Saturday, June 12, 2010

airport boredom

I know I am a bad person because I only post these things when I am bored. That and I don't want to look like a complete moron sitting at the airport trying to kill 2 hours by staring at the wall. People get confused when someone finds the wall that entertaining.

Finals are finally over for spring quarter. Fuck yes. It was a really, really, really, really stressful and difficult quarter. Emotions were running loose and wild on the streets and crying was done. That's right folks I cried. It was right after my second ochem midterm.....wait, a back-story needs to be done here. Ochem is a bitch, but I did fairly well last quarter pulling off a B. I worked really hard and earned that fucking B. So, this quarter I though the same thing would occur, I would work really hard and scrape a B. It kinda happened like that. Kinda. First midterm rolls around, I study a descent amount and I get a 52/100...granted the average was a 59, but still, I got essentially a C. Not a good start. So, I study super hard, I mean I spent weeks studying without studying for my other classes, bathing, or eating. I finally take the test, and I thought it went pretty well. My friends think the test was a nightmare, but I ignored their raining on my parade because I had studied. You cannot fail if you studied. WRONG. I get my grade back, i got a 26/100. I am not even fucking kidding. A 26 out of 100. The average was a 41. I had successfully proven that studying does NOTHING. I was super emo for a couple days. I didn't leave my house, I drew some pretty pictures, it was like a perpetual pool of emoness was filling up my house. So, I did what I always do when I fail. I pretend it never happened. I start leaving the house, stopped studying super hard, and just having fun with friends. I lived this feckless lifestyle for about 2 weeks, before finals week craned it's neck to look at me with it's soulless eyes. Finals were a week away and my freak out began. I study feverishness for all my classes, ochem included. I was a study machine. I studied at the 24 hour study center for much more than 24 hours. I read my books front to back. My first final was Tuesday, and it was art history. I gave a half assed effort to read the chapter and go over important artist that were in Italy in the 15th century and pretended I actually cared about these funny looking portraits of who cares what. I wrote my essay quickly and skillfully, filling the entire 32 page booklet with my intelligent thoughts and sheer awesomeness. I had done well on the midterms and wrote a BEAST paper on Donatello's David (for which I translated over 30 pages of Italian), so I was not too worried.

Then it was onto genetics. I really do not care for genetics, but I do not care for failing. I had done well on the first one, bombed my second due to over-studying for ochem, so I felt the urge to do well. I studied with Melissa, and we both felt we understood the material. This is simple proof God either hates me, or loves to watch me suffer. That test was as if hell had spurred out through paper and DNA. It was disgusting. Every single person that walked out of that room had their living souls sucked out from them. Melissa and I cried that night on Brittney's, bless her, shoulder. It was pathetic. This is were Melissa and I buried our dreams of doctor. But we still had ochem the next day, and I hadn't studied ochem since Monday, because I had been studying for the other midterms.

I was too depressed to really study that night, so I went to bed early hoping to wake up and have the urge to study. Bull. I wake up at 9 and go to the library to study, I kinda browse my notes and test from before, but I cannot focus. So, I go out to get lunch at 11:30, and reside to giving up studying. I then go to the music room and bang on the piano until 3:00 where I quickly go off to my final and get ready for ultimate failure. I take the test and I was positive I failed. I didn't know any of the reactions or synthesis problems, I was confident in my failure. I was so confident in my failure I internally decided to get SMASHED that night, hoping I could feel better about the scenario. I did not feel better. It was a horrible night involving throwing up and lights and dehydration and badness. I will save the reader the details because I know my mom reads these, and I have a feeling she would not want to know about what happened here. But, I am alive. I think. Hopefully I am not in coma or anything at the hospital, and this is all an elaborate dream. Crap. Either way I wake up on Melissa's couch because my friends had to take care of the overly drunk ass, again my friends are beyond wonderful people and I do not know why they put up with the shit do as much as they do. We get food and I take my hungover ass home and I proceed to get the house ready for my leaving and flying home to Maryland the next day. So, during this hungover time I say, hey, why don't I check out my ochem grade, I am hungover and do not think I could feel much worse. I look, and find I got an 70%, which is like an A in ochem world, raising my C- grade to a B. Have you ever been so excited you threw up. Well it almost happened to me. I was so sure of my failure and had nearly died for that. It made me stoked that I was wrong.

The rest of the day was spent trying to assemble the rest of my things. The one thing I could not recover was my wallet. With me leaving for the airport the following morning I proceeded to freak out. I called the airport and they told me I can do a screening test, where the ask me questions only I would know, and make sure I am not some terrorist. I do spread terror, but not like that people. So, I spend 30 mintues getting interrogated and being embarrassed that I do not know my parents birthday or how old they are. The airport security people thought I was funny while I tried to stumble deep in my memory to try and prove some form of identity. They let me go and thus I am now here. At the airport at 8:00, waiting for my 9:45 flight :(. I always get here absurdly early. I had successful killed about an hour though, so I am getting a cinnabon to celebrate. Peace bloggers.

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