Well here we are, children. Dead week. Hell week. The one week in the semester when all the epic date parties and wild nights on campus corner seem tragically dwarfed by the fact that every single one of your professors is trying to kill you. Who cares that you’ve had the time of your life doing things you’ll one day forbid your children from doing; in a matter of days you’ll be nothing more than a squishy spot on the north oval from where your head exploded.
And I swear to Tim Tebow, this time of the semester just gets scarier and scarier every year. Now that I’m a graduate student my professors apparently think I’m Super Woman. Two research proposals, one research project, one presentation, and one mother-of-all final exams all due within a span of two days? Meh, she can handle it. Why on EARTH did I ever aspire to become a “master?!”
So for all intents and purposes, I fair you good day sir. No seriously…this is all I got. I wrote 20 pages about a content analysis of blogging motives this afternoon, so I think I’ve hit my quota of BS for the day. So to you and yours, I wish you a happy dead week. Study hard, sleep well, don’t drink (I promise you it’ll be worth it), and remember: this too shall pass. And even if it really doesn’t and your parents wail and gnash their teeth upon seeing your grades, try to keep perspective that it really isn’t the end of the world.
I mean, when my dad went in for his finals back in ‘69 his professor told him, “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself…plus failure, disgrace and death in Vietnam.”
At least all we’ve gotta worry about is the failure and disgrace.
Much love, and GOOD LUCK!
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