Lots of rants with a side of babble
Do you know what I hate? Incompetent drivers. Drivers who come into the library and ask where stupid things are that I have no way of knowing because they are too idolent to look it up themselves.
P (for Patron): Hey, do you know where the driving school is at?
Me: Well, what building is it in?
P: Building?
Me: Did they say what building it’s in?
P: Oh…no.
Me: …
P: So do you know where it’s at?
Me: Why would I? I HAVE my license.
Seriously, what. It’s not that bad of a question, really, except that I get at least TEN people every Saturday morning in here asking it within 7 am - 8 am. No joke, I counted. I mean, how hard is it to…I don’t know, look up the building and number when you schedule your meeting? How difficult is it, really? I do not mind directing you places, people, but when you come in at 7 am and say things like:
P: Hey where’s the driving school?
Me: …what building is it in?
P: Room 103. Is that here?
Me: Well…what…building…is it in?
P: Oh, I don’t know.
It makes me want to throw large sharp objects at you.
God forbid a college campus HAVE MORE THAN ONE 103. We schedule multiple courses on Saturdays, too, because Arizonian drivers are ridiculous jerks who run over unsuspecting bicyclists, but that’s another rant for another day. So don’t give me that asinine you-are-such-an-inept-information-desk-girl look when I can’t magically tell you where the class is. Merde.
I think I've decided to go on protest for the rest of the year. Normally this would mean fliers and petitions and interesting sit-ins but, knowing me, it'll
be more like sitting around and moping.
Wasn't it Ogden Nash who said it was better to sin by doing than to sin by not doing? I suppose. But I wonder if poor Ogden had to take this Comp class. I really, really resent that I have to take it. It's bad enough that the class is ridiculous and covers material I was bored with in freshman year of high school, but now thanks to the collective drudgery of the rest of the class, it's even more regimented and tedious.
I've been acing the class with relatively little effort, despite the constant 'Progress dates' that Professor Hu institutes in order to keep everyone on track. But apparently, this isn't enough, because now she's introduced a new peer-review system (our old system was okay; it was mainly a feedback meeting). We have GUIDLINES on how to grade papers. It's not even funny. Communismposition 102 is so idiotic. Seriously, a protest. I feel like I'm in 9th grade again.
Yesterday I went riding with my little sister to take my brother some personables at his school since he was there working on the sound system for the drama club (all in all, a funny thing. He was doing lighting, which basically consisted of flicking the gym lights on and off and hauling two spots up the retractable bleachers. I nearly had a coronary when I saw it last year. The bleachers vibrate. We're talking heavy and although relatively inexpensive (as compared to stage lights like fresnels) machinery, I mean, instant carnage would occur is anyone stomped too hard. So now he works sound, although I don't know how that happens as he's on the floor in the gym since the school doesn't have an auditorium because they're too busy returfing football fields, but I guess he hooks up mics and things. I miss working theatre something fierce. ASU doesn't really let you take any theatre classes unless you're majoring in it. V. sad.
In related bicycle news, the doctors cleared Dad for the biking trip ♥. I am sort of excited about it in a masochistic way. Not so much about the part that involves a racing bike. Having the worst luck with transportation, I'm pretty sure I will be hit by a Deux Chevaux at least once. Thankfully they're basically made of tin.
Dad fixed up Jake's old racing bike (which used to belong to Mr Ed, and was, coincidentally, a bike he got into a car accident with o_O.) for me to practice on, since I'm the only one in the family who rides a mountain bike. Naturally I am suspicious. It's taken me years to bond with the mountain bike. Things with wheels don't like me. I've been in multiple car accidents (not counting near-misses. Last count was at 7, none were my fault and I was a passenger or outside of the vehicle for all) and I've managed to stay relatively untramautized, although it took me until I was 18 to get my license. I went riding yesterday 'for practice' and the snooty racing bike basically loathes me, I think. It wobbles if I coast at all and later I made a right turn and did a rather spectacular swan dive into the concrete. It was sort of funny and painful. The bike was laughing.