Well, the situation is improving, albeit at the pace of a moving glacier. My copious insecurities have led me to believe that my entire floor despises my guts, but I pray to Christ that isn't the case. Giggling at them annoyingly for a few minutes shouldn't result in complete ostracization, right? It's all I can hope for.
Still, I'm beginning to hammer out a semblance of a routine. I have a few assignments for the week, all of which look incredibly simplistic, and I have a bit of housekeeping to finish (Get Xbox Live running, somehow convince the floor to focus their undying hatreds elsewhere, getting textbooks, cleaning the biological weapons that is my dirty laundry). But for the most part, it's mostly go to class, stave off starvation, come home, go to the gym, watch a movie, do work, watch TV. Like the lifestyle I used to lead before I came to this sunny bastion of insecurity and rivers made of alcohol, this one is inherently hedonistic and self-centered, just the way I like it. Of course, there will be occasions when cosmic rays will affect me and compel me to hang out with people. Plus, there are certain quotas that must be fulfilled, which is what Isla Vista is for.
My continued inability to relate to other human beings out of sheer disgust and disappointment has still contributed to a feeling of homesickness so thick, you could make a nice curd out of it. But we all must pay the piper and condemn ourselves to a nice fat plate of misery before we get a nice trifle for desert. Somehow, this metaphor still fits in the context of what I was talking about, but at this point I don't quite care any more.
PS. Man, this jungle juice sure is good AUUUUGGHH VOMIT
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