the final

When faced with stress of any sort my first instinct is to turn to drugs, so I arrived at the university’s Exam Centre with a Grande Starbucks in hand, even though it was 6:30 in the evening. Standing in the elevator, riding up, one of my fellow passengers turned to another and said in mild disgust: “Everywhere you go that you find students you smell coffee.”

I sipped as unobtrusively as possible.

Three months have slid past. It hasn’t exactly been a blur—I’ve been acutely aware of the passage of time, and it has been neither fast nor slow, but rather at a fairly steady pace. Some of that time that could have been a little more wisely spent, to be sure, but I did my work when it was supposed to be done: I read all the books before the lectures; I handed things in on time; I broke the patterns that had haunted my modus operandi the first time I took a shot at higher education. And I enjoyed the course, my great re-entry into methodical learning. I consider the whole operation a restrained success.

At least I hope to. There remains the small matter of the final exam—my first institutional evaluation in about eleven years. I understood what was being asked of me, I wrote it as best as I was able (despite contending with a monumentally mucus-laden melon—I came down with a killer cold about 24 hours before the test and dragged myself to the final with a pocket stuffed full of tissue), but I could not even hazard a guess as to what kind of results will come out the other side, after the professors pen has scratched through the various points and pit-falls of my three essays. It will be interesting to see.

Other than that I have decided that I need to be busier. There hasn’t been enough keeping me occupied these past few months, well, to be honest, it’s been more like the past year or so, and a mildly suffocating lethargy has descended over my days. Napping has almost become my occupation, and I begin to worry that I have lost the ability to do more than one thing at a time, fun things like breathing and walking. I haven’t followed a faithful exercise regime since last November and I am at the point now where when contemplating the accomplishments of others in almost any professional field I am filled with abject awe.

It’s time to become a more active participant in life again.

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~ by A Mundi on August 20, 2010.

One Response to “the final”

  1. The paragraph that begins “three months” is hauntingly real to me

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