Precious decisions

my neighbor has a new/old roommate that matthew and i can't stand. i've blogged her before as "precious."

i'm in my work bathroom wednesday. i look over out of the corner of my eye at the woman washing her hands next to me. she has more tattoos than the normal college student here, so i'm kind of checking her out. then she surprises me.

"oh hey, i didn't recognize you."

my brain flashed through cue cards of people i know, and i couldn't place her at first. precious. it was precious.

"i didn't know you go to school here?" actually, i know for a fact that she doesn't, and that all of campus is restricted access. now i go through cue cards of what to do in this situation.

"no, i was just using the computer lab to scan my artwork for my portfolio."

major red flag. our art equipment is the most expensive technology investment on campus, but i still can't decide what to do since she's my neighbor and i have to live with her bedroom next to me and all.

me: "oh." god i'm a chicken shit.

"you know i'm going to school in denver in june."

"really, i didn't know that?" this actually hurts my feelings because i know how much the neighbor i'm friends with enjoys living with precious as a roommate. "what are you studying?"

"journalism. i'm going to be a writer."

she's dumb as shit. i'm not kidding. i do know people who are stupider than her, but, really, she's unemployable except in the service industry. i try to take the high road, again, her being my neighbor and all.

"you know my last job was at a newspaper for three years, right?"

"no, i didn't."

"they're literally laying off people by the hundreds. i'm not kidding. it would be really hard to get into journalism right now."

her, blankly: "oh, wow."

since i know she's been illegally trespassing to scan her artwork, i say, "you should consider graphic design. newspapers still like graphic designers because they're less expensive than photographers."

"oh really?"

"also, interactive media," i suddenly realize she doesn't know what that means. "web journalism is still a place where you might get a job."

still, spacey, dumb, like i said. "oh yeah, i was thinking about something with the web."

"something with the web," i think. like i said, she's incredibly stupid. that's like saying "i was thinking about throwing a dart in a map and going wherever it lands, like, you know, the pacific ocean." i know the numbers are hard to quantify, but how many web pages are there? billions? how broad are their scopes? millions?

i'm still trying really hard to be nice to her in this increasingly frustrating bathroom experience. "yeah, web journalism might be right for you if that's what you want to do." wrong. i bet she can barely write a paragraph. here's what matthew and i have imagined precious writing:

“the goverment is bad! there taking away resources for a army campaign in iraq! we dont need guns! we need food for the homeles!”

she might be sort of right, but that would be the total of her argument, and, face it, it's not journalism. at best it's a bad letter to the editor to a free newspaper printed on four pages.

she's none of my concern. i really don't care about her life. i'm not responsible for her actions in any way, but in a decent, human compassion sort of way, i want to help her charitably. telling her that newspapers are hemorrhaging is going to do nothing to stop her from doing something foolish, though.

precious, please listen to me. i know you won't, but please listen--i want you to.