Dramarama

I'm fairly sure Michael got dumped by his boyfriend last night. Gah... Kind of saw it coming though, what with the mood swings and all the crying. It's a lot to handle as a roommate, harder to handle as a partner and one that's only known him for a couple months at that. It's sad, Chris is a nice guy, and I think he was really good for Michael.

In any case, Michael came out of his room last night while I was attempting to do a post-shower dehumidify in front of my lovely A.C. unit. He had tears in his eyes and told me he was going to the hospital and won't be around for a couple days. I assume this means that he feels suicidal and has committed himself. I'm glad, because he does really need some professional help - even before the breakup. His current psychiatrist is a quack who just gives him all the drugs he wants, but he needs someone who understands the full implications of Michael's brain, hopefully someone who's tough enough and smart enough to give Michael the help he needs.

I asked him once why he didn't get a therapist. He says he has a hard time finding one because he finds them generally to be far less intelligent than him and he can't get anything meaningful from that. Hm.

Shameless

So I got a message from Michael at the end of the workday saying that he would really like to sit down and have a talk with me. Shit. I get home and I just go into my room because I didn't want to deal with it. I was ready to just plop down on the couch and go, "All right, yell at me. I can tell you've been saving up for it." Marlen came home and said that she talked to Michael about it a little. He yet again had no idea why I was mad, and she told him that the email he wrote me was bitchy and bitter and called me a horrible nag and made me sound like I was less than a human being. We discussed it all a bit which made me feel better and helped me compose my thoughts.
Then Marlen went to go shower and I went to start dinner. While that was going on, Michael floats out of his room like a teary-eyed little ghost and stands there snuffling and goes, "I'm so sorry. I never should have yelled at you. That was a horrible thing for me to do. I shouldn't have done it. I will never do it again. I want us to be okay. Will we be okay? Are you okay with me? What can I do to make us okay again?" I just noticed all the "I"s and "me"s in the conversation. I gave him a very composed answer and stated that he basically needs to leave me alone because I'm really hurt. Not mad, but hurt. And I don't think he believes me, but it's nevertheless how I feel. And I told him straight out that I think he was flipping out on me because I was pulling away from him due to my hurt feelings. I doubt much of it sank in. He went snuffling away back into his room.
So Marlen comes out and we're talking and laughing and organizing our dinner and then Michael comes out after sobbing loudly and asks us with tears streaming down his face if he can have some of our food.

Shameless.

But what the heck are you supposed to say to that? But quite truly, I had only planned to cook for Marlen and me, so there really was only enough for Marlen and me and I said that if there was anything left he could have some. And he snuffled and went back into his room. And some time later, he came out and said he was going to Chris's, took his sweet time getting ready, asking us which outfit of his looked better, and then was on his way. Boy did we feel better after that. It was a really yummy dinner. I look forward to making "pizotto" again.

I can't really yell at Michael, mostly because he doesn't seem to understand what we say, and is more interested in deflecting blame and being on the defensive than actually taking any sort of constructive criticism. And so, my only conclusion is that I have to remove myself from his life and just wait out the rest of the lease.

I also managed to tell Marlen straight out that I didn't think this apartment was working. I don't want to live with Michael, and the whole living arrangement with Marlen isn't working. And then Marlen is possibly going off to grad school. With all of these, I think that I should just move back in to Erica's. And I think Marlen was a little sad, but she agreed and said that she wouldn't want me to sign on to something with her only to have her leave a few months after.

Things are going better.

The Break Up

I'm going to have to dump someone. No, not Axel. I'm breaking up with Michael.

Since the little cellphone incident, I've been avoiding him and keeping the conversations short. I still smile and say hello, but I just don't feel like giving him much more than that.

