I need to write this through to organize the thoughts in my head.

For the last two years, I've been living with my roommate C. We have a two-bedroom apartment with bath, living room, and kitchen. It's not very big, and it's almost small. Really, it's just enough.

In light of upcoming changes--my (hopeful) transfer to UC Berkeley, and changes in myself, emotionally, towards adulthood--I was feeling the need for a change of space. This didn't quite register consciously, but when my friend Christianna suggested we find an apartment together close to campus, I was hesitantly for it. There were pros, but also cons. We kind of started looking, but I found that my reasons to stay in this apartment were stronger than the reasons to move out.

1: I'm kind of attached to it. I really like it. I have history here. 2: My parents own this house. (My apartment is the upper half.) Rent is free for me. They would undoubtedly pay my rent if I wanted to live somewhere else for college, BUT they would then rent this apartment out to someone else, and I would lose the option to come back to a rent-free (or dirt-cheap) place after college. Living here would afford me a lot of flexibility in finding the RIGHT job (and not just A job). I would be a fool to pass on that. 3: The pros for me moving to Berkeley were kind of weak. Alameda is actually the perfect location for me. 4: My parents are constantly improving the apartment, partly because I'm in it, and partly because it just generally ups the value. It becomes a better and better place to live all the time, and I can do just about anything to it that I want (paint on the walls, have my dad build stuff in). It's just a matter of asking my parents, rather than negotiating with the landlord.

You see why I should stay here. But after having seriously contemplated the possibility of change, my mind was open to it. And I realized that something about my current situation wasn't suiting me. It all seemed to boil down to living with my roommate. And I told him, gently but without elaboration, that I would like to live here alone.

There are things about our cohabitation that really bother me. His standards of cleanliness versus mine (mine, I feel, are higher). The way his many large musical instruments are kind of all over the place. The way he never seems to try to put anything in its proper place. Anytime something like this comes up (all the time), it galls me to some degree. But I rarely, if ever, express my annoyance. I am decidedly passive-agressive. I have a dominant personality in that I want there to be an order to things, and in my mind I hold some strict guidelines that something must be done this way. Of course, I never formally lay down the rules. That doesn't gel with my image of myself as 'laid-back and non-demanding'. Yet they exist in my mind just the same. And when C breaks these rules (as he must, for how could he know?), I am annoyed.

However, I never saw myself as unreasonable. I always assumed that the behavior I wanted of him was a product of common sense, and so should come naturally. If I organized an area, giving things a proper place, I would assume--in consideration of the fact that I organized it for a reason--that he should put things back where he found them. And since I am the only one who organizes things around here, I would expect that he could go with the flow of that. But he quickly and consistently undoes my efforts without a thought to it. It's not like he's malicious, it's just that he is not conscientious.

His point of view: How is he supposed to know that I want things that way?

My point of view: It should be obvious that I want things that way because I took the effort to make them that way.

I am not wrong, he is not wrong, it's just that we are not on the same frequency. And I push down my annoyance at this because I am patient, and tolerant, and moreover, 'I am not supposed to be annoyed.' I am supposed to be 'chill'. I'm 'cool wit dat'.

I am not cool wit dat. And it leads to a lot of pent up anger and frustration. And by the time it surfaces enough to get my attention, it is big enough to be unreasonable should I let him have it. It would catch him off-guard and put him on the defensive, because I swear there are times when I am SHOUTING in my head, cussing and being a demanding bitch. It would be way out of line for any one thing; even a calm iteration of that would seem a little heavy all at once. It is two years of small trespasses; two years of frustrated anger that there is HONEY on the handle of the fridge. What the fuck. Does he lotion his hands with it and not wipe them? Why does he not wipe his hands. That's fucking gross, and I have to deal with it because HE doesn't care, and I don't want to have to tell him to clean it up. What am I, his mom? That is not my job. His job is to take care of OUR house because it is supposed to be easy to live in your own house and you are not supposed to make it hard and dirty and gross for your roommates. I am really really trying, I feel like I am REALLY REALLY TRYING. It's like I'm living with a kid, it's like I'm living with a FUCKING kid. I don't want to have to train him to be CLEAN. What the fuck. I don't have time for that shit. I should not have to deal with this. I DO NOT have to deal with this.

I get like that sometimes. Just looking at the full magnitude of all I've kept in makes me want to cry. I don't know for what. Because I'm repressing myself? Because I feel helpless to change the situation?

Because I feel helpless to change the situation. I think I was hoping all along that he would up and leave on his own. But the thought of sitting tight and waiting for that to happen fills me with despair. I am a nice person. I do not like the idea of asking C to leave. But I did, and everyone is confused.

I gave him reasons like 'I felt that it was time for a change'; 'The place just seems too small for us to be comfortable sharing it'; and 'I'd like more space for art.' All of which are true. But that is not the whole of it and it is obvious I'm holding back.

And then perhaps, just perhaps, there is the idea that I am being selfish; that I am kicking him out because I can and it would be so fun to have all that space to myself, and I'd have everything my way. You think that's part of it? That's probably part of it. I can't help that this is true.

So, I am going to make dinner for the two of us, a dinner over which we can talk. And I will try to say something useful.

1:29 a.m. 2004-04-09