I’m done exams, finally.
I’ve spent the past four weeks preparing for the end-of-semester stress. I’ve officially completed 7/8 of my undergrad. The end is so near, it’s simultaneously depressing and exciting, scary and exhilarating, and stressful but thought provoking.
I’ve written four essays, two assignments, and one exam in the past three weeks, on top of a thirty hour work week, and I could cry I’m so happy to wash my hands of it all. Good riddance.
Despite all the stress that school brings, I love school. I love learning. As much as I hate essays, I find them so incredibly interesting to write. All those theories you read in class, you find ways to connect them to the real world. It presents you with first hand knowledge on how smart the theorists are. We can find situations that happen hundreds of year after the writer’s death that completely aligns with everything they’re saying.
They’re smart enough that their brains transcend time.
That’s about as academic as I’m going to get. Because, I officially have three weeks to not have to use my brain at all.
So watch out. I expect whatever intellect that was previously involved in my writing to greatly decrease in the next few weeks. Why? Because…