On Saturday, I sat on the carpet in the living room and there were some chip crumbs. So I emailed Michael and asked him to vacuum the carpet because there were chip crumbs which I assumed were from his party. I asked him to email because the day of the party, I briefly stopped by the apartment and I saw two bags of chips on the coffee table. I don't buy chips, and Marlen hadn't been around to buy chips, so I naturally assumed the offending chip was his. In any case, he'd vacuumed the carpet before and had all the vacuum know-how. O, and he constantly tells me, "I want to help, but I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

So he replies by email, sure! I see him Sunday and I'm in my usual mood so things are good. Monday I work from 8am to 7pm, followed by my quilting group which went till 9. I get home and I'm tired so I'm not in my most chipper mood, and was, in fact, quite depressed because I'd been thinking about how horrible my mother is. He hops around and seems to want to converse. I'm tired and all I want to do is be on my laptop in peace - in the living room because my room is hotter.

The next day - yesterday - I got a really long, angry email that I was such a bitch for asking him to vacuum, that the chips weren't his and that we all had contributed equally to the mess on the carpet. And then he says that he doesn't understand why I'm always angry and yelling at him and that it seemed like no matter what he did, I was always angry at him. I fumed about it for a few hours before I realized that 1) I hadn't been yelling at him at all. In fact, lately, he's the only one that's been doing any yelling. 2) He's yelling at me again because I wasn't my usual perky self on Monday night which he interpreted as, "I'm still mad at you, Michael." Because it's always about Michael. Not like working a 13 hour day might be any excuse for not wanting to talk much. All in all, he's been depending on me for constant attention and validation and when I don't give him either, he lashes out.

He's my clingy drama queen girlfriend and I have to break up with him now.

Un-Special

Okay, I'm just going to say it. I'm sure this will piss off "forward thinking" people.

Being gay doesn't make you special.

There, I said it.

Yes, you're oppressed because you can't legally get married in any state. Yes, people hate and fear what you are. Yes I know gays are jailed and executed in some countries. I am aware that the very fact that the government not recognizing same-sex couples promotes the rampant promiscuity that really isn't all that unusual in the hetero-sexual world either, but is made so much more dramatic for gays because of things like AIDs and whatnot.
If you expect to get the same treatment, that also implies that you have to give up your status as "special." That means that you can't grab girls breasts because, o, you're not attracted to them so it's alright. It means that you can't say, "O you wouldn't understand. It's not the same at all. You could never possibly be in my position." What? You mean demonized for what you are? What you are born as? Misunderstood? Really? You don't say. So, being a racial minority means absolutely nothing. Or the child of immigrants who disapprove of nearly every decision you make because it's not "traditional." Being disowned for marrying someone that isn't of one's own racial background? Or for getting a tattoo? A black guy who people automatically avoid because they think they might get mugged, is that not just as wrong?

"Being gay is a big part of my life. You wouldn't get it." Well, being Chinese-American is a big part of my life. You cry when you watch Brokeback Mountain. I cry when I watch Joy Luck Club.

I really don't get it. People are so PC about it all, tiptoe-ing around some mindlessly angry people who want to rile things. GLAAD criticizing Perez for calling a guy a faggot. Yes, the guy was an ass, and happened to be gay. If a woman is awful, we call her a bitch because she's an ass and happens to be a woman. Is it not the same? Is it not just as offensive? We still live in a world of sexism, too, but why do we take more offense towards things regarding homosexuality?

O and I can't stand people who think they're special because they have a gay friend. Congratulations! Do you feel special for having a black friend too?

Snail's Pace

I went out to dinner last night with Axel and his buddies. One's a filmmaker, another is a...uh...photographer, and another is a stylist for a new t.v. show that's coming out on Bravo. They were telling all their stories - "Man, we got a flat tire in the middle of the Arizona desert while we were on a gravel road!" or "They told me to put on a bikini and hop into the pool to fix the model's clothing while she was in the water!"

"So, Angela, what's up with you lately?"

"Same old, same old. Looking at stairs these days," to which Axel quips, "Oo, you've been promoted from doorknobs, I see." How boring is that? I won't have anything fantastic that's job related until one of the buildings that I'm working on is finally completed. I figure nothing until the end of next year. Architecture seems so boring sometimes...

