Dear Arriva
you can go fuck yourselfs, seriously. 12 hours is a tortuous amount of time to make people wait for a fucking train.
Love
Jackie and Komal
and Catrina, and Gary
except Gary didn't have to wait that long, so not really.
Monday 28 February 2011
Wednesday 23 February 2011
Tuesday 22 February 2011
Dear Gmail
Dear once-heralded Interwebz email provider,
I want to love you, I really do. But goddamn it Gmail, when you tell me I can successfully link my various academic email accounts with no problems you really oughta deliver. At first, like most torrid affairs, you fetched me my documents like a doting lovebird. Where did we go wrong? Apparently, you have NOT been fetching various important emails, e.g. security reminders, credit notifications, and family how-are-ya's. Of course, you have brought me some: spam and useless club reminders. (I'm very far away, Gmail; I don't need to know when the snowboard club is having its next meeting.) But fetching nothing would have been far too obvious, and that's what this all really boils down to, right Gmail? Lies and cowardly deceit! Well I won't let you hurt me anymore! You get one more chance (cus I still like your useful, attractive interface), but any more screw-ups and I'm done. Thanks.
Love,
Labour's Lost (get it? god, I'm clever :] )
I want to love you, I really do. But goddamn it Gmail, when you tell me I can successfully link my various academic email accounts with no problems you really oughta deliver. At first, like most torrid affairs, you fetched me my documents like a doting lovebird. Where did we go wrong? Apparently, you have NOT been fetching various important emails, e.g. security reminders, credit notifications, and family how-are-ya's. Of course, you have brought me some: spam and useless club reminders. (I'm very far away, Gmail; I don't need to know when the snowboard club is having its next meeting.) But fetching nothing would have been far too obvious, and that's what this all really boils down to, right Gmail? Lies and cowardly deceit! Well I won't let you hurt me anymore! You get one more chance (cus I still like your useful, attractive interface), but any more screw-ups and I'm done. Thanks.
Love,
Labour's Lost (get it? god, I'm clever :] )
Dear Flatmates
Dear Flatmates of Hardcastle 4:
Thanks for keeping up with the obnoxious slamming of the kitchen door until 4am. Thanks also for the wonderful mess in the kitchen (I wish I could use the sink and not have to deal with a clogged murky mess-o'-a-thing). But thanks most of all for apparently throwing eggs and bottles out the kitchen window and getting me put under investigation. That's exactly what I need: no sleep and having to look over my shoulder for unmarked vans. I do hope we can resolve this problem without deportation slash/ uncalled-for banishment. 'Til then, regards.
Love,
International Room A
Thanks for keeping up with the obnoxious slamming of the kitchen door until 4am. Thanks also for the wonderful mess in the kitchen (I wish I could use the sink and not have to deal with a clogged murky mess-o'-a-thing). But thanks most of all for apparently throwing eggs and bottles out the kitchen window and getting me put under investigation. That's exactly what I need: no sleep and having to look over my shoulder for unmarked vans. I do hope we can resolve this problem without deportation slash/ uncalled-for banishment. 'Til then, regards.
Love,
International Room A
Friday 18 February 2011
Dear Goldsmiths/Arcadia
Dear Goldsmiths/Arcadia,
Once again, thank you SO much for not telling us something important. Like, oh, I don't know, the fact that we have RAs here? The only reason we found out is because we got in trouble, and some chick walked in the flat telling us to STFU. Good thing she did, because we ended up needing to sic her on some other assholes later that week. Bitches.
Love,
Jackie and Komal
Once again, thank you SO much for not telling us something important. Like, oh, I don't know, the fact that we have RAs here? The only reason we found out is because we got in trouble, and some chick walked in the flat telling us to STFU. Good thing she did, because we ended up needing to sic her on some other assholes later that week. Bitches.
Love,
Jackie and Komal
Wednesday 16 February 2011
Dear Birds
Dear Birds Outside My Window,
It is 2:40 am. The sun is not yet up, nor will it be for another four hours or so. Please shut the FUCK up and let me sleep.
Love,
Jackie
It is 2:40 am. The sun is not yet up, nor will it be for another four hours or so. Please shut the FUCK up and let me sleep.
