In the Same Room

June 13, 2007

Before I return to my studies and forget to do this later, I must jot down what happened today during my Philosophy final.  As some may know already- the unfortunate three whom I whine(d) and bitch(ed) to -I was studying for that motherfucking final that I took this morning since Saturday.  I reread all the slides some important readings from the book, and took about 22 pages of notes with one inch margins in MS Word.  In this case, there is both good and bad news, and a lot of the stuff in between in which I don’t exactly know if it’s “good” or “bad.”

As I was saying, I took my final this morning.  I printed out my notes and read them on my way to class, hoping that some random facts would stick.  Then when the exam final began, the papers with the questions were handed out, and I looked at it trying to find something I remembered immediately so I can write them down on the paper.  But the sad part was that I didn’t remember anything right away.  I recognized all the terms, but could not remember the story behind them all- excluding Descartes, since my class last quarter spent three weeks on him.  Everything else though was just non-existent.  At first, I felt tired.  Then I felt sad.  I knew I was going to fail the final, but I couldn’t seem to come to terms with it.   My brain was flipping through all these thoughts I was having about the class/final, and at the same time trying to come up with any information that would at least help me write something down.

So after spending about 30 minutes staring at the clock and writing some semi-coherent thoughts down onto my blue book, I began to sort my “emotions” out.  The last thing I felt was sadness, then what came next was anger.  I was pissed that everyone else was writing while I was staring at them write.  I was pissed that I studied the shit that was on the prompt, but couldn’t remember it.  I was pissed that I was uncomfortable in my damn seat.  I was pissed that I was thinking about shit that had nothing to do with the final- like thinking about being pissed, and whether or not there is a curve (that was actually on my mind for a long time).  At that point, I felt like doing three things:  yelling out some R-rated words, snapping my pencil into two, and just turn in my test and start yelling (or crying).  I only attempted the second but quickly gave up as another thought entered my mind.

I began to read the questions over and over until some random tid-bits of something remotely related to question came to my mind.  I wrote it down as scholastically as possible, starting my answers with words and phrases like, “however” and “due to,” to make it sound as though I cared enough to write complete sentences and not just fragments.  Eventually, it seems I did enough of it that I stopped caring.  I’m not sure exactly what I stopped caring about; I think I stopped caring about how I organized my answers because at some point in time, I just wrote the first thing that came to mind, the way it came to mind.  And when I finished writing my thoughts down verbatim, I found myself laughing at the stuff I just wrote.  Apparently my mind uses English like that of a 12 year old boy.  By the time the first hour was done, I managed to finish more than half my final, go through the whole spectrum of emotions, and resolve the mental issues that were looming about in my noggin.  I think that counts for something.  Half the class was already gone by the time I began to write semi-random guesses down, using roots of the words to answer the questions, and was even amused at what I came up with.  Yet I was still worried that the grader might be a prick and completely overlook a lot of the serious answers I wrote.

I couldn’t answer two questions so I just decided to leave.  I was hungry afterall.  I packed my stuff and avoided my subconscious attempt to be respectful of the people still taking the final, in hopes of distracting them from their thoughts and lowering the curve (that I’m not even sure exists).  I handed my blue book in and remembered to ask the professor about the curve, and he said that their is a curve!  But not on the final- it’s on the whole class grade.  So here’s to hoping everyone wrote more bullshit than I.


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