All I wanted was a good night's sleep.

 Is there some kind of unwritten rule that all students should like loud parties, and that if you live in an all student building, you are somehow expected to appreciate other people's loud parties without complaining, while trying to sleep? I've gotten many opportunities to discuss this subject with myself, as I've now lived in a building like that for over two and a half years. And let me tell you - no, I don't appreciate it. In fact, I don't even tolerate it. I'm an exceptionally unforgiving unaccepting sort of person when it comes to certain things. Even being a student myself, I still despise some things that "all students" do. Mostly the complete lack of respect that this group of creatures usually display when they are bunched together and referred to as "all students".

I doubt the baby next door that has been crying for the past few months appreciates it either. Nor the two children living in the apartment next to said baby. I feel sorry for their parents. Shit, I feel sorry for myself, on the occasions when I'm even more desperate than usual to get some sleep - like tonight. Headache, neck acting up, fever... lots of *work* to do tomorrow. Why is it that on those rare occasions when I try to go to sleep at a very decent time, someone else decides I'm not allowed to do it?

But I've fallen for that student category as well - it's okay, because "they're students". You don't call the cops. You don't complain to the landlord. After all, "they're just students". Well, so am I. And so are the parents of those children nextdoor. In any other building, neighbours would've been complaining since 22.30 and by now they would've certainly called an authority of some kind.

I moved away from home to be my own person, shape my own life, and grow up. Some people seem to consider being a student as some kind of middle jump in between child and adult where life suddenly turns into a "parents-are-out-of-the-house-for-the-weekend-let's-trash-it" party, rather than the time in your life where you become an adult for real. Guess what - that's not what CSN is paying you for.

If I had more money I would move, but I don't, and unfortunately my neighbours don't either. And I'm sure they don't get more of it by spending it on all that alcohol. 

Oh, and that baby next door? It's now crying in a more heartbreaking fashion than usual.

And why is it that after I've gone through the trouble of getting pissed, getting up, getting dressed, getting tea and over reacted on my blog, now fully awake... it's all quiet again?

Never mind. The loudest girls on the block are back. Yay.