I'm going into an exam knowing that I'm probably going to fail it. Last semester, I was feeling the same way about a similar course, but I was upset that I wasn't doing well and I ended up crying in class. But now that summer is so tantilizingly close, I honestly could care less if I failed it or not. I know that I'll probably pass the course, just barely, whether I do or don't. Considering I'm not ever going to want to pursue a career in this particular course and only took it for the French Immersion credit, as long as I pass it, I get my certificate at graduation. So I think I'm set.
I just don't want to look like an idiot when the teacher corrects it and sees how bad I did at it. I'm not stupid, I just don't understand a lot of the concepts in the short amount of time we're given to understand them. If it was explained to me and we worked with it for a long time, I'd probably be able to do it and understand it, but I just can't get anything from this roadrash-fast course.
I spent my study time painting Justin Bieber as a zombie, and I didn't feel guilty about it at all.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
I have a donair.
Twenty minutes later, I no longer have a donair. Google Chrome thinks that the word 'donair' is wrong and/or does not exist. Google Chrome knows nothing of tasty cuisine. Nothing. Then again, considering a large amount of North America's population does not live on the east coast of Canada, it is quite probable that you know nothing of tasty cuisine either.
I'm really full and lying down typing at a weird angle and resting my head on my friend's hip. We are both in a stuffed drowsy state. The donairs were really greasy. It dripped like water from the tin foil. Any organic freak would gag to see it and call it disgusting, but I was raised to find that dripping greasy sauce absolutely, wonderfully tasty. I feel really fat. Like, really really fat. Massive even. The 7Up kind of went good with it, even though I'm so sick of light lemon-lime pops that it's no longer amusing. They kind of taste like nothing, or like carbonated water, which is also rather icky. I'm so eloquent from my awkward angle and fuzzy brain.
Twenty minutes later, I no longer have a donair. Google Chrome thinks that the word 'donair' is wrong and/or does not exist. Google Chrome knows nothing of tasty cuisine. Nothing. Then again, considering a large amount of North America's population does not live on the east coast of Canada, it is quite probable that you know nothing of tasty cuisine either.
I'm really full and lying down typing at a weird angle and resting my head on my friend's hip. We are both in a stuffed drowsy state. The donairs were really greasy. It dripped like water from the tin foil. Any organic freak would gag to see it and call it disgusting, but I was raised to find that dripping greasy sauce absolutely, wonderfully tasty. I feel really fat. Like, really really fat. Massive even. The 7Up kind of went good with it, even though I'm so sick of light lemon-lime pops that it's no longer amusing. They kind of taste like nothing, or like carbonated water, which is also rather icky. I'm so eloquent from my awkward angle and fuzzy brain.
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