Roommates

The other day, someone asked me if I went to "this school". Not only do I attend the same university as this particular person, but we have been living on the same floor for a little over a semester, I see him in the elevator at least twice a week, and we take almost the same route for one class (I walk about 30-50 paces behind to avoid awkward glances or conversation).

I am an introvert, yes. But he is a rare type of human being whom I would categorize as "thoroughly futile".

I think my roommates and I are of the same species. There is this atmosphere of an unspoken mutual agreement that we couldn't give less of a shit about each others' lives. We just respect one anothers' hermit lifestyle and right to spend an entire weekend with our torrented files and cereal. Or that's only me and I just have a paltry acceptance of my social tendencies. The interactions I've shared with my roommates are limited to one brief conversation per roommate. They never make their presence known. Do I even have roommates at the moment? No way of knowing. I've thought about opening their doors just to check, but if they were in there I'd have to explain what I was doing, and that's a lot of work for something I don't really care enough about.

I like to make up improbable scenarios in my head for what my roommates do when they're not here. Example:
           They're all just extremely sexually active. Every night they venture out on a new sexcapade, sporting their finest leather skirts and fedoras, apathetically drawn-on eyebrows and drugstore blue eyeshadow (I like to imagine these as very ninetees-esque sexcapades). These girls would act like they're in a late 90's/early 2000's high school movie: they're totally DTF, but they would standoffish-ly freak if weed or cheat sheets were in their presence, "You guys, this might be a bad idea. My mom would totes go postal if she found out".


Another fun scenario:
          They're all part of a union that I'm not supposed to know about. Maybe it's some underground mafia-type deal, but for Timothy Spall (actor; plays Peter Pettigrue from the Harry Potter series). They're all anamorphic creatures: one roley-poley, one blue gill fish, and one transformation that always goes terribly wrong and she ends up looking like that gooey blob fish from the China Town in MIB 3. All of them are almost completely useless, but Spall likes the idea of governing dismal disciples. Spall, himself still turns into a rat just because he kind of looks like one. This "squad" shares a sole priority to capture the Declaration of Independence (they were inspired by National Treasure). However, the team will never accomplish anything because they're all the animal versions of themselves when they're together, and my roommates forget anything that had occurred upon their return to the dorms.

This post feels sort of shorter than the others, but I have nothing further to discuss under this topic. So I'll wrap this bs up.

aright aright ariiiggghhht.


SO. Something that I've never done before:

SIT ATOP A MOUNTAIN

One last thought to entertain:
        People tattoo themselves and alter their bodies in order to resemble an animal. Do you think they ever regret it? Like maybe a month later, they're eating their McMuffin thinking, "Hm. This was a bad idea. I'm the Best Man at my brothers wedding, which is next weekend. Yes. This was a bad idea". Or like what if they decide to do that one day and then their friends ask them to hang out like 2 weeks later, but they've neglected to inform their friends of their extreme alterations. The friend opens the door and screams/begins to cry, "OKAY, YES! I TOOK THE LAST CHEX MIX OUT OF THAT SENILE WOMAN'S CART AT KROGER, JUST LEAVE MY FAMILY OUT OF IT!". But it turns out it's just their friend and now they have to write a long, apologetic, explanatory letter in order to redeem themselves. You're beautiful the way you are and you will never be a different species on this planet, but we're all pretending to be really sorry about it for you.

Night.