Living Away From Home Year 2
(The House From Hell)
Looking back, dorm life was not the worst thing in the world. Sure, it was challenging at times and I lost all semblance of privacy, but overall knowing what I know now, it wasn't a nightmare. However, at the time I was 19 and young and naive and a little wreckless and thought I knew everything, and by second semester of my freshman year, I had had enough of dorm life. So, my roommate, Jessica and I decided we liked each other well enough to live together off campus for our sophomore year. We were big kids now. We found a house that was off campus but still close enough that the walk didn't suck too much. There was precious little parking available on campus, and what little parking was available you had to pay out the wazoo to use, so short walking distance was optimal. The house we found was an 1100 Square foot quaint 1900's house with laundry, and a dishwasher. It was perfect.
|What the house looked like when we pictured it|
-Roommate Jessica: We were randomly paired together freshman year in the dorm and decided we didn't want to kill each other while sharing a room, so sharing a house should be fine, right?
-Brian: You may remember him from my first post on Harvest Moon.
-The Imp: I do not believe I have spoken of The Imp up to this point. There is a reason. The Imp and I dated for about a year and it was bad news bears. We dare not speak his true name.
-Diva: I think the nickname I give her here implies it all, but let's just say we did not part on good terms either.
-Fucking Joe: Brian's friend, and the most spoiled, foul-smelling, inconsiderate prick I have ever had the misfortune of sharing space with.
Shannon: Brian's then-girlfriend's older sister. She was pretty awesome. (You may notice that I have listed more than 5 housemates here. Shannon replaced The Imp when he broke my heart and moved out in the middle of the year. Ass. But I digress...)
|What the house actually looked like|
|I'm this intimidating when I'm mad.|
So, why was this the "House From Hell" you may ask? Was it the obnoxiousness that was Fucking Joe and his slovenly disregard for anyone else or their belongings? Was it Brian's playfull whimsical personality that made him behave like a 12-year old at times? Was it the Diva's better-than-everyone attitude? Was it Roommate Jessica's passive-aggressive way of handling conflict? Was it The Imp's decision to break up with me but keep living in the house for 2 months afterwards? Was it the fact that I was experiencing severe depression, anxiety, and self-esteem issues and not being properly treated for them?
I just listed the ingredients for a miserable year; just mix together, stir, then simmer until explosion. Now, I will say this about the situation: it helped me learn a lot about myself, and it turned me on to a new obsession: ferrets. Three days before The Imp called it quitsies between us, I bought myself a friend. Her name was Gigit, (like the Sally Field TV show) and she was one of the best pets I've ever had.
|Gigit the ferret|
I choose to look back on all of it and say, "Oh yeah, that sucked a little didn't it?" and then I choose to laugh. I laugh because it's ridiculous. I laugh because it's the past and it can't hurt me now. I laugh because we also had good times in the "House From Hell." Like, the Slumber Party Diva hosted. Or the time Brian Jerry-rigged the TV and the Gamecube so we could sit outside on the porch swing and play. Or all of the Friends marathons Roommate Jessica and I would have. Or all the stories that Shannon (The Imp's replacement on the lease) regailed us with stories of her trips abroad. Or finally accepting that The Imp being out of my life was for the best, and I could begin to heal. Or all the love I found and fun I had with my three ferrets (shortly after Gigit, I got her two friends.) Or that one time with Fucking Joe when we...um...yeah, sorry, I don't have any pleasent memories of Fucking Joe. Maybe that's why I still call him Fucking Joe.
|I miss you every day, my furbabies.|
*Nope. I pondered here and there over the course of a few days and couldn't remember. Then, I stumbled across him on Brian's Facebook page and never in 1,000 years would I have remembered Fucking Joe's real last name. But now I can't forget it. Dammit. Damn my curious eyes!