Love,
Jackie
Sunday 13 February 2011
Dear Arcadia/Goldsmiths
Dear Arcadia and Goldsmiths Academic Advisors/Staff
I just really really want to thank you for screwing me over royally. I love the fact that I had signed up for 5 classes that were not first year courses and that actually could help me graduate but instead you put me in only one of those, and proceeded to put me in only another 3, sorry, 2 other courses. Neither of which really has any relevance to what I'm going to be doing with my degree. Also I mentioned that it was not infact 3 courses but 2, because yes you geniuses put me in the same class twice. Bravo! No really bang up job you fucking wankers. So what am I now supposed to do for the rest of the term, and when I go back to the States?! Becuase remember I didn't sign up for these courses nor do I want to take them now, but was I given any options, no, I wasn't. Then you also tell me that I one of the courses I had signed up for, I was in, 4 weeks in I find out and the prof ws just like, nope you've missed to much and I took you off my register. Great. Superb. Glad I'm wasting my time, energy, money, and life.
Love
Komal
I just really really want to thank you for screwing me over royally. I love the fact that I had signed up for 5 classes that were not first year courses and that actually could help me graduate but instead you put me in only one of those, and proceeded to put me in only another 3, sorry, 2 other courses. Neither of which really has any relevance to what I'm going to be doing with my degree. Also I mentioned that it was not infact 3 courses but 2, because yes you geniuses put me in the same class twice. Bravo! No really bang up job you fucking wankers. So what am I now supposed to do for the rest of the term, and when I go back to the States?! Becuase remember I didn't sign up for these courses nor do I want to take them now, but was I given any options, no, I wasn't. Then you also tell me that I one of the courses I had signed up for, I was in, 4 weeks in I find out and the prof ws just like, nope you've missed to much and I took you off my register. Great. Superb. Glad I'm wasting my time, energy, money, and life.
Love
Komal
Friday 11 February 2011
Dear Shower Drain
Dear Inanimate Shower Drain,
The water company is doing a fine job of providing my bathroom with water. The (likewise inanimate) shower head, fresh and squeaky clean, is doing a noteworthy job of transferring the water to me and to the space between the pipes and the floor. I as well, my pride put to the side for a moment, am doing my job of enacting a thorough self-hygiene initiative. From there, Mr. Shower Drain, there seems to be a miscommunication, a "weak link in the chain," if you will. The water is not supposed to be sent merrily along to the non-showering portions of the bathroom. Laziness is a shame and should be an executable offense. Pick up the slack, Mr. Shower Drain, or I am afraid I'm going to have to look elsewhere for my water removal needs (buckets and sham-wows come immediately to mind). I look forward to your swift response, and have a great day.
Love,
'It's Pouring Inside Loring' a.k.a. 'I'm a Poet and You Know Damn Well that I know It'
The water company is doing a fine job of providing my bathroom with water. The (likewise inanimate) shower head, fresh and squeaky clean, is doing a noteworthy job of transferring the water to me and to the space between the pipes and the floor. I as well, my pride put to the side for a moment, am doing my job of enacting a thorough self-hygiene initiative. From there, Mr. Shower Drain, there seems to be a miscommunication, a "weak link in the chain," if you will. The water is not supposed to be sent merrily along to the non-showering portions of the bathroom. Laziness is a shame and should be an executable offense. Pick up the slack, Mr. Shower Drain, or I am afraid I'm going to have to look elsewhere for my water removal needs (buckets and sham-wows come immediately to mind). I look forward to your swift response, and have a great day.
Love,
'It's Pouring Inside Loring' a.k.a. 'I'm a Poet and You Know Damn Well that I know It'
Tuesday 8 February 2011
Dear Flatmates
Dear my flatmates
I have expressed countless times that I am allergic to cigarette smoke, yet you all insist on smoking inside. Please, or at least smoke out of the window in the kitchen, that would be wonderful.
Love
My lungs, and throat, and nose, and all other vital organs that you are slowly destroying
p.s. they really don't need the help.
