End of the Semester Bitch

It happens every Spring. I will be SO... HAPPY... when I no longer have to deal with people for just a little while. This feeling of having to put up with people I have grown to - well, not hate, hate requires effort, but grown to feel increasingly irritated with, from overexposure, rarely occurs during the end of the fall semester. I think primarily because Winter Break is merely a respite, I will have to pretend to be nice for another four months.

I am slowly accumulating straws upon my back. Little straws, but they add up.

• Little straw: one professor's passive-aggressive behaviors, listening to his infantile self-aggrandizing "stories" for the umpteenth time.
  
• Little straw: another professor's queer little control-freak tactics with the supply budget.
  
• Little straw: the other professor's incessant, stultifying boring blather as he pompously opines to his class on subject matters which are of no interest to none but him, and contain "sage observations" that are neither cogent nor insightful. (I realized years ago that the guy is an empty sack with a captive audience, waiting for retirement).
  
• Little straw: whiny, needy, wheedling, crybaby generation students, who think that a crisis on their part is somehow a crisis on my part.
• Little straw: the suck-ups, the sycophants who think that feeding the egos of their professors will grant them a higher grade.
  
• Little straw: the politics. Academicians make spiteful corporate weasels look like pikers.
  
• Little straw: the same damn faces, the same damn small talk, the same damn sameness.
  

Ah, its a good thing I'm not a violent person. I'm burden-tolerant. You know, I worked without oxygen in the corporate world for twenty-five years. I'm not sure why this place gets my goat so... easily.

Ah, but soon, I'll have the place to myself for a blissful two weeks.

And then the summer semester starts.