Tag Archives: finals

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The Light at the End of the Tunnel

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I have one paper down, the Shakespearean thing that isn’t anywhere near as good as I wanted to be.

But it’s done.

I’m working on my paper that started out being about Kate Chopin (and, oddly, I haven’t written anything about her at all yet) and is now ass-deep in the exchange of information and relationship building.

It’s been eye-opening, for sure. I still have no understanding of Lacan or how that will play into it, but I am writing up a storm.

11 days, and I’ll be done, done, having walked across the stage, not losing my temper because I didn’t graduate magna cum laude (despite having the GPA, but that’s another rant for another time).

I’ll be done, done, and I never have to think about USM again. Except when I go to work there this summer. I’ve signed on to continue tutoring (at the abysmally low rate, stupid me) until I find a “real job.” While I don’t mind tutoring, I’d much rather be making a wage that is more than what I was making as a non-degreed.

But anyway.

Marie called, asked me if I remembered they were having a birthday party for me this weekend.

I didn’t.

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Aroo?

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So, a momentary panic set in when I went to order my cap and gown. No big deal, it passed.

It wasn’t until I sat down with the Bear to meet for our independent study and tried to schedule future meetings with him so that there was none of the confusion that has seemed to plague us of late.

And, as I looked at the calender, I realized that there are officially six weeks left in the semester. Two of them are reserved for finals. I have four weeks left of school.

Four weeks. Four!

So, yeah, the panic has begun, a bit early this time, I think. But then again, there are other contributing factors.

We read Othello for Shakespeare again, and I realized that I liked Othello far better than Cymbaline (which utterly, utterly sucked in its ending, by the way) or anything else we’ve read so far this semester.

And Jenny says I’ll make it, and Jenny’s never wrong.

But right now I’m really starting to wonder.

college

Last Paper Down

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I have a most disappointing sense of humor, I think. Adolescent, at best, infantile at worst.

I successfully finished my paper, and managed to insert the phrase “cock and balls” into a paper that had nothing to do with either.

On Hemingway’s novel, Fuller comments, “I don’t like any story where boy meets girl, it’s a love story, and you get to the end and find out he has no cock and balls. It’s dishonest” (422).

I beat Michael, that way. I bet her $1 to put the word cock in hers. I doubt she did.

I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that I managed to pull all of them off. For better or worse, they’re done, and I am so relieved that I really don’t have words for it.

The fact that I have a rather stiff drink in me at the moment might be contributing to this “I don’t have words” thing.

So now I sleep, hopefully longer than 3 hours, which is my average for the past week.

And then I get up to study for my Brit Lit.

It’s almost over, and I’m a-rocking.

college

Mike is the Rulest

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Other than coming face to face with a possible future version of myself as a teacher, my first class back at college was pretty uneventful.

Except for the speaking thing. The thought of speaking up in class made me clench up like I was passing kidney stones. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that, in January 2006, talking in class WAS a lot like passing kidney stones. Horrifyingly painful and with a trail of blood behind it.

The next semester was better. I had a full course load and a summer off behind me.

That, and it was the semester I met Mike.

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Moments

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I haven’t had the moment yet, the moment which happens every semester and typically lasts between an hour and a whole night, culminating in my gnashing my teeth and renting my garments, crying “I can’t do this” until I pass out, exhausted, only to wake up the next morning (or afternoon) and get stuff done.

I’m really not quite certain what to think about that.

I’m down to one paper and one final. The paper isn’t going to be an easy one, slap down some criticism, top it with a bit of flowery interpretation on it, stir in a couple of sources in it and throw it on the table. This is a “what the hell was I thinking? what the hell AM I thinking?” sort of thing, is postmodernism honest? dishonest? what is it anyway?

So, yeah, there I am. Moment-less and confused.

But it’s okay. It’s almost over, and margaritaville calls me.

Wednesday. At 4:30. I’ll be there, stuffing lost shakers of salt in my pockets and singing God-knows-what.

I’ll be having a moment.

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Best Line Ever

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Studying for my African American Lit final, I came across this gem.

Zora Neale Hurston, in 1928 wrote an essay called “How It Feels to Be Colored Me.”

From this essay comes this wonderful line:

“Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It’s beyond me.”

I am digging this woman, truly.

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12:51 A.M.

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I am done with both of the Bear’s papers. One is 15 pages, and I skimped on sources. But it’s a great paper.

The other is 8 pages and has only one primary source.

Granted, I have my final in 15 and a half hours, and I haven’t even managed to crack a book, but the papers are done, done, done.

Only one left for the semester, and that’s due on Friday.

Don’t mind me right now, I’m doing the happy dance.

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Ready, Set, Go

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I have a full pot of coffee.

I have a can and a half full of coffee grounds, and a full bag of coffee beans.

I have creamer, milk, Splenda and sugar.

I am well stocked.

I have the weekend off. I have 11 pages of a 15-20 page paper written, and it’s good, good stuff. Damn good.

Mostly original, which complicates things when I only have 3 out of 12 required sources.

But the Hell Week has officially started. It will be over in 6 days, 16 and a half hours.

I have two papers after that, one due on Wednesday and another on Friday. The one for Tuesday is already finished and I refuse, refuse, refuse to reread it lest it ends up rewritten as well. I have two finals from Hell and another mildly challenging one on Friday.

I’ll still have one last final to take after that, a toughie, but I’ll have more than a day to actually read and study for it.

And Hell Week will in fact be finished.

I’m ready.