May 10, 2005

Ten ways you know it's Finals Week

10. The Macs actually appear to be breathing, after all. You have considered it all semester, and they finally have taken on human characteristics. You think about making one a pet, but then realize that you would probably have the Mac pet police on your tail for kicking the poor thing.
9. Analytical analysis or bs, more like, spouts out of your mouth like a spring river on steroids.
8. The car on the other side of the road is uncomfortably close, and the yellow lines which are to separate "you" from them are, as it would appear, non-existent.
7. When you hear the word "save," instead of religious things, you are reminded to back up your hard drive one more time and pray that Satan doesn't attack that last paper...whoops, I guess it is downright religious now.
6. Wakefulness is not a choice, it's a condition. Coffee, Mt. Dew, and the occasional electro-shock therapy treatment are all aids in the sustaining this wired existence.
5. You dare not mention "I'm going to print" in a room for fear of being eaten alive by others with the same intention. You just hunker down and cross your fingers that no one will associate you with the mysterious job: "fantasmagorical final paper" in the queue.
4. The depression of another semester ending and the prospects of another one beginning are too much.
3. You write that last paper, the thorn in your side, pacing back and forth between the refrigerator, the freezer and the snack cabinet. You may gain twenty pounds in keeping your body occupied while your mind thinks up that next paragraph.
2. You just dreamed that you and your family were on the Titanic after riding back in time on a time machine. There aren't enough lifeboats, of course, and for some reason, your dad decided to hitch a ride on the Titanic and the time machine is broken. You wake up screaming, realizing that the paper you have been writing for Media Aesthetics is taking over your conscious and subconscious mind. It all seems so real. It is. You run away screaming down the street in your pajamas, searching for another Mountain Dew to suffice the sugar craving. Sleep just isn't working anymore.
1. Interrogative sentences punctuate your conversation more than ever before, and they aren't full sentences, either. "Huh?" and "Mmm?" and a strange grunt, reminiscent of Tool Time's Tim Taylor, become the norm. Regression into a caveman (or woman) existence. Survival of the fittest.

Stay fit, all. It's almost over.

And if you aren't fit, take some more orange medicine and call me in the morning.

Posted by Amanda Cochran at May 10, 2005 2:39 PM | TrackBack
Comments

Hang in there. We're all gonna make it.

Posted by: ChrisU at May 10, 2005 5:34 PM

Uh huh. ;-)

Posted by: Amanda at May 10, 2005 6:31 PM

Just think you are one half finished

Posted by: grandma at May 10, 2005 8:12 PM
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