Is trying to resist the urge to commit homicide.
6th August 2009 - Transfiguration of Our Lord. Mem. of Martt. Sixtus, Felicissimus, and Agapitus.
The Latin test seemed to have gone very badly. Then I came home to my flatmate pointedly not moving out. On Friday, after my family visited, I packed up and headed off to Oturehua for the weekend with Oli. His annual birthday trip. The trip up went well, though it is disconcerting travelling through the country side in the dark and only seeing the little bubble lit by the headlights. With my head the way it is I kept seeing shadow animals on the road which made the whole thing more surreal that I was prepared for. Otherwise it was all sweet. We got there to find the place light and warm, Oli's dad having got the fires going and got everything set up and running. It was very nice. Then we settled in for a quiet night of talking shit with Oli's dad, step mother amd one of her friends. While we didn't really do anything much else, but still ended up having a very late night, which I made later by chatting with Greer for quite a while after we'd curled up in our sleeping bags.
On the Saturday, after a breakfast of Coco Pops, we went walking along the river and a bit of the rail trail. There was mocking of livestock, some climbing up the side of bridges, some almost killing myself and some unsucessfully jumping over small streams (splashing Oliver in the process). The dam was a little frozen, but we watched as it cracked and moved under the weight of a couple of swans walking across it (walking swans have absolutely no grace at all) so it was pretty clear that we'd not be going on it. Then we headed back to town and pottered around there for a while. In the evening we dined on roast goat - which was wonderful. I decided to stop after only a couple of beers, and thus was token sober for the night. Articulate was then played - but people (and by people I here mean Bridget) were too drunk and it ended up getting a little on the messy side with insults and general bitterness about the result (my team having won and, thus, not Bridget's). Otherwise it was another good night, though I snumck of well early and slept while the rest of them had the good night without me.
Waking on Sunday morning, rolling over and seeing Greer in my jersey was entertaining. She was punishing me for being chivalrous by keeping the jersey I passed her when she'd been shivering. Sunday was pretty relaxed. A very long breakfast turned afternoon tea, followed by a nice quite wander up a hill and then the drive home.
Monday I had classes. Getting up for them didn't go great and I ws a bit late, but that happens.
Tuesday much the same. Except for having to deal with my flatmate being drunk and stoned. That guy really has to leave my house. He is pissing me off so very, very much but is convinced that we're getting on great and that if he just keeps trying I'll take back the whole kicking him out thing. And smoking up in my flat and them making out like it was some divine right was pretty much insult to injury. The guy really does have to realise that just because he doesn't agree with limits doesn't mean that he is magically immune from people holding his breaking of said limits against him. Then after the being annoyingly over friendly, he started doing such fun stuff as going through my stuff, including dumping out drawers to see what was in them. And still he can't see why he isn't good to live with, and even gave a big speech about how respectful of other people's privacy he was. Complete fucking pillock. He also started demanding I give him various things he'd picked up and decided I didn't use enough. He also demanded I give him my Gameboy - which I have since realised I've not seen in over a month and that both it and my small stash of games for it are very much missing. I was having a bit of trouble resisting the urge to call the cops on him for smoking up in my house, and the more I think about it the more I regret not having done it.
I was woken in the night by him bashing around in the kitchen, and singing about making baked beans. He'd also helped himself to a bit of my food, thawed out a box of frozen fish I'd bought and generally made a mess of my stuff.
Wednesday this week was even harder than normal, thanks to my sleep being disturbed by the great fucktard. My class was followed by a nice long relaxing swim. Then dad took me out and I got properly fitted shoes. turns out my foot is a 4E (fancy code for too wide footed for wide fit shoes) - which means the store only stocked one style wide enough and it is pretty damn ugly, and stil pinches and feels too tight. After a nice long nap and a half arse attempt at cutting my hair I had dinner with Aaron and the Lord's Recovery lot (after they turned up while I was in PJs about to flag eating and just go back to bed - having completely forgotten I'd agreed to dine with them).
Today, classes, followed by a weeks worth of being properly social. I caught up with Mike the Canadian, after several months of being "technically friends" we've now talked in person twice ever. It's a bit odd and reminds me why I don't do new people, especially internet people. Then lunch with Greer, which was very nice even if I forgot to give her the heavy book I'd carried around for her the whole day. And after doing my Latin homework, I had a nice afternoon tea with Emily. I got home to relax and my dad and brother turned up, dad baring takeaways - which is always a good thing. Then my git flatmate came home and started smoking up again, getting the smell through the whole place and leaving me feeling quite sick. I'd been feeling shit enough without that. So I've had an evening of the shakes, pins and needles in my hands and wishing horrible death on my flatmate. He also couldn't pay the rent, but them got cranky at me for not appreciating the awesomeness of the $150 worth of fancy dope he had (oh, and I was threatened in the thinly veiled way by one of my neighbours about my flatmate owing her money for drugs). I really don't know why I haven't just called the cops on him. I'm too freaking nice for my own good.
