December 16th, 2004


One of those days

You know the type. Where you suddenly realize, "Hey, it's 3:30 and I never did actually eat lunch. HEY! Maybe that's why my hands are shaking!" But now I have eaten, and the dizzy madness has stopped, to be replaced with the feeling of tiredness and frustration known as "head+desk=OTP."

The semester is officially over, and I don't think I've ever been happier to see one go. I never have to see The Idiot again, whatever miserable grade I got in his class. And although I did like the first half of the Celtic Spirituality class, the second got old really damn quickly. I don't care about Celtic Christianity; in fact from an academic standpoint I care about Christianity and the Big Three in general very little. Earlier, less studied-to-death religions are infinitely more interesting, and in this case I was specifically taking the class in the hopes of hearing the real stories behind the delightful ignorance so rampant among the wanna-blessed-bes (God bless you, Joss). And when I do study Judeo-Christian religion, I'd like to be studying, you know, religion. "Vague bits of evidence we have about people's everyday lives around that time" might be an interesting subject to someone else. It's not what I'm trying to study.

Those among you who've been taking obsessive, stalker-like notes of what I've been posting about lately and have found the crazy Da Vinci-esque code wherein the rubbish I'm talking becomes plain English (you know you're out there; don't lie) are nodding slowly at the screen and thinking, "She bombed her Biblical Archaeology final, didn't she." Ohhh, lordy. Bombed it, shot the survivors from the air, poisoned the water supply, and salted the soil. If there's a way for that teacher to take points off my grade in other classes, it will probably happen. I would even go so far as to say that I was not at all successful in regards to said exam.

But you know what? I have a hard time feeling too put out about it, because it's over and I never have to worry about it again (at least until the parents who pay your tuition see your grades)(shutupshutupshutup). The semester is done, and next semester I don't have band, so I can focus on cramming in the ridiculous number of credit-hours I still need just to gradute late, and every week I'll still have a whole three-day weekend in which to grab unsuspecting store managers by the collars and shake them until their teeth fall out while shouting, "For the love of God, just give me a minimum-wage job! I'll give you cookies and knitted items! Please!" 'Cause I? Have no money. I also have no ideas for gifts for a bunch o' people, and of course it's the people I want to get the nicest stuff for. Just...blarg.

I probably have more to say. But I ran out of words.