bedrock u

Having completed the first half of my second week in college, I've com to belive that this year may be somewhat more difficult than I had previously imagined. Not difficult necessarily in an academic sense, however. In fact, my classes are no more difficult than any that I had taken in high school. The difficulty to which I refer stems from the attitude an general comportment of the rest of the student body.

That's to say the "student" body is dominantly comprised of utter fucking savages. What I encountered on the fifth floor men's room on the south hall is a pretty good example. Now, what bothered me about the whole thing wasn't so much that someone had tried to drop some serious fucking heat in the far urinal, bur more that this person missed the goddamned bowl. If you're going to display the mindblowing amount of sack necessary to shit in a public urinal, especially one in a school, at least try and it right. The whole thing is somewhat like suicide in this respect. If you're going to do it, do it fucking right and don't tell me how tragic it is that you lacked the sack to return your shit to sender.

But this in't about suicide just yet. This is about these people's inabilty to adhere to simple social norms. Simple things really. Things like not giving into community pressure that dictates in your neighborhood it is some manner of rite of passage to get your own goddamned name tattooed on your fucking bicep when you turn sixteen. At the very least they could get in a font not already claimed by the rest of fucking Puerto Rico. The matching beltbuckles are a mistake as well, I know, but they're not a permanent one.

And Ms. Perez, if you happen to be prominantly displaying both, don't cop a fucking tude and say "Shit you don't know me" if I ask you where the library is, because, infact, I know more about you based on the combination of your sweet 'hood tat, your belt, and your Boost Mobile phone hanging from that belt than you will likely know about anything.

Judgin by the student body and the unparalelled ambience of the third floor terrace, elegeantly provided by the barbed wire and indomitable smell of what seems to be airplane glue and gasoline, an outside observer might easily mistake my school for a UN established state university in the Sudan.

But shit's tight. We cool.