soph

so this here internet cafe I frequent plays absolutely the most atrocious music I've heard since 7th grade dances. somehow it makes it even worse that it's mostly in other languages, for "international flair," I imagine. My roommate is driving me crazier than ever now that I decided to leave (like 2 weeks till a bitchin' house w/ dsl and lots of room and cool people) -- he's just such an ass. he asked me, through the bathroom door while I was peeing last night, if I would rub his shoulders, his neck was stiff. why would I give a shit if his neck is stiff? we're not even friends. is that a callous way for me to feel? when i emerged cautiously and inevitably from the bathroom his door was mostly shut so i just scuttled off to bed as quietly and sneakily as possible and agonized over my own cruelty till I fell asleep.
I've just decided (about 20 minutes ago in fact) that I want to write a book, maybe not fiction because that's just too scary for me right now, but a memoir or the like. why not, you know? If you had to be a "real writer" to write, noone would ever publish anything. and god knows there's mountains upon mountains of painful crap writing out there. I think going to the library and doing research and stuff will be really enjoyable to me.
I'm serious guys, please prod me into actually working on this whenever possible.