A rude awakening…

What does it really mean to wake up on the wrong side of the bed? I mean, does my mood for the entire day really count on which side I sleep on, and whereabouts I find myself in slumber? Correct me if I’m wrong but I was under the impression that the entire bed was the ‘right side of the bed’.

So why do people wake up grumpy? I haven’t the foggiest idea, but I could hazard a guess, one that surely rules out all possibility of laying the blame on my bed…

I’m usually quite unphased by the various goings on outside of my room, I tend to shut off when it comes to what my flat-mates may or may not be doing , however every little indiscretion and transgression of mutual consideration throws a little more fuel onto the fires of resentment. And ignoring this will only make matters worse in the long haul. I’m not going to drop names, I’m not going to ‘rat people out’, it simply is not in my nature. But I must express the true extent of the fine line people are currently walking with me; do not mistake me for a fool, one who would wage a ‘flame war’ with all guns blazing. But at the same time do not mistake me for a total pushover, because I’d hate for you to slip this fine line, and plummet down onto the jagged rocks waiting for you below. The day I start a ‘flame war’ with someone is the day I have an incontrovertible stockpile of reason to go in all guns blazing, that is the day you cannot argue with me, because even you will see how much of a prat you have been acting.

So why do I say this? It is quite possibly due to breaking point I am being pushed to. I am currently the only one on the floor that has not yet had a bloody good rant at someone’s face, mainly because that isn’t my style, and my time is generally too precious to insult you thoroughly. If I were to retaliate it would be a conflict of a cunning nature, of guile and of strategy. My lack of any previous conflict gives me something of a cover to work behind, where I could launch a series of ‘accidents’ or ‘mistakes’ that would never lead back to me. I would turn the antagonists against one another if I so wanted to. Of course I won’t, as I am still living here, but it is good to know that I could do so with zero detection. Now I think about it, even if I acted with deliberate disregard and selfish intention (purely to vent a little steam as it were) the antagonists would quickly feel the burn, I could be annoying like you, I’d just do it better…

I was woken up by two things today, two things I did not want to hear. Firstly was an assortment of Rihanna songs being played at an obnoxious volume, with the assailant’s door left wide open for all to hear it. I don’t hate RnB, I just dislike it with a passion, and when someone plays the same songs over and over again day in and day out you can bet your maintenance loan that I will wake up in a foul mood. The other thing was the sound of my awkward acquaintance running up and down the hallways screaming for attention like a juvenile, it vexes me to see a person of my age act this way, especially when it is a recurring theme, and all for attention. Now this unnamed Rihanna enthusiast  and I both know that I have the most powerful stereo on the floor, and I also have the most ‘alternative’ music taste in the entire block. I’d hate for my stereo to accidentally turn itself on at full volume and play an album of Fear Factory, or Bleed The Sky (I love most music, so please don’t be under the impression that I am an obtuse metal head), because I can work with the noise, but I bet you can’t. And I bet that you’d be begging me to turn the music down within the first minute of it drowning out your little speakers, that are limited to an echoed din of plastic sound. I suppose the bigger man walks away, but one day… ONE DAY!

I walk into the kitchen, and what do I find? The Rihanna enthusiast and the juvenile have left a lovely pile of yet again unwashed pots and pans, food all over the surfaces and the hob/grill in a disgusting state. They have this terrible habit of forgetting the kitchen exists once they have had their fill, and leave their mess to stagnate in the warm and humid kitchen air. Naturally the result is gut wrenching, especially when the Rihanna enthusiast has a habit of cooking  fish stews and other equally foul-smelling foods. I’m not condemning her for cooking, that would be out-of-order, no I’m condemning her for not cleaning up the mess! A number of her foodstuffs have been left out in the open for well over two weeks now, which is less than sanitary; I am totally lost when she is confused as to why her food has grown mould spores the size of my hand. I rush to the ‘communal’ toilet, as my throat dries up and my stomach prepares to expel its contents, a much-needed ‘chunder’ is stopped dead in its tracks when I approach the toilet and find the juvenile has once again neglected to clean the toilet, or even flush. The result is nothing short of horrifying. I rush back to my room to collect myself. Bearing in mind I am now beyond waking up on the ‘wrong side of the bed’.

I was unable to obtain the beloved ‘honey waffle’ cereal, a true confectionery gem of a breakfast cereal. Instead I settled for the equally appetising ‘cookie crisp’ (that rekindled some sort of reassuring childhood nostalgia), I go to get some milk, and I find that my milk is not left where it should be, and someone has used some without permission, again. No matter how clearly labelled it is, someone (whom I still haven’t caught) is stealing from me, I know this, because the very same thing had happened whenever I buy sandwich meats, or leave cereal in my pantry. I pray I never catch them, because things would get bloody…

I’m not mad, I’ve had my suspicions, so I make sure I know where I’ve put stuff, and how much of it I have. Some raccoon of a flat mate is pinching my food in small supply (I suspect he or she is doing the same to others). Needless to say I am in a dangerous mood right about now, it is in the best interest of everyone that I am avoided. There are plenty more indiscretions I could rant about, from today, but also from every other day and night. Such as the skin crawling pretence of one individual, who is far too predictable, yet sickeningly untrustworthy. We all have our flaws, I just don’t put mine on a bloody 24/7 parade…

I’m going to stop now, I’d hate for a flatmate to read this, and realise I’m talking about them. It wouldn’t be hard, they know what they’re doing!

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About CVCLNE

Recently graduated from Coventry University BaHons First-Class Media & Communications Complete with a year of studies overseas (Karlstads Universitet, Sweden) Experienced content creator, videography, photography & graphics. For more information contact cyclonerepublic@gmail.com Ask for a digital copy of my portfolio!

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