They're all conspiring against me.
Section 8 wants to do their annual inspection of my apartment during finals, and thinks that I should skip a day's classes for the privilege. Fuck them.
My parents see to it that I never approach or end a semester with a positive outlook. Without their support, I would not be the shadow of a man you [probably don't] know today. I want to make sure that they're getting the credit they deserve.
Our school system is so fucked I don't even have to say fuck them, because I can see someone has already taken the initiative. Finals are hitting me like a truck, like the Great Wave towering over Fuji. How is it possible to triple class workloads in the weeks before finals? Why? It's a sadistic tradition. And stop making me cram 16-18 credits into a 4 1/2 month period. Newsflash (in the form of a question): do I look like a rural farmworker? Not one year of my life did I need to stop school in the summer to help harvest corn. I have never lived further outside the Cities than a ring-1 suburb. You dipshits have managed to see my tuition leap 20 years past the present economy, howzabout you figure out the class schedule for this century?
You know what this rant was originally going to be about? It took me a minute to remember: school fairs. So we're all in it up to our asses with classwork overload, right? So they arrange a CARNIVAL. A carnival to celebrate after getting through finals? NO! A carnival to celebrate how fucked we all are. That's right, there's a carnival tomorrow to help celebrate how much next week is going to suck. THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE MOCKTAILS! Of all the times when non-alcholic just isn't. fucking. appropriate.
I have two more problems with this carnival: #1, if your first email announcement about the carnival (that I've received) just happens to be on the "last day" to buy tickets, well then you're fucking yourself over, aren't you? I don't know about you, but I've spent the last 12 hours at school in classes or in the library, hoping to wedge my neck into some bookshelves as a makeshift guillotine. I didn't get this email until coming home. Folks, for all intents and purposes (read: my sanity) school is closed for the day. I ain't goin' back for no tickets. #2 The carnival is from 10am until 2pm. (stealing straight from Lewis here) I will repeat that: the carnival is from 10am until 2pm. Ladies and gentleman, we're at Normandale Community College. You drive in, you go to class, you get the fuck out of there. And let me tell you something else: lunch doesn't exist at Normandale. That's when they schedule their classes. The 12 o'clock hour is that magical piece in the jigsaw puzzle of your schedule; you choose carefully, because it's what your entire schedule has to revolve around. My chem teacher says he hasn't had lunch in the last dozen years. I sure as hell feel like that. You know when there are musicians playing over the lunch hour? Not a single one of them is a Normandale music student, and not a single music student is listening to them; that's right, we're all in class. The earliest any student recital starts at is 2:30pm; that's as early as one can guarantee that 5 of their peers can actually show up. All those cliquey, whiny bitches in the music department asking about "where will I eat my lunch when they're remodeling the band room?! :shock: :horror: :indignation:" -- I want to slap the shit out of them. "The cafeteria, you retard." Still, they may have a bit of a point.
My name is Tim. I've been up for 19 hours, and to be frank, I could be up for 48 more hours and only then hope to just barely be up on my classes. You'd be surprised just how little of that number is of my own doing. This is my only legitimate break tonight; from here on out, if I'm not doing math, chem, music theory, ear training, or slitting my own wrists, then there's a solution to a problem that I could be addressing.
Oh, and I'm having relationship problems, too. (and on a related note, fuck English grammar.)
In light of all the shit I'm dealing with right now, especially considering all my school shit: the reason I KNOW they're conspiring against me:
From: "Blizzard Entertainment" <Newsletter@email.blizzard.com>
Subject: Try The Burning Crusade for 10 Days, Free!
You bastards.
Section 8 wants to do their annual inspection of my apartment during finals, and thinks that I should skip a day's classes for the privilege. Fuck them.
My parents see to it that I never approach or end a semester with a positive outlook. Without their support, I would not be the shadow of a man you [probably don't] know today. I want to make sure that they're getting the credit they deserve.
Our school system is so fucked I don't even have to say fuck them, because I can see someone has already taken the initiative. Finals are hitting me like a truck, like the Great Wave towering over Fuji. How is it possible to triple class workloads in the weeks before finals? Why? It's a sadistic tradition. And stop making me cram 16-18 credits into a 4 1/2 month period. Newsflash (in the form of a question): do I look like a rural farmworker? Not one year of my life did I need to stop school in the summer to help harvest corn. I have never lived further outside the Cities than a ring-1 suburb. You dipshits have managed to see my tuition leap 20 years past the present economy, howzabout you figure out the class schedule for this century?
You know what this rant was originally going to be about? It took me a minute to remember: school fairs. So we're all in it up to our asses with classwork overload, right? So they arrange a CARNIVAL. A carnival to celebrate after getting through finals? NO! A carnival to celebrate how fucked we all are. That's right, there's a carnival tomorrow to help celebrate how much next week is going to suck. THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE MOCKTAILS! Of all the times when non-alcholic just isn't. fucking. appropriate.
I have two more problems with this carnival: #1, if your first email announcement about the carnival (that I've received) just happens to be on the "last day" to buy tickets, well then you're fucking yourself over, aren't you? I don't know about you, but I've spent the last 12 hours at school in classes or in the library, hoping to wedge my neck into some bookshelves as a makeshift guillotine. I didn't get this email until coming home. Folks, for all intents and purposes (read: my sanity) school is closed for the day. I ain't goin' back for no tickets. #2 The carnival is from 10am until 2pm. (stealing straight from Lewis here) I will repeat that: the carnival is from 10am until 2pm. Ladies and gentleman, we're at Normandale Community College. You drive in, you go to class, you get the fuck out of there. And let me tell you something else: lunch doesn't exist at Normandale. That's when they schedule their classes. The 12 o'clock hour is that magical piece in the jigsaw puzzle of your schedule; you choose carefully, because it's what your entire schedule has to revolve around. My chem teacher says he hasn't had lunch in the last dozen years. I sure as hell feel like that. You know when there are musicians playing over the lunch hour? Not a single one of them is a Normandale music student, and not a single music student is listening to them; that's right, we're all in class. The earliest any student recital starts at is 2:30pm; that's as early as one can guarantee that 5 of their peers can actually show up. All those cliquey, whiny bitches in the music department asking about "where will I eat my lunch when they're remodeling the band room?! :shock: :horror: :indignation:" -- I want to slap the shit out of them. "The cafeteria, you retard." Still, they may have a bit of a point.
My name is Tim. I've been up for 19 hours, and to be frank, I could be up for 48 more hours and only then hope to just barely be up on my classes. You'd be surprised just how little of that number is of my own doing. This is my only legitimate break tonight; from here on out, if I'm not doing math, chem, music theory, ear training, or slitting my own wrists, then there's a solution to a problem that I could be addressing.
Oh, and I'm having relationship problems, too. (and on a related note, fuck English grammar.)
In light of all the shit I'm dealing with right now, especially considering all my school shit: the reason I KNOW they're conspiring against me:
From: "Blizzard Entertainment" <Newsletter@email.blizzard.com>
Subject: Try The Burning Crusade for 10 Days, Free!
You bastards.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
do you hang out at the Muddy Pig? I haven't seen a picture of you in FOREVER but I could've sworn I saw you there.. uhh.. a month ago. if not, I have to apologize to some random dude for staring at him trying to figure out if it was you.
and if it WAS you, there is no excuse to walk in and out of the bar that many times and distract me with your DAMN COAT and your LOOKING LIKE YOU OR NOT YOU.
either way, uh, I like the Muddy Pig.