I am fried.
This has been a hard quarter. I don’t know if I told you, but I had stomach aches the first half of the quarter and head aches the second half. And I don’t normally get either. The work load this quarter was just sick.
For about a week now, I’ve felt academically burnt-out and like I was running on fumes that had condensed and turned back into gas. Somehow I pulled it together to have a four solid days of calculus review/study with my calc study buddy this quarter, Emily. We cranked out exercises from the text book, we hammered past midterms, and especially this old final (by our professor) she’d found online. I’d re-memorized my 3 1/2 pages of “cheat sheet” (even though you couldn’t take it into the exam, I just made it to study off of), worked those midterms and final on my own at night, and I felt really ready.
The test was a monster. Really hard. I could feel the guy behind me squirming in his seat the whole time. The questions were all next-level. Questions that would have been great to give a math grad student. Much harder exam than this professor’s midterms. I even saw one guy hand in his test and leave after 40 minutes. I thought “Jesus, the guy’s a math genius”. I found out afterwards that he’d turned to this guy next to him just before that and had said, “Fuck, I have to re-take this class” and just walked out of the test because he knew he couldn’t answer any of the questions.
Anyway, the good thing about math is that you can work the problem and get it into some form that resembles what you studied all quarter, so I did the test and had checked over my answers with 35 minutes to spare. In the end, I was trying to crack this one problem I’d saved for last and was working it and working it and I finally thought, “I just have to call it. I’m so intellectually fried right now that I just have to be finished.
So, I feel like I really learned a lot in this class and knew my stuff and that this final was ridiculously hard so if I can manage a 60 on it, I’ll be fine with that.
Which brings me to the whole “OMG, how am I ever going to change my MAJOR?” (said in a whiny voice). The other day, I found out I got a 48 on a CS project and it just sent me into a pit. I had spent hours and hours on that code and had created the entire program EXCEPT for one function. And THAT function was the one that more than half the tests ran though to get to the rest of the code. FUN. It’s like creating this pretty island town and you can get there by boat or over the bridge and the bridge isn’t in great shape, but you think they can just take the boat over and see everything else you build, but, no, they have to take the bridge and all they experience is that your bridge sucks.
So, I fell into a pit because I knew that because of that project score, and what I’m sure will be an average final score, there was no way I could make that slim margin I needed to get a B- in the class. I was looking at a C in the class, at best. And so, no way I would be approved to change my major this quarter.
So after I crawled out of the pit, I thought, “I’m over trying to change my major to CS. I’ll just keep taking the CS classes with permissions from the professors and whatever.” The emotional attachment I’ve had to these grades, because of my intense desire to change my major, has been stressful. And it’s not the way I want to think about these classes.
After this calc final, I’m not even sure I can keep the B I had walking in there. If most of the class does worse than me, then I can have that B, but I’m not sure otherwise. Therefore, the odds of getting my major change approved this quarter (or any quarter) really took a dive. I’ll have a GPA in math/science classes soon that’s even lower than when my change of major application was rejected last quarter.
So, I think I’ll just throw an application to change each quarter and not expect anything at all. Maybe they’ll just get sick of seeing them and will give me the major just to get me to stop submitting the change requests. I don’t know. I don’t really care right now. I learned the shit, I finished my freshman year, I worked my ass off, and I’m going to get that degree somehow. I don’t care how any more.
I’M A FUCKING SOPHOMORE NOW.