So, I realize blogging is my way to complain and to be quite frank, a selfish bitch. When I think about this, I mean, people would most definitely agree, they like to read about something they can relate to themselves, something that makes them feel a little selfish. Why read something if you're not interested in it, right?
It's been a long week. I have lyme disease. My apartment building has a bedbug infestation. I have gotten over 100 bug bites in the past month. No one can possibly relate to this right now. It sucks right? (I'm sure people can relate to this saying though..) Life's not fair. It's not.
Only thing to do right now is stick it out and keep my head up. I've not learned to control my temper. I'm sure everyone is hot tempered every now and then but it's difficult for me to learn. I don't believe this will ever happen. After this bug bite thing, I've been freaking out and yelling at everything. Sorry. It's not you, it's the damn bugs.
On a lighter note, I had the most cliché college student weekend. Only bad thing is, my body is aging quicker than my actual age. I couldn't recover as quickly. Actually another bad thing. Had I been sober, I would've realized this last Friday. My same friend left me alone once again, freaked out and alone, this time extremely inebriated and unable to walk home by myself. Where are your friends when you need them? Apparently, they're never going to be there. Better thing is, I found the kindest male stranger in my drunken stupor to walk to home. There are kind people in this world.
So I've been thinking and watching my interactions with other people and their interactions with me. Of course, they'll never say it to me, but they will to my friends. First thing they see, my chest. When will this end? I want to be more than just that. Why is the body so important? Don't say it goes back to our animal instinct. That was way back when. This is a civilized society now. People should be better than that. Saturday, I was grabbed by a man on bike. He didn't even stop. Just rode by and grabbed my butt. Twice. It's not funny. I hear you laughing. I felt so violated. I wanted to hit him. I yelled at him to come back, he turned around. The end. No balls to even stop. What a douchebag. Think about what you would do if this happened to you. Think about it. It was a black man, too. I was never racist. Ever. But after living in this city for 3 years, I have this wall growing between me and black people. Don't get me wrong, I love the hip-hop, their soul, the gospel. I just hate everything else. All the black men I've met didn't prove what my parent's said wrong. Oh well. I guess there's some truth in what's told to you. It just took me a while to see it.
I don't want to talk about that anymore. It makes me angry.
Anyhow, there's this Met thing tomorrow I would like to attend. No one I really know is going and the girl I do know is being accompanied by her other friends. Poop. What to do, what to do.
Time for some homework/reading/ice cream.