…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.
Read more

Read more

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

Not in general, but perhaps about the College of Social Work, and what I’ve observed within it.  And what I’ve observed, so far, is that these people are fucking douchebags.  Have a complaint about how business is conducted?  Bitch while you can, hope some people listen, before the complaint is wiped from the record completely.  Looking for help?  Ask away, but expect condescending remarks directly after your problem is addressed.  I think I might be at the wrong fucking University for this sort of program, if this is what peer-support is like.  Peer support in fucking Social Work for chrissakes… you know, a field of work where you’re supposed to, oh, I don’t know, help people?  Nurture and support those in need?  Be an advocate for small voices?  Right.  Right…

I realize I’ve been rather hypersensitive over the last few, but I think this would grate my nerves under the swellest of circumstances.  Maybe not to this extent… the extent of thinking of changing schools or perhaps even major… if I am indeed going for my Master’s, why not just do Psychology?  The only reason I decided on Social Work was so I could find BA-level employment, after all, where a BA in Psychology would have me as good as flipping burgers.  BUT… yeah, that’s something to think about when I’m not so hypersensitive and pissed off at the world.

Then again… maybe I should consider it before I commit myself to potentially useless classes next semester.

Therefore, I am IMPORTANT. I have a BLOG and EVERYTHING. I have screennames that are in no way related to my true identity, therefore I can BE AN ASSHOLE to EVERYONE. I can SCREAM at you from a distance, when I would never really do that in person. I can call you a coward, or an idiot, or a crazy-person with a false-sense of superiority, when in reality I’m just PROJECTING my problems on to YOU.  My banter is INTELLIGENT.  Anyone who disagrees is STUPID.  And you’re probably stupid because you’re CHRISTIAN, or maybe AMERICAN.  God help you if you’re BOTH, you sorry sack of crap.

People talk about the online community as if it’s the new reality, the better world, bridging gaps and connecting people all around the world, when in reality, it’s (in some ways) much worse than the reality we have.  And this really makes me all sorts of sick inside.  I hate how easy it is to get big-pants syndrome around here… and how compelled one feels to vehemently defend their entirely imaginary position in cyberlife.  This isn’t what it’s supposed to be, is it?  Or has my brain been entirely rotted by cyberculture idealism?  Because I used to believe in this place once.  I used to believe The Open Forum would be a beautiful idea, where we could meet and exchange ideas as mature people.  But all I generally see are immature fucktards with bad grammar, and the equally immature “educated idiots” flaming the hell out of them, laying waste to whatever claim to “intelligence” they may have had before.

God, I just want to punch you in the face sometimes.

…eh, see?  I guess I’m not much better.
Just a product of my (e)nvironment.