Personally.

Personally, I love this house. I love the number of people we managed to rack up who are cool and friendly and helpful and understanding. Who like me (miraculously) and, for the most part, get along with everyone else. I am so very proud to be part of the second oldest student housing coop ever. I love our porch swing, our trampoline, our sticky kitchen, our cluttered basement, our “Pleasure Parlor”, our useless red lamppost, our crooked mail cubbyholes, our ever-so-slightly damaged large-screen TV, and our doorless garage behind our big old dumpster. I am so very, very glad I moved in here this past summer and stayed on for the school year, and I would not have it any other way.

Unfortunately, there are a few distinct reasons why I would have no problem leaving this particular house for another coop. Bluntly put, they are: pregame parties, asshole parties, and Emily.

The first two need no going over. Who doesn’t enjoy the ability to sleep in past 9 or 10 a.m. on a Saturday? I used to take that for granted, until football season rolled around this year. I just don’t want to deal with that. Same with the asshole parties. Parties, themselves, are awesome. But some jackasses, figuring that they are surrounded by other students who are, by reputation and principle, almost guaranteed not to say anything about it (let alone take actions such as noise complaints), take advantage by blasting their retarded-as-fuck music unbearably loud. It’s abrasive, it’s inconsiderate, it’s unnecessary, and I don’t feel my demeanor need be clouded by the thoughts of murder and karma that pass through my head whenever such jackoffs remind me of their residence a few houses down.

But then there’s Emily. It’s so bad that all who have encountered her know exactly who I’m talking about when I mention her name in context with the house. There are two parts to the issue that is Emily: 1) she loves this house and the coops. There is no doubt about this, and I daresay this has done us some tremendous good. But this means that, regardless of how much she may have threatened to move out of this house last week, she will not leave. Why? Because she has got her claws in deep. My guess is that Emily does not subscribe to the saying, “If you love something, let it go.” Rather, I imagine Emily is more of the school, ‘If you love something, grab it before it gets away and don’t let it go ’til it’s used up, dead, or hurt you enough that you can think vindictive thoughts about it once you’ve “moved on”.’ 

Basically, in my mind, Owen House Coop = Emily. Fine, so what’s so bad about Emily? She apparently loves the house as much as I do, and I said she’s beneficial, right? Ah yes, I did mention a part two. Here it is; Emily has almost no respect for most people she knows. Perhaps she has respect for the larger-than life figures like Obama or her favorite authors and poets. But we students and house mates? I ca only think of a few people I have seen her show respect for, out of those I have seen her interact with. She will not consider your opinion, she will not think about how her actions are affecting other around her, and she will no hesitate to attempt to manipulate peoples good natures for her own selfish gain.

Examples, I suppose, would be a good way to support some of these outrageous claims. For the issue of respect, exhibit A: Emily wonderfully powerful sound system is loud enough that it causes all doors down the hall to be shut, even though her own door is shut, which creates for her a sound/door combination barrier which discourages communication (making requests to respect others’ peace difficult.) Exhibit B: Emily’s cats. This is not something I, personally, mind so much, but only because I am a cat lover. Emily owns and, affectively, operates her two cats, but she has all her cats’ things outside in the hallway, which is a common area which nobody else uses as their personal space. Exhibit C: Emily’s broken car, which still takes up a parking spot in our lot. he only time she has even shown consideration for the fact that that space could be earning the entire house money if she could only get rid of her useless vehicle was when she wanted to foist a kitten on the house as well. Exhibit D: Missing dinners. It’s all well and good to dispose of three-day-old plates when you’ve got the munchies. But if I want to eat last night’s dinner for lunch today, I should decidedly not have to open the fridge to find someone has eaten  my save plate. I have no proof, but I have heard from Emily, on more than one occasion, the decision, “I’m going to eat someone’s save plate”. This is simply not cool.

Exhibit E: Emily’s unapproachability. Everyone agrees that this is a fact and an issue. Why do I not approach Emily about her car? Because I feel that she will not listen, that my words will be forgotten in five minutes after she goes over them in her head, feeling offended that I would push her to do something. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps all she needs is a reminder, but the way she reacts to the criticism the house has confronted her with in the past leads me to believe that, while my approach would not elicit such an explosive response, it would not move her to change her ways. In addition, she has had all of the semester so far, not to mention the summer, and possibly longer, to get rid of the car, and yet it still graces the asphalt out back. This brings us to Exhibit F: Hypocrisy. She has listed  numerous harsh criticisms regarding our current house president, claiming that she would be a far superior board member, and yet she barely lifts a finger for her own current job.

I could go on with more exhibits. A few were listed at our last, rather disastrous house meeting. It all boils down, in my mind, to respect. I want some. And, because Emily rather flaunts her lack of respect, I would rather do without it.

Thus, I am hoping to sign a contract with Mich or Minnie’s coops on north State Street, far from the stadium, the frats and sororities, and Emily. In addition, I have been assured that Andy, a secret indulgence of my mind, will be staying at the coop for the following year, from Andy himself. Who knows… what will happen…?