A lesson in suffering

It has been a long time since I wrote a blog on this here little thing. And you know what? It is high time that I make this a regular exercise. I guess it could be called a New Year's resolution of sorts, but really it is just an excuse to rant, to rave, to wave my arms in the air like a madman (metaphorically speaking of course).

So far this new year has been a bit rough. I most certainly hope this is not indicative of things to come, so help me....Anyways, here's the haps: school has been in session for three days and the books I need have not arrived in the mail. I won this scholarship for college books, sweet right? But, since my damned school starts almost a month before everyone else's, a mad rush occurred by the kids at the scholarship, they found my books, bought them and had them shipped via next day air. Here it is four fucking days later and still no fucking books. I am totally at my wits ends as far as that goes. I do understand that I should have given the scholarship people my info earlier (I have a bigtime problem with organization), but what the fuck? Fucking Amazon.com is a bastard enterprise. I vow that you will never get another cent from me. I have emailed the president of the scholarship, and just my luck, he hasn't responded to me. I am so fucking full of rage I want to punch babies.

I have a song that I sing sometimes when I'm at work, and the customer doucebaggery exceeds acceptable levels:

Your life makes me want to punch babies!

In this particular instance, that life would be mine, if you have a baby that would like to be punched, for a small fee i would be happy to oblige you.

So here I am scrambling like crazy to find any copy of Norton Anthology of English Literature volume 2. Who would have thought it would be that fucking hard to find a single copy of that book. The obvious place to look would be the school library right? Well, someone beat me to it. Next step: look at the public library. I did that and the online catalog said there were multiple copies in the library. The truth is that there was not a single fucking copy on the shelf. But luckily I found one, only it was in book delivery, which means in library use only, oh how genius! Except, the Boston Public Library is a monument to all things inefficient and bureaucratic. Imagine that, a Boston instution full of idiotic assholes...sigh. So I fill out the little tag, wait for a book from closed stacks for 25 fucking minutes, just for them to ignore it. I question them, and they hustle about, only to give me the wrong damned book. I tell them they gave me the wrong book, and I am informed they don't have the one I need. Perfect.

I hate that place with crazy homeless people huddled at every table in a crumbling building resembling the very finest craftmanship of soviet Russian architecture. Then heaven forbid you need to copy anything there. I searched for a working copy machine for twenty minutes, only to then pay 15 cents for a shitty, grainy copy. I have a new enemy: Boston Public Library. Oh how i despise you....

Hearts and daggers,

Scot