Dying on a Monday is my least favourite thing.
Today is rubbish. It's rubbish in a way different to how things have been rubbish since Friday. Today was Labor Day or something, which basically just meant they were running weekend timetables on public transport and I was stupidly late to class this morning, which just made me a bit more peeved than I already was. Hercules has taken to napping curled up in bed with me lately, which makes my insides melt into goo, cause KITTY <3 SHE LOVES ME, SHE REALLY LOVES ME. But it also means I get woken up at half six by my beloved wanting to go out. Cue Grumpy Me. Still, I'm persistent and go back to sleep.
This irritation is just the beginning though. Today has nothing on Friday, though. Friday was horrid, but combined with Friday and then Hungover uselessness taking up ALL MY WEEKEND, the little things GET BIGGER.
Like my Screenwriting class. My teacher is wack. I dont like her, but I established this last week. Today, however, she moved from 'a little annoying' into 'IIIII hate you. I really hate you.'
See, we workshop in class. Which means everyone pretends they're able to accept constructive criticism about their work, but in reality offer pretty much nothing in terms of anything useful. I hate workshopping. But according to this woman we have to have a MAXIMUM of three people workshopping in a class when in the story classes, you can have up to six. People dont say very much, really. It's annoying, but she's determined. Which means, apparently that three people have to swap to the Friday class to workshop because we're too full. And of course, naturally Cassie and I manage to be passed the paper LAST and everyone else has filled out all the time slots and the lecturer is like - "You're going to have to swap to Friday's."
WELL THEN. I HAVE TO, DO I?
WANNA BET?
If I bloody well wanted to come in on Fridays I'd have bloody well put that as my preference for this class IN THE FIRST PLACE.
See, I work Fridays. I work all day Friday now. It's a shift I now need cause I'm 21 and working weekends is null and void cause I'm too expensive. I have very little money, and this woman wants me to come in to Uni on the only full day I can work? FUCK OFF.
She had the gall to tell me that the university demands that I attend the class and that working means nothing to the completion of the class. Which is fair enough, but that doesn't mean in the fucking slightest that you can force me to swap a class for six weeks to pretend i give a shit about Sally, Joe and Sarah's scripts about romance and never getting over their parents divorce. I'm sorry, but no. And she didn't give a shit when I said I can't do Friday because that's how I pay rent. No, that's when she pulled out the 'The University doesn't care about that.' card again.
I was one step away from telling her I'd bloody well drop out of the class and choose another elective instead, because I'm bloody well not swapping just because everyone else in the class can't be bothered to wake up a 7am on a Friday when they live at home with Mummy and Daddy and only have a job so they can go out on the lash on the weekend. I wake up that early on a Friday so I can bloody well pay the bills. So that made that class delightful. I now sit in that class mentally compiling a list of the reasons I don't like the woman. I'd start with her shirts, but by Christ they are actually shirts Howard Moon would have in his collection and I simply can't hate those shirts.
Luckily one of the boys, Jamie, piped up and said he'd swap, which made me feel bad, cause he's really earnest and uses twelve sentences that go around in circles to say one thing. It's driven me up the wall in the past classes I've shared with him, but he saved my butt, pretty much, so he gets forgiven.
So yeah, scriptwriting wasn't fun today.
What was even less fun was almost getting hit by a fucking car getting off the tram. I didn't die though, so that's a plus. But it did little for my mood. Nearly dying is my least favourite thing to do. Especially on a Monday. A Monday that should be a public holiday, but isn't because you go to Uni. Still, upside to the afternoon, the little supermarket was open on the way home, so I didn't have to go to the other, further away one. Which would have totally ruined my day completely.
So yeah.
That was today.
Rubbish.
This irritation is just the beginning though. Today has nothing on Friday, though. Friday was horrid, but combined with Friday and then Hungover uselessness taking up ALL MY WEEKEND, the little things GET BIGGER.
Like my Screenwriting class. My teacher is wack. I dont like her, but I established this last week. Today, however, she moved from 'a little annoying' into 'IIIII hate you. I really hate you.'
See, we workshop in class. Which means everyone pretends they're able to accept constructive criticism about their work, but in reality offer pretty much nothing in terms of anything useful. I hate workshopping. But according to this woman we have to have a MAXIMUM of three people workshopping in a class when in the story classes, you can have up to six. People dont say very much, really. It's annoying, but she's determined. Which means, apparently that three people have to swap to the Friday class to workshop because we're too full. And of course, naturally Cassie and I manage to be passed the paper LAST and everyone else has filled out all the time slots and the lecturer is like - "You're going to have to swap to Friday's."
WELL THEN. I HAVE TO, DO I?
WANNA BET?
If I bloody well wanted to come in on Fridays I'd have bloody well put that as my preference for this class IN THE FIRST PLACE.
See, I work Fridays. I work all day Friday now. It's a shift I now need cause I'm 21 and working weekends is null and void cause I'm too expensive. I have very little money, and this woman wants me to come in to Uni on the only full day I can work? FUCK OFF.
She had the gall to tell me that the university demands that I attend the class and that working means nothing to the completion of the class. Which is fair enough, but that doesn't mean in the fucking slightest that you can force me to swap a class for six weeks to pretend i give a shit about Sally, Joe and Sarah's scripts about romance and never getting over their parents divorce. I'm sorry, but no. And she didn't give a shit when I said I can't do Friday because that's how I pay rent. No, that's when she pulled out the 'The University doesn't care about that.' card again.
I was one step away from telling her I'd bloody well drop out of the class and choose another elective instead, because I'm bloody well not swapping just because everyone else in the class can't be bothered to wake up a 7am on a Friday when they live at home with Mummy and Daddy and only have a job so they can go out on the lash on the weekend. I wake up that early on a Friday so I can bloody well pay the bills. So that made that class delightful. I now sit in that class mentally compiling a list of the reasons I don't like the woman. I'd start with her shirts, but by Christ they are actually shirts Howard Moon would have in his collection and I simply can't hate those shirts.
Luckily one of the boys, Jamie, piped up and said he'd swap, which made me feel bad, cause he's really earnest and uses twelve sentences that go around in circles to say one thing. It's driven me up the wall in the past classes I've shared with him, but he saved my butt, pretty much, so he gets forgiven.
So yeah, scriptwriting wasn't fun today.
What was even less fun was almost getting hit by a fucking car getting off the tram. I didn't die though, so that's a plus. But it did little for my mood. Nearly dying is my least favourite thing to do. Especially on a Monday. A Monday that should be a public holiday, but isn't because you go to Uni. Still, upside to the afternoon, the little supermarket was open on the way home, so I didn't have to go to the other, further away one. Which would have totally ruined my day completely.
So yeah.
That was today.
Rubbish.