Evil


Well, the last month has been exciting, in more than one way. I’ve been meaning to post a long rant about the evils of my roommate (who recently lost his mind), but heck, the bullet points speak for themselves, and I’m not in the mood for a rant, so here goes:

  • He was thrown out of Hopkins last May (2007), after signing a lease with me for the year.
  • He eventually decided to come back to Baltimore, to work for some deadbeat games company.
  • He started dating a (clinically, as diagnosed) schizoid woman, who makes up stories and tells them to people. (Hopkins threw her out as well.)
  • Around December, said woman makes up a particularly devastating set of lies about me, and then informs him he can’t be friends with me anymore (this after four years of rooming together.) She also tells all of my friends said lies, in conjunction with her roommate.
  • Things proceed in ever-worse terms until April, when he suddenly moves most of his stuff out in the middle of the night, without warning. He also steals some of my things.
  • In May, he and his girlfriend proceed to institute a reign of terror, vandalizing my apartment, throwing things through my windows, and, after classes were over, destroying a large portion of my clothing. They then threatened the life of my cat, necessitating an emergency moveout of both of us. (Don’t worry; she’s safe, and now in Montana with my parents.)
  • He then proceeded to go to a Dean at Hopkins, lie about his standing, and rant for several hours. (Luckily, said Dean thinks he’s insane; it is often useful to have a working relationship with the administration, and since I’m the leader of two student groups, I’ve tried to cultivate one.)
  • Finally, in a move straight out of Jack Thompson’s playbook, he wrote a letter to my parents, alleging all sorts of horrible things. Fortunately, as my parents were in my apartment as he and his girlfriend proceeded to vandalize it, this didn’t have a lot of impact.

So here it is, dear readers: be careful who you date. They can really screw you up. My parents have always said this, of course, and I know they appreciate my finally agreeing with them. (Though I haven’t had any problems of that sort, it’s a useful object lesson.)

I’ve found even listing the above so downbeat that I’m going to write a second blog post with all the much more fun things that’ve happened in the interim; go read that for how I actually feel.