Classes and Stuff

Lectures and classes have begun. And I'm 4 for 4 on professors teaching directly from Powerpoint. What did professors do before ppt? Writing on the chalkboard and overhead projectors I guess. Anyways, each lecture meets for 1-2 hours per week, and then I have a 1 hour class (basically a discussion section) each week as well. But what infuriates me is that professors are either unaware of what they are doing or are too confusing for their own good. For instance, in my government course, there are 4 assigned readings for next week, but all can only be found in the library. So, I go to the library to find them. For two of them, there is only one copy of the book in question. There are over 40 people in this course. How is this logical? But at least this course is resolute on what the assignment is. In other courses, there are essential and optional readings, but we are required to do the optional readings, and then further reading on top of that. In another course, there are 5 assigned textbooks, but we are told that we don't need them, we only need the course pack. Yet the professor a) doesn't know what the course pack includes and b) doesn't know where you can get it. I go to the library because I heard that's where course packs can be picked up, but not for that course I'm told. It may be electronic, I'm told. But this professor has yet to gain access to the LSE network, so there's no way the course pack is online either. It's floating in the ether.

I broke the bathroom. On Tuesday, a guy was repairing the bathroom (all the pipes in this city are Victorian water manes), so I couldn't use that bathroom, even though it was right outside my room. Then, yesterday, I went into the bathroom and saw this panel on the wall a little shifted and touched it, thinking it was a door. To where, I have no idea, but maybe a secret passage that will get me to school faster. Anyways, the panel comes crashing down and the guy cleaning the bathroom tells me to leave, even though I'm only wearing a towel. Now I'm afraid to go into my own bathroom. On top of that, as I write this, I hear a guy re-repairing the door, but because the bathroom is so close to my door, it sounds like he is actually nailing my door shut. It's so Cask of Amontillado.

They had an American party at the Tuns yesterday, and it was the lamest thing I've ever seen. My friends and I walk in, and there is literally no one on the dance floor, as if we traveled back in time to middle school. There was a shitty rockabilly music blaring over the speakers. And some John Wayne movie on the TVs. Great stereotyping. Thankfully they had beer pong, but on mini tables and you had to pay per pint for the beer, which makes each game a £7 affair.

It's going to rain again today, so I can't even go running.