FUCK MY FUCKING LIFE....
Okay, well, technically I'm better now. But I had to get this out of my system while my fiery rage was still present.
.
.
I sign up for my semester with my college algebra teacher. La de da de da, it's all good in the hood. I actually liked him.
Little did I know the hell that was waiting me.
This semester, apparently the school council is trying something new and fresh with the math classes. Sounds great, right? NO. HOW DARE YOU EVEN ASSUME THAT FOR EVEN A SPLIT SECOND.
Whoever said change was good has never had to slave over an online algebra quiz for four hours.
That's right. I searched desperately for a "pause" button, or something that would end the misery and hellfire for only a little while, so I could go and breath oxygen for about five minutes.
BUT NO. OF COURSE NOT. THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE CONVENIENT.
So I sat with my older brother while he helped me for three hours with jumbles of letters and functions that I was sure was created by beelzebub himself, loosing every scrap of pride I had left in my body.
I don't know what it was, and I don't have any idea why, but my throat dried up like I was in a fucking desert during this process. I don't know if it was the air conditioning in the corner of the room giving me a straight up "fuck you" or if the online quiz was actually spewing some sort of anti-coughdrop spray out of my laptop in an attempt to make my life worse.
Because that's right. It hates me.
At least I got most of the questions right.
Here's some multilingual disney to cheer me and everyone up.
.
.
I sign up for my semester with my college algebra teacher. La de da de da, it's all good in the hood. I actually liked him.
Little did I know the hell that was waiting me.
This semester, apparently the school council is trying something new and fresh with the math classes. Sounds great, right? NO. HOW DARE YOU EVEN ASSUME THAT FOR EVEN A SPLIT SECOND.
Whoever said change was good has never had to slave over an online algebra quiz for four hours.
That's right. I searched desperately for a "pause" button, or something that would end the misery and hellfire for only a little while, so I could go and breath oxygen for about five minutes.
BUT NO. OF COURSE NOT. THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE CONVENIENT.
So I sat with my older brother while he helped me for three hours with jumbles of letters and functions that I was sure was created by beelzebub himself, loosing every scrap of pride I had left in my body.
I don't know what it was, and I don't have any idea why, but my throat dried up like I was in a fucking desert during this process. I don't know if it was the air conditioning in the corner of the room giving me a straight up "fuck you" or if the online quiz was actually spewing some sort of anti-coughdrop spray out of my laptop in an attempt to make my life worse.
Because that's right. It hates me.
At least I got most of the questions right.
Here's some multilingual disney to cheer me and everyone up.
Click to view