(no subject)
I think i've seriously come to my wits end. I began studying for the GREs yesterday, and i relived my junior year in high school. When i was 17, i was under the impression that i was smart or, at least, marginally superior academically to the people i knew. I was wrong, and because it turned out that i was wrong, that i was, in fact, DUMBER than most of the people i knew, i resolved to not care anymore.
But i do care. My grades have been perfect. I teach english and writing now, and i kind of got over my fear of looking at any numerical equations that i might have to solve. I've thought for awhile that, surely, by now i'm smart enough to do well on the stupid GRE. Come on. I'll take a class, find that i don't need that much work (except maybe in math), and that will be that.
I'm wrong again.
I'm really dumb. Somewhere along the line, i must have had a lobotomy that removed any and all parts of my brain that facilitate logical reasoning. Also, because i signed myself up for a Princeton Review class that put me 1,100 dollars in the hole, i have to stay in constant contact with a girl who andrew believes "thinks she's probably the smartest ever because she teaches a Princeton Review class." She probably is right to think so. Anyhow, i should be happy about that, but i can't handle getting feedback from her. Reading her emails is like listening to someone explain a simple function slowly because they think i'm retarded.
It's really demeaning and awful.
The only good thing to come of it was that the princeton review provided the most cathartic topic i could have been asked to write about, and i tackled it yesterday in just under the provided 45 minutes. My prompt read "Only when one has experienced real sadness can one experience true happiness," and like a true clinical depressive, i wrote that the prompt should read "Once one has experienced real sadness, one can never be truly happy." Andrew said that whoever reads it will probably die by the end.
Oddly enough, Becky read it and said, "oh, you have such a good vocabulary!"
tell that to the princeton review.
i want to die after graduation.
But i do care. My grades have been perfect. I teach english and writing now, and i kind of got over my fear of looking at any numerical equations that i might have to solve. I've thought for awhile that, surely, by now i'm smart enough to do well on the stupid GRE. Come on. I'll take a class, find that i don't need that much work (except maybe in math), and that will be that.
I'm wrong again.
I'm really dumb. Somewhere along the line, i must have had a lobotomy that removed any and all parts of my brain that facilitate logical reasoning. Also, because i signed myself up for a Princeton Review class that put me 1,100 dollars in the hole, i have to stay in constant contact with a girl who andrew believes "thinks she's probably the smartest ever because she teaches a Princeton Review class." She probably is right to think so. Anyhow, i should be happy about that, but i can't handle getting feedback from her. Reading her emails is like listening to someone explain a simple function slowly because they think i'm retarded.
It's really demeaning and awful.
The only good thing to come of it was that the princeton review provided the most cathartic topic i could have been asked to write about, and i tackled it yesterday in just under the provided 45 minutes. My prompt read "Only when one has experienced real sadness can one experience true happiness," and like a true clinical depressive, i wrote that the prompt should read "Once one has experienced real sadness, one can never be truly happy." Andrew said that whoever reads it will probably die by the end.
Oddly enough, Becky read it and said, "oh, you have such a good vocabulary!"
tell that to the princeton review.
i want to die after graduation.