16th August 2009 .
Friday and the weekend went to my CHTH essay on the comparative Greatness of the saint, Pope Gregory I. Well, apart from a Friday night out with Oli and Greer, and a quick sunday afternoon trip to catch OSS 117 - Lost in Rio at the Film Festival. It was freaking awesome, and much better than I'd ever expect from the French. I also used my study break to prove my gameboy stuff was nowhere in my house.
Oh, on the Friday i'd also been to a lawyer and been suggested to get a trespass notice and serve it against the great git.
Monday I ended up sitting in the library finishing up what in the end was a very shit essay. The rest of Monday and all Tuesday I don't really remember anything of at all apart from being very tired.
Wednesday I seriously considered wagging class, due to being too tired to think. I ended up only going as my flatmate had come hmoe and his being there was making me want to be elsewhere. So I went to Latin and failed to take in anything before heading to the pool and all but falling asleep in the aquajogging lane. Then home to a nap and much Latin study.
Thursday morning I was late to CHTH for the third time this week. Then I had a Latin test which was again less than ideal. My brain is failing to hold declension tables.
23rd August 2009 - SS. Timotheus and Appollinaris. With Nocturn. Vigil.
I'm just going to carry on from the last as a semi-continuous as I keep getting distracted.
That Thursday, after my Latin test, I went to the police station to report my stolen Gameboy Advanced and games. They were all, sucks to be you fill out this form until I mentioned my flatmates name and suddenly the receptionist pulled the form back and made serious "oh" face. So I was sent to talk to an officer and they were all pretty much of the "get him out of your house" opinion. It was a bit full on, and I was feeling a bit like I was throwing around accusations a little readily and they were being too quick to jump on them - I had nothing to say it was him rather than someone he'd let into my house though the police were pretty confident it was my flatmate. After lunch with Greer and catching up with Emily I came home and noticed the empty game boxes had been moved. The two so old they were un-sell-on-able had been put back into the wrong boxes. So I asked my flatmate what the fuck was going on - turns out this was the wrong thing to do as it just gave him a chance to get rid of any evidence before the police arrived. He even snatched the boxes and made a big show of putting his finger prints on everything - confirming in my mind that he was entirely at fault. As such I served a trespass notice on him and he came back on the Saturday and moved his stuff out. I may be several hundred dollars out of pocket (not even counting stolen stuff) but it's worth never getting the money to have him gone. Though I did discover later that while he was moving out he stole some more stuff, mostly some food and all my clean tea towels. Complete cockface. And still had the nerve to give a big speech about how good he'd been to me. I think I'll go sans-flatmate for a while.
On Monday I got my Latin test back - and had genuinely earned myself an A in it, which was a relief (the CHTH essay came back later in the week, with much less flattering results). Then I had my locks changed, just to be safe. That night I found out one of the guys from the soccer group (as not so much a team) I was in before I got sick had died over the weekend.
All the excitement of de-creepy-flatmating my flat meant that by Tuesday I was already tired and failing to get things done. Though on Tuesday night I went to a movie - which I really shouldn't have as it left me feeling very unwell (District 9 is pretty awesome though and was probably even worth how sick it left me feeling).
Wednesday, I came very close to wagging but somehow made it in and to the pool afterward (where I just soaked and didn't actually swim at all (no-one tell Canadian Mike)). Then I slept the afternoon away and still ended up having an early night.
Thursday, after classes I ended up going home much earlier than I usually do on a Thursday, which was very much needed as I needed another day of mostly napping. And in the evening I had the arrival of couchsurfer. So I spent the evening chatting to him and making him watch Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog before a reasonably early night.
Friday morning, funeral. I missed the fact everyone was supposed to wear green, so I dressed tidy and respectful in the usual funeral way. It was a nice service though, for all that I really hate funerals and really would rather just pretend death didn't happen. There were more people than could properly fit in Hope & Sons, and the speeches were pretty good. After the service there was a wake of sorts at the Kensington. I wanted to go home and sleep but ended up staying and getting horribly drunk. It then moved to the Botanical Gardens were we ate takeaways and got drunker still. I was home and wasted off my head by about 9 - when I ened up drinking more with my couchsurfer and then tumbling in to bed too far gone to go out again as I was sort of supposed to (having come home to get the meds I'd forgotten to take with me).
The weekend following has pretty much been spent curled up at home recovering. I'm feeling very burnt out - which is weird as I've not actually done all that much. I'm not looking forward to waking up for class in the morning.