I have expressed countless times that I am allergic to cigarette smoke, yet you all insist on smoking inside. Please, or at least smoke out of the window in the kitchen, that would be wonderful.
Love
My lungs, and throat, and nose, and all other vital organs that you are slowly destroying
p.s. they really don't need the help.
Dear Face
Dear My Face,
Okay, seriously. We've been in the country for a month now. It's time for you to finish adjusting to the new water and stop breaking out. I'd like to not look like a pizzaface for the entire time I'm here. In return, I promise to sleep more and treat you nicely - I'll even use extra moisturizer so you're not quite so scaly looking! Just please, for the love of all that is good and zit-free... Stop breaking out so dang much. Pretty please?
Love,
-Jackie
Okay, seriously. We've been in the country for a month now. It's time for you to finish adjusting to the new water and stop breaking out. I'd like to not look like a pizzaface for the entire time I'm here. In return, I promise to sleep more and treat you nicely - I'll even use extra moisturizer so you're not quite so scaly looking! Just please, for the love of all that is good and zit-free... Stop breaking out so dang much. Pretty please?
Love,
-Jackie
Monday 7 February 2011
Dear Designers of the faucets
Dear Faucet Makers/Designers Who ever you are
Seriously whose fucking idea was it to separate the hot and cold water so that when doing dishes or anything else in those sinks you are forced to choose between scalding your hands or freezing your hands. I mean really. Worst idea ever!
Love Komal
Seriously whose fucking idea was it to separate the hot and cold water so that when doing dishes or anything else in those sinks you are forced to choose between scalding your hands or freezing your hands. I mean really. Worst idea ever!
Love Komal
Friday 4 February 2011
Dear Goldsmiths, University of Etc...
Dear Goldsmiths and the fabulous English Department,
So far, there have been three weeks of classes and, surprise surprise, three weeks of royally screwing me over. Fiction has been cool and anthropology uneventful (likewise, Shakespeare, as one would suspect, doesn't change much in this modern day), but then comes glorious Friday mornings. Bright and early (or just early if it suits your fancy - thanks London), I've walked to Approaches to Text, a lecture of perhaps hundreds of English students attempting to learn God-knows-what.
The first lecture, two weeks ago this morning, was cancelled. There was no obligatory email from an intellectual official of higher learning. There was no professor ('lecturer' does seem like the proper and necessary step down). There *was* me and five other confused students as to why there was no information posted. So I waited an hour and went to seminar, where I was cheerily informed that lecture had been cancelled and "wasn't the extra hour of sleep wonderful?". How everyone learned of such a sudden termination I still haven't the slightest... In addition, lest I forget, the lilliputian instructor let me know that they had decided to change my seminar location and time. Not just the location...but the *time*. That kind of unobstructed power is scary, for who knew that Goldsmiths was actually a closet dictatorship?
The second lecture began promisingly enough. Swimmingly even, if one will pardon my colloquialistic habits. Though the topic at hand - education paradigms for K-12 - did seem a bit beyond the course description. Ah, a handout, this should clear things up...oh, it appears to be the wrong course. I got up, defeated, with my mental arms up in the air in complete despair, and walked out, much to the confusion of the education lecturer, who I'm sure had nothing to do with the secret and infuriating plot against international students. I went to the *correct* seminar an hour later, reading the note apologizing for the second sudden cancellation and welcoming Miss Greene's seminar students to join any of the other available seminar groups for this week only. Ah, futile promises - so fragile, petals to the wind. An email would be nice, though, as it is officially (not sure if the time difference affects this, so I'll have to get back to you) 2011. Organization would even be better.
