I used to love English. It used to be my favorite subject. I used to love taking apart a story or poem, dissecting the meaning, and playing with the words.
I don't know if getting older has made me less tolerant of useless bullshit or if the scientist in me finally overrode the poet, but I am hating my English class this quarter. It was supposed to be a survey of some world literature, with very little writing, mostly just response and a bit of literary criticism from one of the several schools. Instead, this class turned into a nightmare of unclear expectations, vague assignments, and no instructor involvement. I got my first 69% on a paper. Ever. Ever. Not even in high school during my Sophomore year when I half assed EVERYTHING did I get a grade that low. My professor said I didn't do my MLA citations correctly, EVEN THOUGH I FOLLOWED THE EXAMPLES FROM THE WEBSITE SHE POSTED, and then didn't send my paper back with corrections or notes to tell me what she thought was wrong. I don't get the chance to correct it. So, since I have a paper worth even MORE points with MORE citations due, oh, tomorrow, I sent her an email yesterday when I got the grade to ask her how I can fix the citations so I don't repeat the same mistake, and told her I was upset at the lack of communication about my grade. Her response? "I'm snowed under with grading papers. Give me a couple of days." Yeah, except my paper is due TOMORROW. So that helps me not one whit.
I wrote the damn paper, double and triple checked several MLA websites to check on my citations, and saved it to my computer for John to edit when he gets home. I'll hope I get a response from her tomorrow. If not, I'm going to post the paper and contest my grade in her class. Simple as that.
In other news, I have a HUGE lab practical on Thursday, a Microbiology test on Thursday, another Anatomy test (lecture one this time) on Monday, a MINIMUM 17 page (not including title or works cited pages) formal lab report due next week, another essay to write (this time, about a movie I haven't yet watched for Micro) and a presentation for Anatomy (less than 5 minutes this time) along with ANOTHER presentation (This one about 15 minutes) for Anatomy. I also have to find time somewhere to get my Social Security card replaced because we lost the fucking thing we filed it in here at the house (I think it got thrown away) and due to some stupid rule, the College needs JUST the social security card to issue me my paychecks. (I have not yet been paid for my lab work this quarter.)
The end of the quarter CANNOT come fast enough for me. It just can't. I'm living at about a medium level of panic and I'm not being very nice to John, who, to his credit, is being very understanding. I sent him out of the house tonight so I could write when it became apparent that my plan of writing my paper at the Drop after work was not going to happen.
I should tell you about that and then get back to studying. My venture of writing at the Drop failed, not because of distractions with people talking to me, but of ONE FUCKING GUY who would not stop hacking all over his table. The guy had been sitting there for 4 or so hours, playing on his computer, with a hacking cough. The worst part is that HE WOULDN'T COVER HIS FUCKING MOUTH. Every time he'd rasp out a wheeze and then cough, I'd look over at his table and see his open mouth, tongue out, and I'd think of the fine mist of bacteria and viruses he was areosoling directly into my shop and onto the table. My skin started crawling. It got to the point where I would try to write a sentence, he would cough, and I would involuntarily cringe and shrink down into my shoulders.
I'm turning into a freak. I already won't touch doorknobs with my hands, and I wash after every single time I touch money. O! Yeah, this is rich. Hacking guy? Comes up to order another drink, goes to hand me the money and coughs, but this time he covers his mouth. Yup, you guessed it... HE COVERED HIS MOUTH WITH THE HAND HOLDING THE MONEY.
Me: Ok, anything else?
Him: Nope, just the drink.
Me: Ok, that will be $2.98
Him: Sure *COUGH COUGH* (into the hand holding the 2 dollar bills and coin)
Me: Um, thanks.
Him: Keep the change
Me: Yeeeeah.
Sometimes I hate people.
Okay, back to muscle studying.
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