That's What I Thought You Said

If I haven’t mentioned, which I doubt, I tend to be a quiet person in the non-blogospheric world. Put it this way, there are plenty of times when I’ll be watching TV at night, and have to think hard about my day to remember whether or not I actually spoke out loud that day.

I talk all day inside my head. Out loud, though, not so much. I usually come to conclusion that I did indeed talk that day. But just the fact that I need to think about it should let you know how talkative I am.

So when you don’t talk out loud, you talk to yourself all day. Or at least I do. I guess I can’t really speak for other non-speakers, and I doubt I’d ever actually spend time talking to one to find out.

Anyway, I spend my days observing people, and then usually making mean comments about them to myself. I like to think I don’t judge people, but I do. In fact, judging people probably takes up a goof 85 percent of the activity going on in my head most days.

I’m an asshole. That’s really all there is to it. Except some people might not think so because I’m quiet, while others I would imagine think quiet people are assholes because it comes off as smug and acting like you’re better than that person. They are correct. I’d talk more if I found people worthy of my hearing my voice.

And just what to I talk to myself about all day, except when silently insulting others? I play out conversations I’ll never have with other people.

Today I had a doctor’s appointment for a checkup. I guess a yearly one, but I’m not positive. I don’t really remember the last time I went to the doctor before today. Maybe ever over yearly.

Anyway, in the days leading up to my visit I was, of course, playing out all the horrible situations in my head of things the doctor could tell me. Even one involving cancer, where I made a hilarious joke to the doctor and nurses about being somewhat happy because it’ll get rid of all my body hair. I then realized I wasn’t sure if you lose body hair going through chemotherapy. Then I looked it up and read it’s possible to, but not a given. Therefore I’ve once again realized just how much having cancer would suck.

Then I thought what if I’m in such horrible shape the doctor decides he has to give me a stern speaking to. This is what I imagined then.

“Adam, this is serious stuff kiddo. This is you’re health. Do you want to die at 50?”

“Well, if I’ve accomplished everything I’ve wanted to by the time I’m 50, I don’t really think I’d have such a problem with it.”

“And what exactly do you want to accomplish during your life?”

“I want to live to be about 53.”

“What.”

“Yeah, I just always really liked that number, and thought that’d be a nice age to die at.”

“But you just said…”

“What?”

“What?”

Then I imagined he’d look at my like I’m insane and suggest some sort of therapy or drugs to help with my mental illness. Or he’d just stare at my blankly and ask me to leave his office. Then I’d feel proud of myself and die at the age of 43. It’s a win-lose situation if you will.

Also recently, I decided to e-mail my roommate for next year. I don’t know who he is, and I don’t think we’ve ever met. Or if we did, we didn’t know we would one day be roommates.

I didn’t really have anyone to move in with after last year. My one prospect was a friend of mine who lived on the same floor as me last year. He was nice and we hung out fairly often, but he’s also really religious. I just don’t know which religion. He goes to church on Sundays, and celebrates thee Sabbath from Friday night until Saturday afternoon. He also says a prayer before eating. I don’t know. I personally think he’s just throwing shit together from a few different ones, but like I said above, I’m an asshole.

When I brought it up he said he didn’t think he would be able to room with someone because of his Sabbath. He said if we could find somewhere to live where we could have separate bedrooms that would work. I told him he was an idiot (I didn’t, just in case he’s in good with someone up there, but I thought it), because we had already both said we didn’t really plan on moving off campus were planning on staying in the dorms next year. As far as I know, dorms don’t really make two bedroom rooms. Except for suites I guess.

So anyway, he said he was planning on staying in a dorm with all single rooms. I didn’t want to do that. I opted to get a room in one of the newer dorms on campus, and just picked on. Someone else would join the room eventually. My hoping was that if it’s someone just picking a room randomly to go in, they probably were either a loser or just a quiet person as well, and didn’t have anyone to live with. Of course, he could totally be a douchebag too.

I’ve had his name for a good month, but haven’t spoken to him. I decided to send an e-mail just to make an attempt at getting in touch with him, hoping he doesn’t check his school e-mail over the summer and doesn’t have those e-mails forwarded to another address.

I didn’t really know what to write, as I don’t want him to know what an ass I am yet. I think I failed, miserably.

“Hey, this is Adam. If I looked up everything correctly, I believe we’re going to be roommates next year. If not, I guess just disregard this e-mail. But if so, hey I’m Adam and we’re going to be roommates. Just thought I’d try to get in touch with you before we showed up for school in a few weeks.”

As soon as I sent it I was pissed. If he sent me that exact e-mail I would’ve thought he was fucking retarded. I’m positive he thinks that of me. So I plan on wearing a helmet while in the room the first two months before I confess to just writing the first thing I thought of, and at 3:30 in the morning, and then sending it, which wasn’t smart.

Anyway, since I’ve sent it I was wondering what his reaction would be. Of course, I thought the most likely would be that he already called the school about finding a new roommate. Then I thought maybe he’d just not really notice my dumbassery and reply back.

“Hey, yeah we’re going to be roommates. Just don’t make sure not to rub off any of your Jewness on me, Jewboy.”

“Hey, yeah we’re going to room together next year. Don’t talk to me for 8 months, and don’t make any noise while my girlfriend is over, or I’ll kill you. You can watch, even secretly tape us if you want. Hell, if she likes you enough, you can pour some candle wax on her and choke her a little bit.”

“HeY, yEaH wE gOnNa B rOoMaTeZ dIs YeAr. CoOlZ. I hAvE a ToN oF sWeAt PoStErZ I’m PlAnNiNg On BrInGiNg WiT mE. HoPe U dOn’T mInD. LoLz.”

“Hey whitey, don’t get in my way during the year and we won’t have a problem. If you do, though, watch out. I don’t give a shit. I’ll go Reverse Rodney on your ass, suckaaaaaa.” After that I’d imagine he’d do the spinaroony.

That last one is basically because my mom is convinced he’s black because of his name. I’m not, though. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Oh, he did e-mail me back. His response: “Yeah we’re going to be roommates. So how’s your summer going?”

Hmm, sounds well-spoken to me. Just to be sure I e-mailed him back a short story about my summer composed primarily of lyrics from DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince’s “Summertime.” If he notices, I’m going to assume he’s white.