....is dying.
For some inexplicit reason, I can't sleep tonight. The impending doom in the form of my Philo 11 exam hangs right above my shoulders and just thinking about closing my eyes gives me the nightmares about predicate logic and quantifiers that I'm sure I haven't understood yet.
Breathe, girl. Breathe...and try to relax.
I'm not that much anxious about the exam, to be honest. In fact, I studied some parts (yet, not all) and I'm fairly positive that there is some part of my brain that understands most of the lessons. It's just that I've been pressuring myself lately about this particular exam, after all, it redeems everything that I've let slip from the previous examination.
After all, my doom lasts for only an hour and a half... I just wanted to tell myself that I could, in some way, go through it.
Psyche had gone to hell and back. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to do it.
Right now, all my brain has absorbed is a puddle of symbols that don't make any sense to me. Even if I have been particularly attentive during the last meeting, I'm perfectly capable of hyperventilating, breaking down and killing myself right. at. this. MOMENT.
Now, I'm ranting.
Which is a sign of anxiety.
Did I say that I wasn't anxious about the exam? ... Forget that then.
I would just think of it as another obstacle, one of those hellish moments in my life wherein I have thought of the worst case scenario possible, only to find my predicament a lot better than the thoughts that puddled my mind. For one, I have done that same routine during my first weeks of Philo 11 (I know, the subject HATES me. But, the feeling's mutual, anyway) only to find myself very apprehensive about everything. After a few more meetings, I have concluded that my worries about my professor eating me alive are completely stupid--he's a good guy, after all, despite all the faults he had in him.
...
And now, I've become completely speechless.
I really am anxious, aren't I?
I did a few exercises, though, only to not know whether I answered them correctly. I've found some nice materials from the net, which were useful, indeed. In fact, I must pat myself on the back for the effort I put upon this particular subject, it not being a major and all. I really am crossing my fingers (and toes) here, praying to God that He would let me pass my examination this time.
Only He knows how badly I need a three.
It might seem that I'm just ranting now, but really, I just needed to release the stress, tension and nervousness piling up my throat. I could hardly type without typos (I've erased too much while writing this) or simply browse Facebook without my heart beating fast (seriously, my statuses revolve on Philo 11 and my impending doom).
But I must not worry.
Tomorrow, I might be a little bit, better.
I'm praying for the best, then. May all the luck be poured down upon my throat.
Breathe, girl. Breathe...and try to relax.
I'm not that much anxious about the exam, to be honest. In fact, I studied some parts (yet, not all) and I'm fairly positive that there is some part of my brain that understands most of the lessons. It's just that I've been pressuring myself lately about this particular exam, after all, it redeems everything that I've let slip from the previous examination.
After all, my doom lasts for only an hour and a half... I just wanted to tell myself that I could, in some way, go through it.
Psyche had gone to hell and back. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to do it.
Right now, all my brain has absorbed is a puddle of symbols that don't make any sense to me. Even if I have been particularly attentive during the last meeting, I'm perfectly capable of hyperventilating, breaking down and killing myself right. at. this. MOMENT.
Now, I'm ranting.
Which is a sign of anxiety.
Did I say that I wasn't anxious about the exam? ... Forget that then.
I would just think of it as another obstacle, one of those hellish moments in my life wherein I have thought of the worst case scenario possible, only to find my predicament a lot better than the thoughts that puddled my mind. For one, I have done that same routine during my first weeks of Philo 11 (I know, the subject HATES me. But, the feeling's mutual, anyway) only to find myself very apprehensive about everything. After a few more meetings, I have concluded that my worries about my professor eating me alive are completely stupid--he's a good guy, after all, despite all the faults he had in him.
...
And now, I've become completely speechless.
I really am anxious, aren't I?
I did a few exercises, though, only to not know whether I answered them correctly. I've found some nice materials from the net, which were useful, indeed. In fact, I must pat myself on the back for the effort I put upon this particular subject, it not being a major and all. I really am crossing my fingers (and toes) here, praying to God that He would let me pass my examination this time.
Only He knows how badly I need a three.
It might seem that I'm just ranting now, but really, I just needed to release the stress, tension and nervousness piling up my throat. I could hardly type without typos (I've erased too much while writing this) or simply browse Facebook without my heart beating fast (seriously, my statuses revolve on Philo 11 and my impending doom).
But I must not worry.
Tomorrow, I might be a little bit, better.
I'm praying for the best, then. May all the luck be poured down upon my throat.