So we've come to the third week. After suffering several blows to my patience, I decided to visit floor 5 of Warmington Tower, a grand name for a run-down office building, and the home of the English department. The secretary, perhaps also consumed by the plot to ruin my sanity, apologized for the lecturer and for the miscommunications. (Understatements, how I loathe your eternal appetites). She also let me know - hallelujah, in advance - that the lecture would be moved up an hour. Okay, a little less sleep, but at least they told me. Would they have done the same if I hadn't shown up in person? One of those *what-if* situations that can only make matters worse for wear. And it's Friday morning again. I woke up on time (albeit, a trifle cranky) and made my way down to the lecture. Smiling, I opened the door...and stood facing a dark room. Silence; there were no other students in the lobby, likewise questioning the professionalism of the course moderators. Were they all in there anyway, biding their time in the dark, mocking the stupid and naive American? I wouldn't doubt it. Maybe there was a surprise party in waiting. Maybe my email account was broken. There are no answers, just stupid puns and questions aplenty. I waited until 10 past and walked back to my dorm. I checked my email, and if you expected a polite explanation waiting in the inbox for my tired eyes, then you haven't been reading closely enough. I don't blame you though, as it's a long and tear-stained story. Guess I'll again wait for seminar for some more answers...there better be someone there *haha*.
Love,
Adam (the lone soldier, fighting for a cause that might not exist)
P.S. [bashes his head against the keyboard: the most effective means of submitting a blog post]
So far, there have been three weeks of classes and, surprise surprise, three weeks of royally screwing me over. Fiction has been cool and anthropology uneventful (likewise, Shakespeare, as one would suspect, doesn't change much in this modern day), but then comes glorious Friday mornings. Bright and early (or just early if it suits your fancy - thanks London), I've walked to Approaches to Text, a lecture of perhaps hundreds of English students attempting to learn God-knows-what.
The first lecture, two weeks ago this morning, was cancelled. There was no obligatory email from an intellectual official of higher learning. There was no professor ('lecturer' does seem like the proper and necessary step down). There *was* me and five other confused students as to why there was no information posted. So I waited an hour and went to seminar, where I was cheerily informed that lecture had been cancelled and "wasn't the extra hour of sleep wonderful?". How everyone learned of such a sudden termination I still haven't the slightest... In addition, lest I forget, the lilliputian instructor let me know that they had decided to change my seminar location and time. Not just the location...but the *time*. That kind of unobstructed power is scary, for who knew that Goldsmiths was actually a closet dictatorship?
The second lecture began promisingly enough. Swimmingly even, if one will pardon my colloquialistic habits. Though the topic at hand - education paradigms for K-12 - did seem a bit beyond the course description. Ah, a handout, this should clear things up...oh, it appears to be the wrong course. I got up, defeated, with my mental arms up in the air in complete despair, and walked out, much to the confusion of the education lecturer, who I'm sure had nothing to do with the secret and infuriating plot against international students. I went to the *correct* seminar an hour later, reading the note apologizing for the second sudden cancellation and welcoming Miss Greene's seminar students to join any of the other available seminar groups for this week only. Ah, futile promises - so fragile, petals to the wind. An email would be nice, though, as it is officially (not sure if the time difference affects this, so I'll have to get back to you) 2011. Organization would even be better.
So we've come to the third week. After suffering several blows to my patience, I decided to visit floor 5 of Warmington Tower, a grand name for a run-down office building, and the home of the English department. The secretary, perhaps also consumed by the plot to ruin my sanity, apologized for the lecturer and for the miscommunications. (Understatements, how I loathe your eternal appetites). She also let me know - hallelujah, in advance - that the lecture would be moved up an hour. Okay, a little less sleep, but at least they told me. Would they have done the same if I hadn't shown up in person? One of those *what-if* situations that can only make matters worse for wear. And it's Friday morning again. I woke up on time (albeit, a trifle cranky) and made my way down to the lecture. Smiling, I opened the door...and stood facing a dark room. Silence; there were no other students in the lobby, likewise questioning the professionalism of the course moderators. Were they all in there anyway, biding their time in the dark, mocking the stupid and naive American? I wouldn't doubt it. Maybe there was a surprise party in waiting. Maybe my email account was broken. There are no answers, just stupid puns and questions aplenty. I waited until 10 past and walked back to my dorm. I checked my email, and if you expected a polite explanation waiting in the inbox for my tired eyes, then you haven't been reading closely enough. I don't blame you though, as it's a long and tear-stained story. Guess I'll again wait for seminar for some more answers...there better be someone there *haha*.
Love,
Adam (the lone soldier, fighting for a cause that might not exist)
P.S. [bashes his head against the keyboard: the most effective means of submitting a blog post]
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