I have been mind fucked.
Seriously, what just happened to me? Everything went to Hell yesterday when I finished my Psych exam (which was really easy, I almost wish I hadn’t put so much effort into it). I went to work and spent four hours writing notes on the computer over half of the five hundred (an actual estimate) pages of articles and book chapters we had to memorize for my Criminal Justice class.
See, my teacher, Chief, is what I would like to call an absolute hard-ass. We had two grades in the class: the midterm and the final, both of which are two essays on any topic he chose from the readings and lecture. Essentially, my grade was to be determined by about eight to ten pages of hand written essay. We had about two hundred more pages to study this time, and seeing as it was one of my three exams within the past 24 hours I didn’t have nearly as much time to devote to it as one would hope. On top of everything else, he has been sending looming e-mails about making sure to bring our ID cards to class “Or there will be consequences.”
With all of this looming over me I made myself ill. I spent about half of my work shift last night in the bathroom, and didn’t have the time to cook so I grabbed a burger at Sonic afterward, which promptly made me spend yet another 45 minutes in the bathroom. I then went to make sure that I had my ID in my wallet. It was gone. Yes, my damn UT ID which I never have to use since I don’t live on campus managed to disappear from the face of the Earth for the one day I actually needed it. I tore my room, purses, jackets, pants, bed, desk, and just about the whole apartment apart to find it and it was nowhere.
Trying to calm myself down I decided to pull up the notes I had been working on and finish the second half. When I tried to open it my flash drive had corrupted the file. I lost it. For about an hour I completely broke down and became a quivering, fleshy, sobby-thing while Max poked me to make sure I wasn’t choking on my own tongue or anything.
I looked something like this.
I studied, got about three hours of sleep, got a new ID at 7:45 this morning, studied more, and went in to take my exam. Chief came in, looked at us, and said, “I’ve decided that I’m going to take the best of your two exam scores and make it your final grade. Those of you with good reason, get out.” My sluggish brain processed the implications of this for a few moments.
I got an 85% on my first exam.
My legs hauled ass out of that room as faster than previously conceived possible. I don’t really remember feeling much other than absolute shock that the exam that I had been dreading for weeks and that had made my life a nightmare for the past day was not actually going to happen. Not that I wanted it to happen. And then I went on to fail Spanish.
It felt like reading a Stephen King Novel. All build-up and tension but a very tiny, unforgiving climax.
I plan on going home and drinking tequila to repress all memories from this semester.
See, my teacher, Chief, is what I would like to call an absolute hard-ass. We had two grades in the class: the midterm and the final, both of which are two essays on any topic he chose from the readings and lecture. Essentially, my grade was to be determined by about eight to ten pages of hand written essay. We had about two hundred more pages to study this time, and seeing as it was one of my three exams within the past 24 hours I didn’t have nearly as much time to devote to it as one would hope. On top of everything else, he has been sending looming e-mails about making sure to bring our ID cards to class “Or there will be consequences.”
With all of this looming over me I made myself ill. I spent about half of my work shift last night in the bathroom, and didn’t have the time to cook so I grabbed a burger at Sonic afterward, which promptly made me spend yet another 45 minutes in the bathroom. I then went to make sure that I had my ID in my wallet. It was gone. Yes, my damn UT ID which I never have to use since I don’t live on campus managed to disappear from the face of the Earth for the one day I actually needed it. I tore my room, purses, jackets, pants, bed, desk, and just about the whole apartment apart to find it and it was nowhere.
Trying to calm myself down I decided to pull up the notes I had been working on and finish the second half. When I tried to open it my flash drive had corrupted the file. I lost it. For about an hour I completely broke down and became a quivering, fleshy, sobby-thing while Max poked me to make sure I wasn’t choking on my own tongue or anything.
I looked something like this.
I studied, got about three hours of sleep, got a new ID at 7:45 this morning, studied more, and went in to take my exam. Chief came in, looked at us, and said, “I’ve decided that I’m going to take the best of your two exam scores and make it your final grade. Those of you with good reason, get out.” My sluggish brain processed the implications of this for a few moments.
I got an 85% on my first exam.
My legs hauled ass out of that room as faster than previously conceived possible. I don’t really remember feeling much other than absolute shock that the exam that I had been dreading for weeks and that had made my life a nightmare for the past day was not actually going to happen. Not that I wanted it to happen. And then I went on to fail Spanish.
It felt like reading a Stephen King Novel. All build-up and tension but a very tiny, unforgiving climax.
I plan on going home and drinking tequila to repress all memories from this semester.