Friday, April 17, 2009

Boycott Finals

The end of April is upon us and tis the season where I start losing all will to succeed/pass/scrape by/live through finals. And with 19 credits I'm definitely feeling like this:


Except instead of that calculator (which I haven't used since my Sophomore year in High School--thank you English program) insert MLA handbook.

It's about this time when I start thinking about my other options in life. Ones that don't involve a 10 pg research paper on the parallels between the geology of the moors and the psychology of Catherine Earnshaw. And I don't know if its all the medieval literature talking, but joining a nunnery is starting to look pretty good.

Admittedly, my cross-stitching could use a little brushing up on, and I've never loved black and white on my complexion, but I think this could work. Plus, if it's anything like Sister Act I know I could handle it because I am GREAT at jump rope.

Or maybe I could just handle this slump BYU style and marry my way out of school. Although, there is that tiny problem of finding someone who would be at least acquiescent of this request. . . Well in 8th grade a homeless man outside of Albertson's said he would marry me, so maybe he's still up for the job? Here's an artist's depiction, if you go to a Provo Albertson's sometime, tell him his wife is looking for him.

Or maybe I could become another "gal in the workplace":
I mean, Rosie the Riveter is still a total hottie. Ok, you're right, I don't exactly know what riveting is, much less how it's done, but I'm pretty sure learning that isn't as hard as frantically catching up on all the Humanities reading I assured myself I would do before the final. But I don't think I would look quite as good in that bandana (I wonder what gang sports the red and white polka dots) and I know my hair would never do that awesome John Travolta loopdeloop at the top there.

But when it comes down to it, as much as I would love to do these things, I just really don't have the stones to go through with it. School is safe. It's all I know. I've been doing it for fourteen years now. I think I'm just going to call it a night and hope I wake up with a little more vigor and vim.