I have no voice. Not figuratively. I cannot make any sounds with my vocal chords AT ALL. I am reduced to communicating via white board and crude, made-up sign language. This could not have happened at a worse time because i have a shit ton to say. I'm at the end of various ropes - have been for a minute.
First, Cousin Roommate has been using my car nearly every evening for just about 6 months now. Fine, whatever. He needs a vehicle and his piece of shit is broken all the way down. Has he taken it to be looked at? No. Has he helped me pay for insurance or maintainence? No. Is he saving to buy a new car? No. Does he have a plan at all that involves him not mooching off me for the rest of existence? No again. If he would put more than $6 a week in the gas tank, i might not want to punch his guts out. Every day he takes it, he says he's putting gas in right away. Every time i get in my car the tank is running on fumes. But he just bought himself a sweet new 2nd keyboard to compose on and he stays stoned pretty much 24/7, so bully for him! I guess i'm the asshole.
Then there's my house guest. Six weeks ago, a long-time friend of mine was in a situation up north that was not healthy. He needed to come home for a while. We all encouraged that. He, Thorton, asked if he could stay at our place for a couple (2?) weeks. Still here. No problem. I love the guy, of course i'm going to help him out. He helped me put together a custom work bench for my arting that fits quite nicely in my bay window - AFTER i rage cried in the bathroom because he and Cousin Roommate kept saying they would definitely help me in any way they could as they sat around getting lit, playing guitar and piano respectively, and generally not getting off their asses at all unless they were hungry. So i carried all the lumber to the porch and started doing it myself. At which point, a man certainly stepped because that's a man thing, building. Well, one man stepped in and the other ran to his room. That was 3 weeks ago. I've been able to use my new work space a total of two times. It happens to be behind Thorton's sleeping area. I have two lamp orders i cannot fulfill because the times when i'm not at a job, the space is occupied by mountains of whatever, a bed roll, or the man himself. Also, i am hosting a Halloween party this year and i need to get that room ready. I cannot do so and it's particularly more irritating as the date approaches.
And this work space thing...i spent a considerable amount of time before Thorton even got here designing it. It incorporates all my current furniture and allows for two work spaces and a sitting area. I moved all but one piece of furniture myself, as per usual. I cleaned for many hours and prepped for many more. I got rid of butt loads of useless materials and garbage. After my space was set up (although not organized, see above), Thorton says to me, "Now what i'd really like is for you to do something like that for Cousin Roommate." Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? No one did it for me. Why can't Mr. Humble Genius do it himself, other than being too high to function 90% of the time and utterly lacking any sort of motivation? But, in true door mat fashion, i was determined to figure a way to unfuck his rat-hole-studio using only the furniture i have, save for a custom built topper for my dining room table so it won't get ruined like everything else. I spent more than 3 hours coming up with a work space for two people (so he can have art night with his pal), a sitting area for watching YouTube videos of street fights and epic fails, display space for his paintings and sculptures, storage, AND a space for his keyboard (but now he has two, so that's fucked). I showed the plan to Cousin Roommate and he loved it. All i asked was that he pack up all the shit, clean a bit, and help me when it's time to rearrange. That was almost 2 weeks ago. What's been done? Not. A. Damn. Thing.
On the other hand, when i showed Thorton the plan, his response was, "Well, i was thinking someting more like this", scribbling on my design while explaining a thing wherein i have to get rid of 4 pieces of furniture and disassemble then reassemble 2 more and eliminating all hope of displaying anything or being able to entertain, "so that he has one big giant surface area so i can do animation." Ok. I'm sorry...Charles what now? My mind just sort of broke when he said that. If he thinks he's staying long enough to still be here when Cousin Roommate finally gets his ass moving on this, he better be drawing up plans for bunk beds in his bedroom. I want my gawddamn studio back.
Anyway, all of that was to illustrate how atypical my life is at the moment - and i'm going to quit smoking tomorrow. Because it's killing me. The smokes are killing me and not being able to tell people off is killing me. I'm getting my voice back, for good, even if i become a morbidly obese super bitch. Send good thoughts...please.