Monday Morning: I go to my Romanization class. It's a seminar day; I am in the upper level. Only one other person shows up. The professor is unperturbed and proceeds to ask the two of us a lot of horrible questions about why Septimus Severus was going around sticking government buildings in tiny frontier towns. I leave after an hour feeling like I've been run over by a train and hating both Septimus Severus and my professor for ever existing.
Monday Afternoon: I get to my second class and am informed that the midterm I turned in weeks ago on a memory stick wouldn't open. I am skeptical because I have been having computer trouble, so I was extra careful to make sure this file worked before turning it in. I take the memory stick to the library and the file opens fine on their computers. I take the memory stick home, open the file to make sure it is still working, and then e-mail the exact same file to the instructor. I am informed ten minutes later by e-mail that it worked fine. I spend all afternoon with the distinct impression that I am being jerked around.
Monday Night: I am sick all night and do not get to sleep (food poisoning).
Tuesday Morning: I get two of my other midterms back. I have B's on them. I don't know what pissed me off more - the fact that I got B's and I need A's to get into a PhD program, or the fact that, after walking into an advanced degree program knowing basically nothing about the subject and managing to pull B's on my midterms after only a month, I am angry at myself. I need slapping.
Tuesday Afternoon: My tutor sends out an agitated e-mail regarding next semester's courses. I am suddenly reminded that I forgot to sign up for next semester's courses. I race to the office in a panic and get the office assistant to register me for what I think are the right classes. I get home and find out that I got one wrong. I have to go back and get the office assistant to reregister me. I am sure that by the end of this exchange she was hoping I would get run over by a truck as soon as I stepped out of the building. To make things even better, there was an associated series of e-mails that were also sent to my tutor, so now he knows how stupid I am. I found him quite intimidating enough before this.
Wednesday: I gloom around all day. I go to a seminar, which sucks.
Wednesday Night: Someone is trying to microwave frozen bread in the dorm, and they set off the fire alarm at 11 pm. I was already asleep. I had washed my hair about three hours earlier and it was loose and damp. I have to drag myself out of bed, pull out my earplugs, find my glasses (I HATE WEARING GLASSES), stuff my feet into shoes, dig my coat out of the wardrobe, and go stand in the freezing cold for half an hour in my dorky pajamas with the owls on them and really spectacular bedhead. Not cool.
Thursday: My parents Skype me. My dad tells me that I will have to write better papers if I want to get into a PhD program. YES, THANK YOU, I HAD WORKED THAT OUT FOR MYSELF. Also, I discover that the hidden objects on my hard drive have been multiplying. (My computer has been infected for months now, and I can't fix it. I will have to reformat over break.)
Friday: I go to Egyptology and learn why sitting in the front row is not advisable. For our group project, the front row group is assigned a high priest, on whom there is absolutely no information to be had except for a couple of stelae. We have to write 7 pages about this person. I want to stab myself in the eye.
Friday Night: I drink and watch movies that contain my celebrity crush.
Saturday: I have to buy presents for my family. It is ridiculously difficult. Today, I learn that the city's high street is precisely lined up with the winter sun, so that if you are walking one way, you can see fine, but if you walk the other way, you are absolutely blinded. I am more photophobic than a rabid dog, but I walk around for two hours with my eyes watering and squinched shut before giving up and going home. On the plus side, despite how crowded the streets are, no one shoves me aside, which is what usually happens to me in America. I get home and find another white hair.
Next week had better not go this way.
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2 comments:
Good Lord, woman! That is a new level of brutal. You need some serious ice cream.
Oooh, you know what's even better? I can't sign on to AIM because my computer is so nonfunctional right now. I'd pull out my hair, except it would probably all grow back in white.
I think tonight is an ice cream night.
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