An open letter

Life didn’t come with a “How To Be A Decent Person” manual…

..so the next best thing is to try and try until we get it right.

Just like that Hannah Montana song.

If you followed my previous tumblr, stranded-in-china.tumblr.com, you’ve probably read something that I wrote about dormitory neighbors. What I experienced was probably not that bad but, I had a very high expectation for people.

I should’ve known better.

So.

I’ve moved to a new campus and currently living with a new roommate. My new roommate is cool, by the way. I like to think that we get along quite well. We’re civil and not mean girls-ing each other and definitely not trying to kill each other like what happened to a friend of mine.

That’s another story.

I don’t really talk to my roommate because well… I’m me. I am quiet and shy and awkward. You know how it rolls. My roommate is quiet (not shy and not awkward, just quiet). IN this post, I am not gonna talk about my roommate. TL;DR we’re good.

I’m going to talk (read: complain) about the neighbors.

My neighbors are ridiculously and unnecessarily rowdy. So. Here’s an open letter to anyone who are ridiculously and unnecessarily rowdy.

1.       What did that door ever do to you? Stop banging it so hard! I hate my childhood bully but did you see me slamming him against the door that hard? I swear to everything that walks on earth, the whole building shook whenever you’re closing your door.

2.       I think I am speaking for everyone here: It is socially unacceptable to shriek/screech/cry/scream/laugh/make pterodactyl noise hysterically in the hallway when it passes eleven at weeknights and twelve at weekends. Yes, even if you’re shit-drunk/white girl wasted/higher than snoopdogg on 4/20, it is still socially unacceptable.

3.       You’re in university, pick up after yourself. It’s your trash!!? YOURS. Did you see me waiting for someone to pick my trash up? This just happens so my pettiness is still fresh. So, my neighbor did not throw their water gallon away immediately and somehow the water gallon was pushed to my side. Guess what did I do? I was being a mature adult and threw it for them.
I guess not so mature because I ended up b-tching about it on the internet. Oh wells.  

4.       To my upstairs neighbor: dude what are your feet made of? Lead? Stop stomping!! Pls and thank.

Oh, I am not gonna tell you the nationality of my neighbors cos you’re gonna accuse me of being racist.

Quoting the legend, Miranda Priestly, that is all.

 

xoxo, caffeinatedheart.