Holy bitchcakes.
I've spent this entire week thinking it was last week. I have no idea why, but I have. So I woke up this morning, checked my email and realized that it was, in fact, September 30th. 'Hm,' I says to myself, 'I think there was something I was supposed to do today.' I mentally walk through it and quickly realize: Oh YES, today was the day for my substitute teacher orientation. By the time I realized this, the orientation had already been going on for an hour.
Upset, I call my mother (yes, I am that lame) and cry to her about it. I whined that I had an exammmm tonight and I had been thinking about thattt so much the night before that I'd completely forgoootten like the dipshit loser I am. A whole lot of self-loathing followed and lasted several hours. Then I called FCPS, rescheduled for October 21st and still felt slightly :< because the woman on the phone was a bitch and this means twenty more days of being poor and unemployed.
Spent much of the day studying chapters six and seven from the astronomy text, only to discover that the exam was covering chapters one through five. 'Okay,' thinks I, 'This is still okay because I know that stuff.' WRONG AGAIN! I think the professor decided to come up with the most random, pointless questions he could and then got himself completely stoned and drunk at the same time and thereby managed to arrange those pointless questions into completely incoherent questions via word processor. (Seriously, the man writes horribly, and I'm sorry, but if your grammar and control of language is so poor that I can't fucking understand what it is you're asking, you should not be a professor.) Rrrrgh.
And now I am here. Most likely received a C on the test, which is basically failing. This after having received a 78 on a reading response in Arthurian lit and being all in a tizzy about that. I have no idea why I cannot just fucking deal with not being all "I excel and ace everything!" anymore, but I clearly can't and it sucks. So I will make myself some cocoa while listening to old Sunday Music mixes from B&N, read, calm myself down, and then write. Because sometimes, even though I get this sinking suspicion that I will ultimately fail at writing, too, I feel like it's all that I can do right.
(Oh, and I'm also quite hopelessly and stupidly upset that Brian is watching the new episode of Glee without me, seeing as I was the one who got him to watch it with me in the first place.) PMS MUCH, SELF?
Upset, I call my mother (yes, I am that lame) and cry to her about it. I whined that I had an exammmm tonight and I had been thinking about thattt so much the night before that I'd completely forgoootten like the dipshit loser I am. A whole lot of self-loathing followed and lasted several hours. Then I called FCPS, rescheduled for October 21st and still felt slightly :< because the woman on the phone was a bitch and this means twenty more days of being poor and unemployed.
Spent much of the day studying chapters six and seven from the astronomy text, only to discover that the exam was covering chapters one through five. 'Okay,' thinks I, 'This is still okay because I know that stuff.' WRONG AGAIN! I think the professor decided to come up with the most random, pointless questions he could and then got himself completely stoned and drunk at the same time and thereby managed to arrange those pointless questions into completely incoherent questions via word processor. (Seriously, the man writes horribly, and I'm sorry, but if your grammar and control of language is so poor that I can't fucking understand what it is you're asking, you should not be a professor.) Rrrrgh.
And now I am here. Most likely received a C on the test, which is basically failing. This after having received a 78 on a reading response in Arthurian lit and being all in a tizzy about that. I have no idea why I cannot just fucking deal with not being all "I excel and ace everything!" anymore, but I clearly can't and it sucks. So I will make myself some cocoa while listening to old Sunday Music mixes from B&N, read, calm myself down, and then write. Because sometimes, even though I get this sinking suspicion that I will ultimately fail at writing, too, I feel like it's all that I can do right.
(Oh, and I'm also quite hopelessly and stupidly upset that Brian is watching the new episode of Glee without me, seeing as I was the one who got him to watch it with me in the first place.) PMS MUCH, SELF?