I am so intensely frustrated right now. So, assignment two for my research methods and stats class… I got 18 out of 20 marks, with a comment saying that I should’ve written more about what I learned. I commented back to the prof, saying the entire goddamned paper was about what I learned. She commented back saying that she wanted to know what ‘new’ things I learned. I thought to myself, it’s rather fucking difficult to learn anything new when this is all just review from my prerequisite stats class… but I kept my mouth shut, and found something ‘new’ to write in my next paper. Apparently, this wasn’t good enough, because she commented back, again, that she wanted to know what new things I’ve learned. Meanwhile, this next paper was marked 16 out of 20, because according to her, it was part of the writing requirement to cite every goddamn page from which my summations were derived. So I checked the assignment page, and the syllabus itself, and nowhere is it stated that I have to be so fucking explicit in my citations. All it says is “discuss” and “relate”, which are very vague terms. So I emailed her back, saying the vagueness of her terms should not be used against me, when all I can do is guess at what she means by “discuss” and “relate”. Further, I let her know that none of this is new to me. Hell, even the fucking textbook says the first eight chapters were foundational information, so it’s only natural that this ‘foundational information’ would be covered in my foundational statistics course.

So, I’m going to speak with the head of the Psych department on Tuesday, with print-outs of the assignments themselves, my syllabus, and my reasoning, to see if I’m wrong in thinking this is total bullshit. In the meantime, I’m going to take to writing my paper as if I’m explaining these rather simple concepts to a retarded fifth grader. Seriously, if she wants me to purposefully insult her intelligence in order to get a good grade, I’ll be more than happy to oblige in the worst ways possible.

This is what I get for trying to be “nice” to my profs, and respect their “authority”. Well, fuck their so-called authority. Now that I know this method doesn’t yield results, I’m sticking with my previous methods of being the bitch-student from hell. You might think that piece of paper means you get instant admiration, lady, but when push comes to shove, I can still wipe my ass with that little grad-school souvenir of yours.

…is not my life. If anyone who stumbles across this blog (or, gasp, follows it closely) is not aware, I am currently pursuing a degree at the University of Kentucky. Though there were a handful of institutions I would have rather attended, I chose this school for no other reason than its geographical accessibility — it was the closest college to my original place of residence. After my first semester, I knew I had made a terrible choice. But I pressed on, keeping my eyes leveled on my goal: a degree. Liking the program in which I’m enrolled, or the people who attend this university, is not as important as graduating.

This semester, however, has been a horrific experience. I have seen so many unsettling things, and I honestly loathe the fact that I have three more school-terms to survive (four, if you count the summer session… and I don’t, just to keep my blood-pressure within normal range).

TL;DR version: If you’re thinking about going to the University of Kentucky, don’t. Do yourself a favor and mark it off your list immediately. If you’re at all interested in reading the reasoning, though… click through.
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According to the USPS, we have a new person living with us here in #83. Some cat called Terrance Johnson. Well, I’m sure this fucker is a nice fella, and I hold nothing against him (which isn’t really readily apparent from the fact that I called him a “fucker” just now, but if he’s old enough to be living outside his parents domain, I suppose he is old enough to technically be a “fucker”). Just drop it in the outbox with a small note that says “wrong fucking address, fucktards”, and that’s the end of that.
Well, until I check the mail today. Nothing for our new “imaginary roomie”, but the mailman saw fit to tag our box with a little card that lists the residents. The first name being this “Johnson” fucker. Then mine and Kev’s. And they misspelled Kev’s name. Now, this in and of itself is not really a big deal, and it is something I imagine I’ll get very much used to in future days, but it was the fact that they fucked it up so badly, AND decided that they were absolutely RIGHT about this Johnson-fucker living here, SO VERY RIGHT about it that they listed him as the FIRST RESIDENT OF THE GODDAMNED RAGE SPIT HATE AND RRRRRRRRRRGH.
Yeah. It just kind of… pissed me off.
So I kind of ripped up the little “residents” card and left them a nice note. Which is much much nicer than the first two (the absolute first being a rather delicious collection of four-letter no-no words).

I hope this is the end of the whole “Johnson” debacle, because the next time this happens, I’ll likely be carted off to jail for defacing a mailbox.

The news of the day isn’t all bad. I finally got around to dropping by sQecial to pick up a carton of cloves. I really wish I could’ve bought a second, but hopefully we’ll find a friendly overseas supplier before we run out entirely.

See this?  It’s snow.  Not only that, but do you see the glare?  On the ground?  From the trees?  Yeah, that’s ice.

That’s ice.

That’s ice, too.

Fuck yeeeah, I love winter!

x______O

Alternatively titled: X-Mess Wrapping.

Final grades are all in.  Two As and two Bs.  Not what I hoped for, but about what I expected.  Actually, if we can be honest here, I expected to do much worse than a B in German, considering just how much I slacked off after midterm.  Actually, I slacked off pretty freakin’ badly in all my classes after midterm.  Half of my SW lectures were slept-through or missed altogether, and I generally skipped Micro when I missed SW.  Didn’t finish required reading in Ecology.  So I should be very satisfied with what I got, and extremely frustrated at how much I didn’t do in order to get those marks.

I could be a better person if I just tried at it.

So now all I have to worry about are the holidays.  I’m still trying to figure out what all I need to pack.  It’s sort of strange that the less I have to pack, the more confused and flustered I get with it… constantly feeling as if I’m forgetting something.

Clothes? Check.  Chargers? Check.  Tits?  Double-check.

I just hope some of the drama simmers down for the holidays.  The forum for which I serve as an admin has had two punches over the last few, one very recently in the way of an article filled with copious amounts of misinformation and flat-out ignorance that directly quoted from us out of context, so I’ve been lurking pretty heavily and trying to put my best-face-forward on that front.  It’s all fun and cupcakes til you realize there are people out there who derive some perverse sense of joy from belittling a peaceful spiritual community.

I’d wager these are folk who try and pretend they didn’t see the Salvation Army bell-ringers when they walk out of a store.  Or worse, pretend they can’t afford to spare a dollar when they’re carrying out $500 in merch for their ungrateful brat-children.

And finally, how wrong is it that 800 miles of latitude separates two temperature ranges by 50F?  Words cannot describe the frustration.