The Break: "It's like my healthy dose of vicodin, or morphine. Or both."

"I would visualize things coming to me. It would just make me feel better.
Visualization works if you work hard. That's the thing.
You can't just visualize and go eat a sandwich."

-- Jim Carrey (on Oprah)

First thing's first. The Winter Break has come, or: is at hand for anyone with an exam next week (this includes the CSC kids with their exam on Monday, or the ANT100 kids with their 50 000 monkeys and their Latin names).

There's no denying the antsy feeling you've got; the need to explode off the campus scene and go party. Get smashed, plastered and mended. Do something offensive, polite, and/or both. Just play safe.

Right now I'm in a state of utter disgust. I'm so tired. Everyday feels like a hangover. I'm in need of some major psychotherapy and I need to reassess myself; that is in great need. I don't remember who I am (a laid-back, sarcastic chick with a flair for literal dissections). Maybe the metalloid transformation into some U of T Android started long before I even mentioned it. I just can't remember, not for the life of me, what I want. What I like. What I plan to do with myself.

Aim high, but shoot low. Our mission is to take this monster down with one swift blow. (David Melillo, Morris County Blues)

I'm going to watch all corniest, cheesiest, most f'ed up movies in the world. I'm going to shop for CDs that I haven't listened to in ten years. I'm going to donate all the stuff I can. I'm going to do some social justice and find some inner Zen.

Peace out and holly-stars.

Calc Exam: "Let's never speak of this again."

"Do not worry about your difficulties in Mathematics. I can assure you mine are still greater."
-- Albert Einstein

Let's skew Einstein's quote, take it completely out of context, and replace his name with mine. For anyone who found the test difficult and heinous, you're not alone. I was suffocating (more like a mild form of dyspepsia). After the first few questions, I realize just how defective MAT135Y is as a course: none of the past tests, nothing that was worth focusing on, was really on the test. A load of the biggest bullshit was on it -- in short, stuff no one thought was worth fiddling over was on that written form of mental homicide. Absolutely ridiculous.

It'd be nice to pass, to be honest. A sympathy pass, hopefully. (Are you reading this God? Or better yet: Prof Lam -- are you getting my telepathic pleas?) For anyone who found it easy: up yours. Honestly though, that's great -- good for you. Seriously. But! Keep that tidbit of info to yourself, or else you'll find many glares and a thousand daggers headed your way (figuratively speaking; though the wind does a well enough job portraying a thousand daggers, as it whips your face red, as you walk down St. George Street).

I wasn't intending to find out if calc was the Career Killer, the Jack-the-Ripper of university. But I got my whiff of failure today and absolute helplessness. Have you ever felt like you were completely powerless? Utterly speechless and without the ability to dictate your own actions? This test pretty much abducted me, threw me into a cell and instructed me to dig my way out with a plastic spoon. Helpless and hopeless. Oh so wonderful! (Please note the heavily-laden sarcasm.)

Lucky for me, I had Grey's Anatomy and Whose Line is it Anyway? to look forward to. They always make me feel better. That and a good, warm cookie. Oh thank you very much, dearest mumsy.

Off to bed.
I'm not going to speak of this again.
I'm going to glare at bio and chem.
But I'm not going to let this soil my to-be-established exam mood.