Welcome to my Shrunken Bitter Heart

Yes, that's right, readers. It's that time of week. That time of week when I get entirely frustrated, bitter, and jilted about everything possible in existence, and rant at you in unfounded, potentially misdirected rage.
Welcome to this week's Bitterness List.
Please keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times, and leave all sanity, joy, and better judgement on the platform.

1. Unimelb.
WELCOME TO THE UNIVERSITY OF MELBOURNE. YOUR SOUL IS MINE.
I feel these words should be projected over innumerable loudspeakers upon walking through one of the many gates of the University of Melbourne. Welcome to the prestige! Welcome to the glory! Welcome to the grammatically incorrect catchphrases and general barrage of pretentious wank!
Now, don't get me wrong. I worked hard to get into this uni. Not to say that I'm a genius or anything for getting in, because I'm not, but I did work hard.
It is a pretty uni. On the advertisements for it, there are pictures of Multiracial Friend Groups Studying Under a Large Oak Tree and Laughing Merrily About That Time They Got a H2A in that One Subject they Worked Slightly Less Hard On (for those of you not in the Wanky Grading System Know, a H2A is approximately equivalent to a B+. But, of course, with a more pretentious name). The campus is beautiful. It is full of secret courtyards reminiscent of Hogwarts, and pretty gardens and green houses hidden behind heritage listed buildings covered in ivy and made of sandstone.
Oh, and then you get there, and there's a shitload of people who know nothing about the Melbourne Model and can't actually enrol you in that subject because could you please go and talk to this person in this faculty oh sorry that person is unavailable right now if you leave a message and oh did we misplace your message oh did we enrol you in too many subjects or too few subjects would you like to fill out the blue form and the orange form staple them to your head perform a series of death-defying mid-air somersaults while performing MENSA level calculus sums simultaneously and then maybe we can lodge your request in our log of endless paperwork so we can lose it and nothing will happen?
THAT'S GOOD BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN. Actually, I really like my course though. BUT MOTHERFUCKER. If I have to spend another five hours walking back and forth between faculties so someone can tell me how many more subjects I need to enrol in, I will actually destroy the entire administration faculty in a blaze of Angry Dust and Super Rage. Just so you know.
Incidentally? "Dream Large"? More like, "Dream to a Grammatically Inaccurate Level of Relative Grandeur Until You Fade Gradually Away into A Void of Obscurity when you Realise that No One Ever Needs A Specialist in Post-1930's Feminist Free Form Spiritual Hindu Rockabilly Prose." Or whatever else it is that you happen to do.

2. "I need a drink."
So these last few months have been somewhat difficult. I am finally coming out the other side of a bad period of time into the light of day, but suffice to say, I have possibly partied a bit too hard recently in order to block out the various pitfalls of life. Not to say that I'm a raging alcoholic or anything. But. Well. Suffice to say that I have learned the following lessons from some drunken escapades in the past few months:
- The bouncers at the Carlton CAN actually tell when you're drunk.
- When you think you've finished vomiting, you probably haven't finished vomiting.
- Cigarettes make you feel disgusting the next day.
- You probably shouldn't ever attempt to kiss that person.
- Strange beardy Canadians in bars don't like you for your wit, they just want to get laid.
- Do not have your phone in front of you if you think you're going to be sick.
- Do not wash your phone if you've been sick on it.
- When he says "please don't vomit on my bed" HEED HIS WARNING.
- Beer before grass, you're on your arse.
- Don't mix drinks.
- In a house filled with upwards of 30 cats, at least one living being will remember what you did last night. And you'll wake up to its shame-filled glare.
- Do not attempt to open that toilet paper dispenser - it is easily breakable.
- Your parents can tell you're drunk.
- Do not attempt to complete that sentence - it didn't make sense in the first place.
- NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT THAT TIME WHEN YOU DID THAT THING AND IT WAS REALLY INTERESTING.
- That mountain? It's a hill. Not a mountain.
- Don't attempt to speak french when you're drunk. Particularly when you barely knew it in the first place.
So. Now that I'm trying to be sober and eloquent, I can no longer say "I need a drink".
Because we've all seen what the consequences of that are. And needless to say, I neither want to kiss another Canadian guitarist, nor do I want to accidentally rip anything off the wall of a fast food venue.

3. Nothing good inside
I wrote this as a prompt before for something I clearly wanted to get angry about. But now, I cannot remember. AND THAT MAKES ME REALLY, REALLY ANGRY.
The only thing that I can think of for this now, is that there is never anything good inside a Kinder Surprise. NEVER. The last time I opened one, I got a small bloated statue of a troll woman with a wart on her nose. I felt the blob of chocolate deliciousness was mocking me. "An evil troll woman!!!!???" it seemed to shriek, "WHY, ANNA, DOES THAT REMIND YOU OF ANYONE?!?!?" I, of course, responded with maturity by breaking the head off the tiny statue, and eating the entirety of the egg in one swallow.
SO TAKE THAT, INANIMATE OBJECT THAT QUESTIONS ME INSINUATINGLY IN MY IMAGINATION.
I sure showed you.

4. Being single.
Don't get me wrong, being single is fine. It's cool. It's okay. I can go out when I want, where I want. I can kiss whoever I want. I could take up latin dancing lessons and learn to pilot a spaceship and do a latin dance among the stars if the mood so took me (shut up about needing the necessary qualifications and needing to have some sort of coordination and ability to dance and the problems of breathing in outer space I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT). But sometimes, SOMETIMES I am a little fed up of it. I think I was so used to being in a couple after 3 years of coupledom that I am a bit lost right now.
And another reason I hate UniMelb is that it is FULL OF COUPLES. EVERYWHERE. FUCKING COUPLES (well not LITERALLY fucking, that would be gross, but apparently they have to close the systems gardens these days for that reason at night and ANYWAY). They make me want to stick something through my temple. Mostly. Not that I wasn't like that before. I've never been a cuddly person, so public displays of affection usually make me want to vomit inside my mouth a bit. BUT THERE ARE COUPLES EVERYWHERE.
And yes. Okay. I'm sure that's an overstatement. I'm sure there are many single UniMelb students, sitting at their computers at 3am and listening to Poetic Expressive Experimental Indie Music, while trying to write a poem about their existential crisis and inability to feel true love in ballad form, but I DON'T CARE.
I WANT TO RAGE SO HERE I AM RAGING.
Oh dear. I seem to have lost the thread of this bitterness.
THE POINT IS, SHUT UP AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

Sincerely,
Me.
xx