mercoledì, giugno 21, 2006

Trying hard

Oh, pissy me. The red dragon's approaching. I can feel hard little knots of anger (or maybe gas, but practically speaking it's the same difference) building in my stomach, and I know I've been spoiling for a fight for at least 30 hours already. So I'm going to write at least one positive thing today as the next few entries will probably be sweary catalogues of things I wish would die and stupid things people have said to me, like "Can I ask you a question?" or "I know no-one's interested in this but me, but . . ."

Okay. I must say, I love my job these days. It's so nice to go into the office and enjoy sitting there for the however many billions of hours that had me staring angrily at the clock everywhere else I've ever worked. It's such pleasant work. Pity the pay is so shit and the newsletter is propagandist. But then, aren't they all? I think the pleasantness of this job is one of the things that pushed my subconcious into suddenly informing me we're going back to university if someone gives us the money for it - we know we can't stay here forever, but there's no way we're going back to shitwork, even if it pays us five times as much. It's difficult enough as it is to get out of bed in the morning . . . lovely lovely bed . . .

Alright, there's my gesture to decency. Now let it begin. How the fuck do people get through an undergrad degree without learning how to write a reasonable introduction and conclusion to a paper? And why do they use so many rhetorical questions? How am I supposed to clean that up? Fuck. If you pay tuition do you just get passed automatically, or what? Where's the education? Where's the love? Ah, fuck everything, ever.

6 commenti:

Melbine ha detto...

I forgot what it's like to have the Red Dragon visit...on the one hand I'm annoyed to have it back. On the other, it seems to be balancing out my unbalanced hormones nicely.

Do you get bad physical symptoms or is it the havoc with your emotions only?

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

It's the physical things that annoy me, I actually like being pissed off non-stop for a week on some levels.

Melbine ha detto...

Yeah, there's no anger quite like the fuelled-up menstrual variety. :)

Labour was essentially menstrual cramps that went on and on and on..

Lady ha detto...

as long as i don't get my period this weekend, or during my birthday, it's all good.

mmm bed.

York. i had a prof take a whole tutorial to explain to people how the structure of a sentence works. he had to explain to everyone that he had to dock marks for bad grammar because if you use bad grammar no one will understand what you're saying.

me? i spent my university years (2) wanting to shoot myself or throw myself from a tall building. luckily i had narcotics and really wicked friends.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Mel: I think I could do that. I was talking to my midwife sister-in-law about the possibility of getting on the nitrous for it . . . turns out that's not quite kosher in most hospitals as it steps on the aneasthetist's toes (they aren't needed to administer), but if I go the home birth route I'm sure I could just find my own. Funny how I'm using the first conditional instead of the second conditional about baby popping now.

Lady, who do you keeop telling me edumacation sucks when I obviously think that's horsheshit? If your prof gave a tutorial about the importance of grammar, I can honestly guarantee he probably should have given three, because people, if you haven't noticed, suck at grammar. Too many people go into artsy, formal educamation than *should* because they think they have to or something, but it's silly to blame the edumacation for that.

I love you edumacation . . . please give me money . . .

Melbine ha detto...

The aneasthetist can kiss everyone's ass. If a woman wants nitrous oxide over a huge needle jammed into her spine then that's her prerogative! They're kept busy enough these days with all the c-sections anyways. What do they have to complain about??

Yes, it happens..first conditonal instead of second conditional when thinking about babies. Next thing you know, you'll be popping one out and wondering 8 months later how that thing EVER fit inside you!