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Finals are a stressful time for most college students. This is understandable, especially considering how many emails I got this week from my fellow lecture attendees that went something like this:
Seriously chick, you didn't go to lecture. That's cool- but if you feel obligated to spam my inbox with pleas for 25 classes worth of notes, at least give me a decent story to make it worth the 5 seconds I spent deciding not to help you. If I had been writing this email, it would have read something like this:
Hmmm, maybe next semester I'll do an experiment as to how effective the above email would be for obtaining notes.
Anyway, finals are stressful. I, on the other hand, usually don't find finals week particularly more stressful than any other week, except that it takes an hour to find parking and the library is chalk-full of underclassmen who have clearly never been there before ("Wow- I've never been in the library before!"). The main reason for this is that classes in my major don't typically have finals (reason #83 why my major is better than yours). Nay, we have reports. Lots and lots of reports due every week; and each 10-15 page report is worth about 5% of my grade. (Seriously, advertising is great!). For real, though, it's not that bad. (Actually, the last two weeks of November, it usually IS that bad.)
But this finals week was different, and I think it had something to do with World Civ I. I am not good at history. I have NEVER been good at history. I'm great with numbers and concepts and cause/effect relationships, but not when all three are combined and I have to put them in the correct order with the proper date and am expected to have 900 years of history of 6 different countries memorized. Plus, I am, and always have been, awful at names. This problem is particularly exacerbated when Popes and Rulers have names like Louis and Henry and Charles and Benedict and the difference between the Henry that established a jury system and the Henry that whored around is a II vs VIII and 400 years. This is, of course, assuming that you don't confuse the Henry II that lived in England with the Henry II that lived in France, the same time as Henry VIII, and invented the patent (I remember that trivial detail because I think it's ironic).
Needless to say, it was a very stressful weekend (except the part where Tim Tebow cried), that seems to have taken it's toll on my intellectual prowess- namely, my ability to remember numbers.
Fun fact about LB: I am really good at remembering numbers. My SSN, my MOM'S SSN, my driver's license number, every credit/debit card I've ever had, routing numbers, bank numbers, etc. (I'm also really good at resisting torture, so don't think you're going to get them out of me. Unless you're a gremlin). In fact, my (only) party trick is that I can tell you the number of electoral votes that any state had in 1991. (I can't figure out why this doesn't come up at parties more often).
Which is why I panicked today when I sat down to take my psych final and could not, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, remember my student ID number. It somehow morphed into a combination of my SSN and debit card number. I had to email my prof about it when I got home. It was embarrassing.
Anyway, finals are done, and now that I've finished this post, I've realized that it's completely stupid. Kudos to you if you've reached this point, but I don't blame you if you haven't. If you HAVE read this far, here is your reward: Download the new Train CD.
You can thank me for that advice later.
"Hey guys! I hope studying is going well, because it isn't for me. I can't seem to find any of my notes since the midterm, could some kind soul give me theirs? I promise to return the favor!"
Seriously chick, you didn't go to lecture. That's cool- but if you feel obligated to spam my inbox with pleas for 25 classes worth of notes, at least give me a decent story to make it worth the 5 seconds I spent deciding not to help you. If I had been writing this email, it would have read something like this:
"Hey guys! I hope you've managed to find a place to park within a mile of the library, and that you're having a fun time studying- I am not having quite so much fun. For one, I got kidnapped by gremlins on the 6th floor last night and they tortured me for 12 hours as repayment for that time I wrote graffiti on the wall of the 2nd stall in that bathroom. As one of the methods of torture, they took my laptop and deleted all of my notes for the whole semester. I would really appreciate it if someone would email me their notes, otherwise the gremlins win! Kthnx!"
Hmmm, maybe next semester I'll do an experiment as to how effective the above email would be for obtaining notes.
Anyway, finals are stressful. I, on the other hand, usually don't find finals week particularly more stressful than any other week, except that it takes an hour to find parking and the library is chalk-full of underclassmen who have clearly never been there before ("Wow- I've never been in the library before!"). The main reason for this is that classes in my major don't typically have finals (reason #83 why my major is better than yours). Nay, we have reports. Lots and lots of reports due every week; and each 10-15 page report is worth about 5% of my grade. (Seriously, advertising is great!). For real, though, it's not that bad. (Actually, the last two weeks of November, it usually IS that bad.)
But this finals week was different, and I think it had something to do with World Civ I. I am not good at history. I have NEVER been good at history. I'm great with numbers and concepts and cause/effect relationships, but not when all three are combined and I have to put them in the correct order with the proper date and am expected to have 900 years of history of 6 different countries memorized. Plus, I am, and always have been, awful at names. This problem is particularly exacerbated when Popes and Rulers have names like Louis and Henry and Charles and Benedict and the difference between the Henry that established a jury system and the Henry that whored around is a II vs VIII and 400 years. This is, of course, assuming that you don't confuse the Henry II that lived in England with the Henry II that lived in France, the same time as Henry VIII, and invented the patent (I remember that trivial detail because I think it's ironic).
Needless to say, it was a very stressful weekend (except the part where Tim Tebow cried), that seems to have taken it's toll on my intellectual prowess- namely, my ability to remember numbers.
Fun fact about LB: I am really good at remembering numbers. My SSN, my MOM'S SSN, my driver's license number, every credit/debit card I've ever had, routing numbers, bank numbers, etc. (I'm also really good at resisting torture, so don't think you're going to get them out of me. Unless you're a gremlin). In fact, my (only) party trick is that I can tell you the number of electoral votes that any state had in 1991. (I can't figure out why this doesn't come up at parties more often).
Which is why I panicked today when I sat down to take my psych final and could not, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, remember my student ID number. It somehow morphed into a combination of my SSN and debit card number. I had to email my prof about it when I got home. It was embarrassing.
Anyway, finals are done, and now that I've finished this post, I've realized that it's completely stupid. Kudos to you if you've reached this point, but I don't blame you if you haven't. If you HAVE read this far, here is your reward: Download the new Train CD.
You can thank me for that advice later.
