I’m sitting here in my room, headphones plugged in to my computer, Dean Martin turned up to an unhealthy volume and flowing straight into my temporal lobe (undoubtedly killing brain cells) and I’ll have to admit that anything sensitive, personable or empathetic in my character has
completely abandoned me. I’m annoyed. I’m glowering. I’m clenching my jaw (something my dentist has specifically warned against). Why? Dare you ask? Of course you do, however subconsciously. It’s because my roommates have seen fit to throw a dance party in our living room in honor of their Fabulous Valentine’s Day Girls’ Night. I’ll have to admit something at this juncture: I get inwardly annoyed easily and the thing that really gets me is when people are inconsiderate. Of course, since this is an inward annoyance I don’t act upon it. If I did people would start crying and, when you get right down to it, I only make people cry for really good reasons. I also like to think that I’m holding myself to a higher behavioral standard than people who snap at the slightest provocation (go ahead and draw your own conclusions as to whether that’s true or not). I understand it’s Valentine’s Day and most everyone with some semblance of a heart (which clearly excludes me) wants to believe that they’re loved on this day if on no other day out of the year. I however, couldn’t care less. What’s important to me right now is the fact that I have this essay to write, another paper due next week I’d like to get a jump on and, overshadowing every other consideration this evening, a botany test that I have no real desire to fail. And here are my darling roomies playing generally crappy music at a decibel level that makes me feel like I’m living in a speaker. Got to love when Housing tosses you in with people you’d never met before the day you moved in. Cheers, ladies, and I hope you find what you’re looking for out of life. 
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