I, surprisingly, don't feel depressed.
Just bored.

And slightly guilty and overwhelmed, because I have a fucking shit ton of homework. I haven't been reading the short stories for my one class regularly, and my notebook is due tomorrow for a midterm grade. I'm supposed to write a little log at the end of reading each story and reflect on it. Fuck that shit, man. I don't have time for this!

But I had a good night last night! Only to wake up to an awkward morning... But let's start with the wonderful night.

I actually went out (I feel like a meme-face-thing should be going "ermagerd" right about now. But, I hate those meme-face-things and "ermagerd".) and did something somewhat social (HOLY FUCKING SHIT!). Gridline Base Band (the band my roommate Rachel sings in) had a show at the "community center" for my apartment complex, and she really wanted me to go. So I went. They were pretty damn awesome. This may or may not have been the first live performance of a band I've been to. (I feel like I've been to another small thing before, but I don't think so. By far the closest thing to a concert I've been to, which is pretty lame.) It was cramped in the small room of the "community center" and there was a small crowd of about... Twenty to thirty people? But I had fun. And Rachel kept thanking me, telling me it meant a lot to her that I came. I don't understand why. I'm just her roommate, why would she care if I came? But it made me feel special because it made her happy that I went. And I'm glad I went. I really enjoyed it. They're pretty good live. And Dan was playing an electric guitar, which sounded fucking sick. It was great. He has a pretty good voice, too. Rachel really does, too. And Dan thanked me for coming to the show, too, after it was done. I don't understand why it was a big deal. They were the ones who did the cool thing: they performed. I just listened to their awesomeness. They're not really my genre, but I still enjoyed it. They're good.

And the weirdest part is like three guys smiled at me. This one guy even kept telling me I should smile. Like, guys don't pay attention to me. They don't notice me. But last night, three did. It kinda felt good to not be invisible for once. And not invisible in a not good way.

But the most uncool part was the fact that I saw two kids I went to high school with (Michael and Noah, both in the class after me). As Facebook tells me, only one of them actually goes to Purchase (Noah). The other must have been visiting. It was so weird to see them, though! And after some Facebook research (stalking), I found out another kid, Hagan, goes here. And I already knew, before I was accepted, that a kid Andrew is here. All of them were in the grade below me.

But this morning, I woke up to their photographer sleeping in Rachel's bed. It took me about thirty minutes to realize this.

When my alarm woke me up (at eight so I could take my antibiotic on time), it was him stirring in the bed that actually woke me up (I had sat up and looked over, and was like, "Oh, shit," as I scrambled up). So I quickly turned off the alarm, and sat there for a little while. I finally took my pill, and was staring at the floor when I noticed the same boots the cute (but perhaps gay) photographer was wearing last night. I watched him a lot, because one, he had an awesome outfit, and two, I wanted to know if he was gay or not. So I remembered these boots. Confused, I re-evaluated the person laying in Rachel's bed. I noticed the lack of blue hair, and the length of his body under the blanket. Definitely too long to be my short roommate. Then I was like, "Oh, fuck, that's the photographer."

How he ended up in her bed, I still don't understand. I think they got shit-faced. But I'm kinda mad that he was here. It was so fucking awkward. At what point in the night did he come stumbling in and pass out on her bed? 'Cause by the conversation they had, she didn't walk him in here and point out her bed or anything. She was shit-faced, too. So how did he end up here? And, not to mention, it's rude that he was here, sleeping in her room, without her here. If she was here, he'd have been a guest. Without her here, he was just intruding in my space. The bullshit is really getting old. Rachel has no respect for me being her roommate. She also keeps unplugging my powerstrip so she can plug her fan in and smoke weed in the room when I'm in Connecticut Tuesday nights/Wednesday mornings. And, what pisses me off is that she leaves my powerstrip unplugged. If you're going to do that, at least have the fucking decency to plug it back in. So I unplugged both the lamp and the fan and plugged my powerstrip back in. I'm just so pissed at her sometimes. Then she goes and thanks me and tells me it means a lot to her that I went to the show. Ugh, whatever.

I really just want to move out of here. I'm tired of being here. I hate it. But, at the same time, it's different from the safe environments I've always been in. I feel like I've grown a little since coming here. 'Cause I'm really on my own. Not just at the college, but in the fact that I'm taking buses to and from Connecticut. Like, is this really me? Doing things on my own, in the real world?

The next step of growing up and maturing is getting a job.

I don't know why I don't have one. I just don't. Babysitting and work study at the library have been my only jobs. I want a job, 'cause I miss money, but I don't know where to get one. A cashier position looks scary (I'm terrified of people and socially awkward). I hate mundane tasks such as restocking and re-shelving. But, I suppose you don't really need people skills for that, so I could do it. I'm scared that my lack of experience is really going to fuck me up in the real world. I'm scared that it will? That's implying I have doubt about it actually doing it. No, I know that it will. Employers will look at my résumé, and be like, "You've never had a job? Why not?"

And what am I supposed to tell them? "I'm lazy and terrified of the real world!"

"Oh, okay. You seem to show great potential for this job, and you're exactly the person we're looking—"

Yeah, right. Fucking no.

So I'm screwed.

And is it weird that I'm listening to "Hero of War" by Rise Against on repeat? Its brutally raw emotion just... I don't know. It's a depressing and sobering. When I listen to the lyrics, even after over fifty plays, I still get teary. This song breaks my heart. The reality of war helps me realize that my pitiful life is just that: pitiful. It makes me realize that whatever I'm going through isn't that bad. And it makes me want to go out and hug a soldier, because they are the most amazing people in the world. And it makes me want to be able to do something to stop the war so they don't have to go through this. I feel horrible, because they're going through this to protect our way of life. To protect our country. They shouldn't have to. My well-being isn't worth them going through this. But I will never be able to thank them enough for it.