Witness Roommate Suck

I'm pissed. I'm so pissed I can't sleep and I have to wake up in 5 hours.

I was just cleaning the apartment. I killed 2 flies that Michael let in. Then I scrubbed the shower clean, including the mildewed curtain which is mildewed because Michael always scrunches it up. Then I washed all the dishes that Michael left in the sink. Then I scrubbed the stove, above and below and the top of the oven. I did the last two while talking on the phone with Axel who happened to call and wanted to rant about his awful day.

Then I turn around and Michael glares at me and snaps, "It's rude to talk on the phone in the common area, you know," and stomps off like I just called his mom a whore or something. Offended, I go into my room and plop down on my bed feeling like I'D been grounded. I open up my email and what does it say? "I would have happily done the dishes not to have to listen to a conversation while I have to iron and then feel banished from the common area." GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, WAS I NOT JUST CLEANING UP HIS GODDAMN INFESTATION?!! IS IT NOT A FUCKING COMMON ROOM WHERE ONE CAN DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS? FINE GOODDAMMIT, NEXT TIME I WON'T BOTHER MULTI-TASKING AND LET IT ALL GO TO ROT BECAUSE WHILE YOU SAY YOU'LL DO THE FUCKING DISHES, YOU NEVER DO! MY HANDS ARE SPLIT AND BLEEDING AND I'M STILL FUCKING DOING THE DISHES BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANYMORE VERMIN COMING IN AND FINDING IT A NICE PLACE TO LIVE.

I want to move out. So bad.

I Need a Vacation

Since summer hours started at my office, I feel like I've been working non-stop, and doing stuff on weekends, non-stop. The theory is that we work 11 hour days Monday through Thursday, and then we get three day weekends every weekend. The reality is I work those days, stay a half hour late most of the time, and then I come in to work on the quilt project on Fridays, which, by the way, seems to have turned into my quilt project as everyone else seems to have forgotten they've committed themselves to an act of community service and are off frolicking while I'm cutting out patches and swimming through dusty fabric. I also happen to currently have that delightful psoriasis on my hands that make them itchy and then so bone dry they crack if I grip anything too hard.

Anyhoo...this past weekend was spend on a huge road trip with the family. Daddy had to back out, unfortunately, because he threw out his back. This left me, mom and May. We didn't trust Mom to drive at all since she and my aunt would just gabble away and Mom would lose track of where she was, and I don't drive, so that left May. Poor May had to drive allllll the way to Boston, up to Maine, back to Boston and then back to Connecticut. Poor her. She was passed out by 10pm on the second night. It was fun though. We went with my aunt, Nini, Nini's boyfriend, and Lily. We saw an artist colony in Boston, an art museum outside of Boston, went outlet shopping in Maine, walked around Porstmouth, NH and had lobster rolls in Maine. Overall a fun trip. I think Mom was annoyed at how Lily would sleep in so late every morning, though.

When we got back to Connecticut, we had a big barbecue. Dad, hobbling around, grilled a whole bunch of New York Strip steaks. His big brother and big brother's wife came, my mom's cousin with the whole family came, and everyone just chatted and ate until it was time for me and May to go to bed...since we're the only ones working...Days like that, I'm glad I come from a big family.

Last night, Axel and I went and watched a movie and then went out for Cuban food. After that, we went back to his place where he at one point grabbed/pinched my tummy which is more than a little bigger than usual and asked if that was my lobster roll. I have now nicknamed my pudge "Lobster Roll." Must lose Lobster Roll. Must work out more...

I'm being kidnapped by my family this weekend. We're going all around Massachusetts and Maine to look at antiques, eat lobsters and go outlet shopping. Sadly, I don't care for the first two, but the last is reason enough. I love clothes. I want to have more pretty dresses. Axel accused my family of luring me away from him with promises of seafood and called me a food slut. Nicely, of course.

In other news, it's my work anniversary. I've officially been employed at H3 Hardy Collaboration for a full year. Yay!