Random Memory

I find myself, often as I am walking from class to class, coming upon old memories.  They just pop back in because I happened to be pondering the right thoughts to lead me to it.  You know there are memories that recurr often, but then there are those that require a little more directional urging to find it in a hidden drawer. 

 So what memory did I recently come up with? 

I can’t remember it anymore.  Unfortunately. 

I’ve started this blog in aggravation.

I never thought that I would be living in one of those horribly placed apartments above a restaurant, a bar, or worse a karaoke bar.

 I confess, that I still am not, but I do, however, feel very much like I am.  I live in a room.  In this room, I sleep, read, study, watch tv, watch movies, talk on the phone.  I live in a room.  In a room next to what might just as well be a karaoke bar full of drunk people trying to sing.  If you are going to live in a room next to mine, in which there exists only one paper thin wall seperation and two doors in which sound easily slips through, I will be able to be humane and respect your choices in music, but I am a pretty impatient person, by nature.  My bar stops when you play music at 3 o’clock in the morning and then attempt to sing to it.  Or should I clarify?  Are you really attempting to sing to it?  Maybe I should at least point it out to you that the louder you get does not mean you are showing your great affection for a song because I’m sure if the artist heard you singing they would think you were trying to mock their song.  This is just my warning in case you ever do happen upon this situation. 

So I ask that while you may think that screaming our lyrics is a form of patronage to your favorite artist, I find it very blood curdling and your artist may very likely agree with me. 

Goodness… I am bitter.  It just hurts my ears so much.