Finals Blues

For any of those who have attempted college, or anything like unto it, this scene may seem vaguely familiar.  As you study your heart out, learning about all those displacement currents and sinusoidal waves, something amazing happens.  It's called sleep.  And then you wake up an hour later with your notes now unintelligible, because you find you've drooled all over them.  Funny side note, Amanda really does drool in her sleep.

But finals.

Some teacher, somewhere back in time, at the conference of Evil Teachers of the World, had devised a most devious plot.  "Not only will we force them to learn pointless things that they'll forget the moment they leave our class" she said with a sinister cackle, "We'll also force them to remember all of it at the end of the semester!  Mwahahahaha!"  And so finals were born.  It's the one week, during all the semester, where students actually care about what their teacher said during the class periods that they were playing Angry Birds on their iPods.  I have a sneaking suspicion that when we were coming down to Earth, we still had no clue what a last minute cram session at 3 in the morning would really be like.  I for one would have curled up in Heaven in my little ball of ignorance, and put a Do Not Disturb sign on my angelic cubicle.

Alas.

It would unfortunately appear that to get any kind of a decent job these days, you have to get that durned college degree.  Boy howdy.  Actually, it would appear that to get any kind of really decent job you have to do some kind of graduate work.  Three cheers for school for years and years and years....  But right now, at the end of a sesh of studying, my brain feels just like what this book seems to be about.

So there you have it folks.  To all those who have yet to go through college- I pity you.  For all those of you who are in college right now- I sympathize with you.  For all those of you in some kind of graduate program- I admire you.  And for all those of you finished with school and laughing at the drudgery of it all- well, you just might wake up to a flaming bag of Dragonfly Poo on your doorstep tomorrow.

Cheerio.