My Guilty Conscience, Broken.

I don't know what it is, but I've been cursed with a guilty conscience. People often ask me if I'm Catholic because of my tendency to say I'm sorry when I've done absolutely nothing wrong. It's a sick habit actually, like I'm publically repenting for nothing whatsoever just to change the subject. I'd prefer to take blame for something rather than get caught up in an argument that has no right or wrong answer. "Fine, you can be right. I'm sorry," is one of my famous lines. It tends to piss people off because they want to keep arguing. So, I guess you could say it works out well. On the other hand, I'm just too nice sometimes. I start thinking, 'Hey, maybe I was wrong. Have I considered all angles of the situation? Maybe there's something I don't see from so and so's perspective." Well, the ol' conscience started sneaking up on me last night, but I stopped it in its tracks. Not this time, buddy.

For some reason, I actually started feeling bad about how I've been talking about my roommate. Maybe I'm being too harsh? Maybe I'm not being sympathetic to his situation? I started feeling sorry for him and his inability to lock down a job. I started empathizing with him, thinking about how I would feel if I was low on money and couldn't find a job. But then it occurred to me that I didn't have a job for 2 months when I moved here, and not once did I consider this grounds to be a rude, condescending asshole to anyone. I was as pleasant as a lotus flower on the Nile in the spring time (summer?). Either way...

Shortly after my self-induced and shortlived guilt trip, I began talking to his girlfriend about my future replacement. My roommate is taking my small room, so I warned her about that as well. It is too stuffy. One of our "applicants" is a med school student. She said she thought that was good because he would be locked in his room all the time, not out in the living room a lot [like me]. I told her that she'll see that it's impossible to stay in my little room all the time since there's no ventilation. Plus, I don't have a TV. It became obvious right there that El Diablo had been complaining about me being in the living room too much. What a dick. I felt the compulsion to apologize for being around all the time, but stopped the feeling in its tracks. I pay over $1,200/month (there, now you know...) to live there. I'll sit on the couch all day if I feel like it. I ventured off into my room at 9:00, vowing not to come back out until this morning.

Good thing too, because, at this point, he started arguing with his girlfriend in front of me about nothing in particular (I think it was about what they would eat for dinner, actually - because that always necessitates a heated argument).

That said, I still hate him. Maybe even more so than I did originally.


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