proximoception (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
proximoception) wrote2005-10-24 01:37 am
proximoception) wrote2005-10-24 01:37 am
(no subject)
Thought things were spinning downward but they're not. Which isn't to say I shouldn't leave the computer alone; just that I probably won't.
Here's what it was: right after GRE I had two papers (for which I had to figure out labyrinthine MLA--why is it so different from ten years ago?--from a poor school webpage) and a presentation due in a thirty-six hour period, but was coming down with a bad cold/flu (I don't seem to get straight versions of either anymore, just these outlandish metamorphic hybrids; curse you, people getting flu shots)...had to stay up for two nights getting these done (which I can barely do anymore at 29.5) so I chugged and popped tons of pseudoephedrine medicines. Here was the trouble: my girlfriend and I are always losing these, and as there are always two kinds, speedy daytime and knockout nighttime, we got into actually calling them Daytime Medicine and Nighttime Medicine rather than try to remember their various knockoff brand names. Anyway the one I was predominantly using was a Robitussin clone. It had the letters DM on it prominently and I assumed that meant Daytime Medicine. Of course it actually means dexomorphosomething, which combined with the product's alochol is supposed to knock you right out and get you through a sick night. I was even using the product in lieu of caffeine as I don't like the rapid heartrate you get when you mix that with pseudoephedrine. Anyway it all became a Jim Morrison vision quest. I barely got through my second paper, though I was convinced my first had gone great. And the presentation really was great, on Shelley and Browning. I practically got a standing ovation: or anyway that's how my addled senses interpreted it.
A few days later I mentioned to Julie how crazy I'd felt those nights, expressed worry about that second paper, made her read it. She looked at me very strangely. We figured out the DM thing. She read over the first paper (on Heart of Darkness) and said it was mostly fine, still "A" work.
Then that one ended up getting a B-minus, eliciting some rather irritated comments too: that I sounded like someone having an incomprehensible drunken conversation with himself in a pub (this seemed unnecessarily cruel), had no argument, was sloppy etc. Not such a bad mark, despite the comments, but it made me worry a lot about that other one, which Julie couldn't even follow in places. This term's grades are crucial, combined with last term's poor showing theyll enable or prevent my getting into college #4.
Anyway the other paper turned out to be a hit and close inspection of the B- one reveals the teacher is kind of an idiot, and clearly just missed the boat on my paper: at one point I speak of the lack of affect of some indentured Congolese in the story and she comments, "lack of affect on what?" (Wow.) I think she has something against me maybe? I corrected her once or twice in class. Helpfully, I'd assumed. She gets about 50% of her facts wrong, it's astonishing. This was the one who thought the Crimean and Algerian Wars were both fought in the 1890s.
So all is well. I thought I'd have to forswear internet use and all other idle pleasures and wash professorial cars to earn rewrite opportunities, while feverishly attending paper writing and time management seminars. Prof 2 loves me; and even if I chose to stoop--and could restrain my temper while talking to her--the other one isn't likely to toss me more than a couple extra points. As it is I'll write a boring, crystal clear final paper for her, restating my argument at the end of every paragraph (her comments implied she'd wanted a 101 paper, Julie says), and then savage her on the evaluation.
Here's what it was: right after GRE I had two papers (for which I had to figure out labyrinthine MLA--why is it so different from ten years ago?--from a poor school webpage) and a presentation due in a thirty-six hour period, but was coming down with a bad cold/flu (I don't seem to get straight versions of either anymore, just these outlandish metamorphic hybrids; curse you, people getting flu shots)...had to stay up for two nights getting these done (which I can barely do anymore at 29.5) so I chugged and popped tons of pseudoephedrine medicines. Here was the trouble: my girlfriend and I are always losing these, and as there are always two kinds, speedy daytime and knockout nighttime, we got into actually calling them Daytime Medicine and Nighttime Medicine rather than try to remember their various knockoff brand names. Anyway the one I was predominantly using was a Robitussin clone. It had the letters DM on it prominently and I assumed that meant Daytime Medicine. Of course it actually means dexomorphosomething, which combined with the product's alochol is supposed to knock you right out and get you through a sick night. I was even using the product in lieu of caffeine as I don't like the rapid heartrate you get when you mix that with pseudoephedrine. Anyway it all became a Jim Morrison vision quest. I barely got through my second paper, though I was convinced my first had gone great. And the presentation really was great, on Shelley and Browning. I practically got a standing ovation: or anyway that's how my addled senses interpreted it.
A few days later I mentioned to Julie how crazy I'd felt those nights, expressed worry about that second paper, made her read it. She looked at me very strangely. We figured out the DM thing. She read over the first paper (on Heart of Darkness) and said it was mostly fine, still "A" work.
Then that one ended up getting a B-minus, eliciting some rather irritated comments too: that I sounded like someone having an incomprehensible drunken conversation with himself in a pub (this seemed unnecessarily cruel), had no argument, was sloppy etc. Not such a bad mark, despite the comments, but it made me worry a lot about that other one, which Julie couldn't even follow in places. This term's grades are crucial, combined with last term's poor showing theyll enable or prevent my getting into college #4.
Anyway the other paper turned out to be a hit and close inspection of the B- one reveals the teacher is kind of an idiot, and clearly just missed the boat on my paper: at one point I speak of the lack of affect of some indentured Congolese in the story and she comments, "lack of affect on what?" (Wow.) I think she has something against me maybe? I corrected her once or twice in class. Helpfully, I'd assumed. She gets about 50% of her facts wrong, it's astonishing. This was the one who thought the Crimean and Algerian Wars were both fought in the 1890s.
So all is well. I thought I'd have to forswear internet use and all other idle pleasures and wash professorial cars to earn rewrite opportunities, while feverishly attending paper writing and time management seminars. Prof 2 loves me; and even if I chose to stoop--and could restrain my temper while talking to her--the other one isn't likely to toss me more than a couple extra points. As it is I'll write a boring, crystal clear final paper for her, restating my argument at the end of every paragraph (her comments implied she'd wanted a 101 paper, Julie says), and then savage her on the evaluation.