Alone Again Or.

I am, as of a few hours ago, once again living on my own. As of yet, I have not really ventured over to the other side of the apartment; there are a lot of nice things over there, like a real desk and an extra couch and a place to sleep that isn't also a couch, but they don't quite feel like they belong to me.
Besides that bit of sentimentality, I pretty much ditched out of doing the "goodbye" thing. This morning as I was getting ready for school, I found out that my roommate wouldn't still be in the city when class ended, as I had originally thought. I said I'd be willing to go to Tokyo to meet him for a farewell dinner, but my heart wasn't really in it. Instead, after school, I sent him a text message to see what his progress was, then coughed myself into a sleep (I've been sick the last few days) that lasted past the point where he'd still have his cell phone; since it's a rental, he had to return it once he finally got to the airport. I did get a reply text, and I will probably write some sort of email before I go to sleep tonight, but right now all I really want is to not hear from or about him for awhile. At least a week, and possibly much longer.
The reason for that is, of course, that the random trouble with my classmate dating my roommate came to a head last weekend. On my birthday, even. I should sit you down sometime and recite the parade of crap my last four or five birthdays have been. It was last year's birthday letdown that brought this blog into being, after all.
Birthday number 24, which consequently feels far older than 23, seemed to go fairly well. I had lunch with seven other people, at least four of whom I was not expecting to show up for the event, and afterwards went to study with two of my classmates. I bought special 'birthday' coffee and a new pair of earrings, and although I didn't get a lot of homework done, it was more productivity than I usually manage on a Sunday. Little did I know, however, that while I was off wandering about the city searching for things I could buy for myself, my roommate and the girl were having a pow-wow about my various evils. Which, to be fair, I guess I am sort of evil, some of the time, maybe. I did tell my roommate that there was a good chance this girl was emotionally messy/crazy, after all, and that is not a terribly nice thing to say. In my defense, however, I was totally right: anyone over the age of 15 who thinks that Facebook is a good venue for expressing anger is at least a little cracked.
This whole "Amy-sucks-let's-badmouth-her-together" party had, of course, some negative consequences for me. Now, for instance, I am on tiptoes when walking around school, lest I have some awkward run-in in the bathroom or near the fridge with my 'nemesis'. One of her close friends also seems to not like me anymore, which is too bad, because I thought he was a pretty decent guy. I am also sort of nervous about being badmouthed to more people. I don't exactly know how to run an anti-smear campaign. I feel like I should start bringing homemade snacks to school and leaving them in the kitchenette area, just to be on the safe side.
Another wonderful side to this story is that my roommate didn't tell me himself that he had decided he disliked me. Instead, I heard about it 3rd-hand, via text, something like six days after the fact. I was home at the time after having stayed in sick, and my roommate was sitting at his computer. After I read the text and double-checked by calling the sender, I reacted by starting to throw everything of my roommate's I could reach out of the apartment. This ended up just being his shoes, as they were closest to the door. I threw a shoe, looked to see if my roommate had noticed, then threw another shoe or two. My apartment is on the second floor, and I threw eight shoes, so you think he would have heard or seen something. But, no. Talk about the internet degrading the quality of human relationships.
After the failure of my shoe assault, I yelled at him to get out of my house and never talk to me again, but it turns out that that only works if the person is prone to listening to you when you tell them things. This particular boy is not, so instead he stayed in his seat, and we ended up "talking about it". Nothing really kills the joy of a righteous indignation like having to explain yourself.
In the end, he didn't leave, at least not for three more days (which brings us to today). He also promised to try to fix things between me and my classmate, at least to the point where I don't have to fear getting shanked in the school bathroom. He hasn't done that yet, of course, and the mode was downgraded from a face-to-face meeting to an email he promises to send, but.... At this point, would you expect any better?

If there is one positive outcome out of this whole nonsense, it would have to be that I am finding myself much more drawn to boys who seem both nice and as if they have their shit together, rather than the usual "please fix me" types I seem to gravitate towards. It's about fucking time, right?