping life changes. But the very root of my frustration is that extenuating factors will keep me from making these sweeping life changes and I'm going to have to live the life I'm leading now for the next 30 years until I turn into an old gay person / cease to exist in society's eyes.

I'm adjusting poorly the real world. I can't even explain how disappointed I am in myself for choosing subsequently easier majors until I settled on one that would lead me down this career path that [I am just now realizing?] is going to drive me fucking insane. Maybe it's just the company I work for, which seems to be relegated to the smaller and more remedial projects. Maybe it's the project itself, which is indeed small in scope and remedial. Or maybe it's my boss, who can only explain concepts while making motions like he's throwing a football, and still does a shit poor job of it. 

But I'm trapped. If I leave before a year, every company on the face of the planet will think I have some form of professional leprosy. I also have to study my ass off for the next six months to finish my CPA exam or I owe my company the $3000 they paid for the useless study courses. After one year, I could always move to another company, go to law school, or maybe get my MBA. But will these things really make my life better, or provide more of the same problems? What I really want to do is start my own food truck. I do not have the capital for that.

More than my professional problems, I'm affected by personal ones. I'm lonely. My friends have scattered to far flung places like London and Seoul and Arlington. I used to eat every meal, do every workout, and drink every drink with a friend. Now, I find myself doing all those things alone. I have too many nights of quiet desperation where I don't do anything but evaluate and reevaluate my life. Just like saying a word over and over makes it lose its meaning, thinking about my professional and personal goals on an hourly basis makes them seem so much farther away and wholly unattainable.

Recently I've been thinking about TBA a lot. We did this whole awkward social tango where I successfully ignored him for about a month after our break up and then he texted me out of the blue and asked "Are we seriously never talking again?" so I relented and we talked for about a day and then he started ignoring me. I'm not sure if he was just doing that to gain the upper hand and have the last say but that's what happened. I'm pretty sure he's sitting somewhere, stroking his four cats, blissfully aware that I miss him and I am utterly incapable of starting a new relationship because every guy I go out with either doesn't remind me enough of him or reminds me too much of him.

It feels good to get some of my feelings out on virtual paper even though emoting online doesn't make anything go away. Realistically, all I can do is hold fast and try to make good life decisions. But inwardly I worry that the natural flow of "wise" life decisions is going to keep taking me further from the things I really want.

The Lease Dies Tonight

I have this roommate. 

He seemed like he was going to be white and gay and friendly and smart and considerate and funny. It turns out he is only white and gay. Apparently white and gay are not synonymous with any of the aforementioned traits; only bitchy, selfish, and... what's the word for "has really nice hair"?

I pose an example.

Every day, after he comes home from work, he frantically changes out of his suit and into some sort of hipster clothing article he bought from a thrift store for $1 or a vintage store for $100 and spends a good 15 to 30 minutes complaining about everyone he spoke to that day. Normally, I would be fine with this, but he does exactly what the people he complains about do.

I pose an example.

He takes very serious issue with a coworker who makes judgmental comments about what he eats for lunch. "I don't understand why anybody would try to impose their arbitrary food preferences on somebody else like it even matters."

Nevermind the obnoxious use of the word "arbitrary" in that sentence [like it even matters]. But the other night, he comes home, looks at me drunk-eating a sandwich, and goes, "I don't understand anybody who would buy pre-sliced and pre-packaged turkey." What does he do? Hunt, roast and slice a wild tom every time he's in the mood for a turkey club.

He also likes to preface most of his comments with the phrase, "I don't understand." As if the idiocy that is about to follow can be forgiven because it's all part of his endless quest for knowledge.

Anyway, he's a complainer. And after going on and on about how he has the worst life out of anybody on the entire planet, he takes a stab at politeness and asks, "I'm sorry, how was your day?" But at that point he isn't really interested in listening and is already thinking about J. Crew's November catalog.

One afternoon, I came home to find him dragging a sponge across the kitchen counter. It was like the only place he ever saw somebody clean was during "The Help." "I cleaned the apartment all day" he said in his best housekeeper/martyr impression. He then complained about our other roommate for never cleaning (I'm sure he complains about me when I'm not around). But the real irony is that the place looked exactly the same. White people's idea of cleaning is putting a spoon into the dishwasher and then going back to reading Gawker, eating grainy mustard, and bitching about why everyone else won't clean everything else.

And he also does this thing where he says something really obnoxious and catty like "I don't understand why anybody would watch Desperate Housewives", pauses, and then goes, "are you mad at me?" like asking how his bitchy comments make you feel makes him somehow thoughtful. FYI, just because you're paranoid about being inconsiderate does not make you considerate.

Then there are the little things: like the fact that we are fighting a war of attrition on who should by the next ream of toilet paper, and the fact that he refuses to split the cost of buying a couch from Ikea because it's "ridiculously expensive" but will buy a $200 peacoat from Zara right after work but before going to the store and spending $50 on arugula and Icelandic yogurt.

But more than all of this, it seems like he's just not a great person. He finds himself very intelligent and inquisitive and cool but everything about his life is so contrived and refuses to be disagreed with. To top it all off, he's always saying something shitty about somebody, most of the time, right after they've left the room. Sure, he tells me he's my friend to my face, but who knows what that even means coming from a white and gay person.

Perhaps it's fitting then that last night, he came home from the grocery store fuming, "Can you believe somebody at Giant told me I had no manners?"

I did, but I didn't say anything, because I'm the good roommate.