Two things to get off my chest, and then I will continue working on my article.
1.) I actually wrote “I need some William fucking Faulkner up in here” in my essay notes. Poor Faulkner.
2.) I’m not sure I will know how to write outside of London. Screams of “Bloody hell!” coming from the street seem to motivate me.
3.) OK, 3. I am very distracted by the big pigeon-esque birds that tend to hang out in the rose bushes by the kitchen window. No idea what they are. Not moorhens or magpies. But pigeon shaped, with green necks and about the size of large chickens. And they are too lazy to fly when people walk by. I will not waste time Google-ing “big bird pigeon-esque thing.” Especially while in the library. Because Google safe search is off and some weird "Sesame Street" porn would probably pop up. And I really don’t want that on my server.
4.) Fine, 4 things. My usual carrel was occupied by two greasy undergrads making out. Gross. Get a room. There are rooms here in the library for that kind of thing. Seriously. Plus there’s like, 3 stairwells on this side of the building. One attached to the archives room. No one even goes into the archives room. And, there are no shared rooms in the dorms on campus. Because the British are civilized like that. No one is forced to enter freshmen-hood sharing a room with a complete stranger who may or may not drop acid and bring home a senior with bad facial hair. And then leave said senior in the room as said acid-dropper wanders off to puke somewhere, leaving behind a naïve and sleepy roommate, who brought her teddy bear to school with her so she wouldn’t be lonely, who really just wants to go to sleep and tells the bad-facial-haired senior to get out -- because, seriously, what does he think is going to happen? A threesome? And what kind of guy hooks up with a drugged-out fresher anyway? -- giving the acid-dropping roommate reason to be pissed off when she returns to find her bad-facial-haired Romeo gone and pull the passive-aggressive move of playing really bad Dave Matthews Band music loudly and on repeat. Not that I would know anything about that.
5.) Forget I said 2. Two is dead to us. It’s five now. Maybe more. I don’t know. Anyway. I moved to another study carrel. It’s in the 3rd floor silent study area, and there’s a picture of a very stern older woman taped to the wall giving me a loud “Shhh!!!” I’m sure she’s very proper and British. I’m also sure she hates Dave Matthews Band as much as I do.
6.) In 10 days I leave for America. Actually, I should say the States. Since there is more than one America. I’ll probably get run over by a car there since I now look left instead of right when crossing the street. Except that no one walks in America, so I probably won’t walk across the street. I’m sure someone will drive me across the street in their SUV.
7.) I’ve decided this list should only have 6 things. You’re welcome.
8.) Until now, when it has 8.
Dear rude person in the carrel next to mine:
You are in the silent study room. Why are you watching YouTube? Seriously. Go to the 4th floor. There are kids making-out up there. You can watch YouTube to your hearts content and they’ll never notice. Where is that stern British Shushing lady when you need her?
9.) I would describe to you what this rude person looks like, so that my friends on campus could aid me by ridiculing said person when seen and also be warned to never, ever sit next to him/her when in the library. But then I would feel kinda stalker-ish. Also, like I had minions to do my bidding. But I don’t have minions. Yet.
10.) I actually just wasted time debating which would be a funnier end to that last statement:
“But I don’t have minions. Yet.” OR “Though having minions would be awesome. Sign-up sheet for those wanting to be minions will be posted tomorrow.” Hmm. Actually, I think the latter.
11.) After writing all this over the course of several hours while I actually did do some work, I preceded to go home and explode a bag of Parmesan cheese all over my computer. It’s been that kind of day.
12.) 12, because it has a “2” in it, and that makes me less of a liar in the first sentence of this rant.
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