The Daily Adventures of Mercat

today is my first day of "grad school", I am shockingly not nearly as nervous as I thought I'd be. I guess after five years of engineering, well... actually, I don't know. I've always been very perceptive of age and position, and that usually works against me because I can't call old teacher-friends by their first names (still!) and I am used to be the youngest person around, which means I usually submit myself to the conversation and let other people talk more. Which I desperately need to work on, because I'm pretty smart and I need to show that more, especially when shutting up just leaves me with this shocked sense of are these really the people I am peers with? (Far from everyone, but certain incidents are rather appalling.) Anyway, I'm one of the older people in the house now, and I was thinking more about my age-out year the other day and I just need to be more like that, I guess.

I have also possibly been watching too much Sherlock this week. I caught up on three whole episodes, which is basically three entire movies'-worth.

Anyway. I met my roommates yesterday, and I got to talk to two of them a little more, they seem pretty friendly, which is good. Hopefully we will all socialize more because I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, as always.

So remember how I found the alive food in the oven? Nobody touched that shit for a day after I know everyone was home, so I said "fuck it" and threw it out, plate and all. I'll just pretend I broke a plate but considering this place is a 4-student-college-rental, I really don't feel like anyone's going to be missing that one plate. Especially considering I opened up the pantry last night and someone's cornmeal was being torn apart and eaten up by some kind of bug.

YEAH SO. Gotta get plastic containers for all my foods, it seems.


Oh! And then this morning. I went to make breakfast and someone had eaten one of my fucking frozen pizzas.

Look. I know I have this irrational ownership problem with food. But if you didn't buy the food, DON'T FUCKING EAT THE FOOD. And considering I got up at 4 this morning and went to the bathroom and it sounded like there were people hanging out in the living room watching TV and I know the other night there was a fair amount of drinking going on, I am only going to tolerate this once.

Once is an accident.

Twice is a coincidence.

Three times is a pattern. And I am tired of dealing with people who don't respect my boundaries, this problem has been far too common in my life on the whole. Yes, I realize it's just a pizza. But hell to the no. I don't have a car, I am not filthy rich, I can't make a trip to the grocery any time I damn well please. I have a bicycle, and I don't even have a fucking basket for it, I'm going to have to carry everything in my backpack.

People wonder why I'm such an introvert, it's because of shit like this. The details bother me. I shut myself up in boundaries because people are constantly not respecting the ones I set. If I'm an Ice Queen as some folks so ~teasingly~ called me in high school, it's not because I want to be that way, let me assure you.

Well, that and I tend to internalize most things. Which I think makes me not so good at expressing them and holding "normal" conversation, I'm not sure. But yeah, that, too.