This is a long, ranty, somewhat scary post, that, if you do take the time to read, you may want to split up into manageable sections. I would, but it’s all the same day the same situation. I don’t think I can.
For today’s exam, MATH215, I was allowed to bring in a cheat sheet. An 8 x 11½ inch, double sided, cramped to the point of near illegibility, wonderful savior in my opinion. The *hopeful* success of my midterm is solely based on it.
Getting said cheat sheet was a whole other story. It took over seven painstaking hours to compile because I used formulas, diagrams, and examples – I went the whole nine yards. Then first, I find out that a month, a month ago the bloody thing was open book. Ugh.
Then, I go to print it off. Wait the printers off. Turn it on and it won’t respond. Check the plug and its out. Look for the power converter (the printer’s from Canada) and it’s not there. Spend over an hour looking for it, find it, plug it in, and turn it on. Nothing. No beep, no bleep, no humming. Silence. MiniMe’d fried it when he’d stuck it straight into the electricity. That’s number one.
Then, I call the guys at the net café closest to our house and ask them if they have Microsoft 2007. Yeah! Of course we do! Well, no actually, you don’t. But that’s number five. So meanwhile….
Will’s leaving. He wants to see me before he leaves, because our lives being what they are, it’s anyone’s guess when we’ll see each other again. Besides, I know I’m going to miss him. He leaves the house at 1am. I have reviewing like crazy; I haven’t slept in over 30 hours, and am running on coffee and sheer pig-headedness. That’s number two. I fall asleep at 1:30ish from cramps.
I wake up the next morning (morning? I slept for two hours) with a migraine, backache, nauseated, and with symptoms of that time. Two mugs of coffee later, my brains working again, albeit slower and more painfully than usual, but my mood’s deteriorating. I’m in a rush, nothing is going right, and I can’t seem to understand that standard deviation crap so I call my invigilator to see if I could write the exam at night rather than afternoon as planned. Get some shut eye. Not happening – he bumps it up till 1:00pm. 3 hours away. There’re number three and four. I leave the house at 12:40 sorta crying.
Back to number five. Never fear, Syrian-ized S&S has learnt this lesson before – never take a Syrians word for it. So, I’d saved two versions on my flash memory stick: Word07 and Word97-03 compatible. “The following features of this document (namely my equations) are not supported by earlier versions of word.” Blah, blah, blah. Point is, they’re going to become images. No biggie, right? Wrong. Entrée number six.
Everything prints expect the ‘images’ which are, in reality, my formulas. The essence, no the core, of my cheat sheet. Then something happened that I knew was going to because I didn’t give my crying fit its due up there. With me, once they start there ain’t no stopping ‘em. Tears start streaming down my face while I look at the unprinted formulas. They guys all just stare while I silently fall to pieces, and calmly discuss what we can do to fix. Mr. B!#$%yNetGuy doesn’t want to help. The guy that I sit beside while I try to enlarge the ‘images’ decides now is the time to ask me if I go to AEU. I just stare blankly, not on purpose I just couldn’t make sense out of his words, till he turns red and mutters that he guesses not. I call my mom, trying to sound like I haven’t been crying, and ask to talk to Horseman. She picks up on it, asks me what’s wrong and up starts a full blown, not-so-silent crying fit. I make it to the entrance silently and then blow. I’m at the entrance to a net café, full of guys, in a strip mall that consists of barbers. For men. That would probably be seven and eight.
My mom sends my brother, Horseman, down, and my dad follows on his heels. We can’t have our womenfolk going to pieces in public places, now can we? We go to four stores, cafés, stationary stores, printing stores, all in our area. No one has Word2007. The tears, to all the guys around me’s relief, have stopped. I’m getting pissed and I have a dirty, sarcastic mouth. That would be number nine. It’s 1:20. I call my invigilator, who doesn’t sound too happy with me. I feel like a hypocrite for advocating punctuality and being late. Increases anger. Number ten.
My dad’s convincing me to go to my brother, Smeez, who works at a printing press. He’s in a part of Damascus that’s the exact opposite of where I need to go (my exam location). He talks me into it, saying it’ll only be a 15 min drive max. And he’d be right, were it not yom al wa2feh. Back in the car, the guilt settles in and I call my mom to apologize for giving her a heart attack. The sympathy in her voice starts me up again, and I’m crying while my brother and dad console me. Number eleven? Twelve?
My brother, Smeez, is my savior. His friend has Word 2007 (FINALLY) pulls it up, adjusts my margins, pdf’s it, double sides it and prints it. All in the time it took me to type that line. He’s joking and laughing while he does it, which eases me up a little.
I get to my exam. 2:00pm. The elevator ride up is with this guy who has light fixtures with him and the voice in my head’s going: what did someone say about lights today? That’s right; my invigilator’s getting his chandeliers in. And drapes. And I feel so ugh. Out of place? I want to go to home. To Canada.
I forgot my coffee in the car. Half way through and my head’s throbbing away to my heart beat, and I fall asleep twice, sitting there at the desk with head propped on my hand. I cry twice. I make mistakes you wouldn’t believe.
Half way through I pull my shit together and get cracking. Review it and fix mistakes no sane person would make. My feet are freezing, I’m peeing like crazy from the stress, and I am in desperate need drugs/coffee/sleep. The words in my head are making it all jumbled onto the paper.
I finish, 3 hours later. Eat good food. Go home. Drug myself, drink coffee, and eat comfort food while everyone compliments my genius-ness (I’m guessing they heard about my emo break-down. Hell, I’d be surprised if all of Dummar hasn’t heard about the girl that fell apart. It was not a pretty sight.)
So I’m done.
And that, kids, is why mental health is important. I probably shouldn’t abuse myself so much. Sleep is good. And because my brian is screaming in agony, I’m going to sleep now, to dream of oblivion, to wake tomorrow to the bliss of not having to study. And *hopefully* some Eid money.
I didn’t review this. In fact I’m surprised I was able to type it out. My fingers are numb. Should make for an interesting read tomorrow.
ps. Now that I’m done exams (for a week) I have a million and one posts I want to write. I’ve been writing drafts with their titles and main ideas, so I don’t forget. There’s been some crazy stuff going on. So expect many randomly crazy posts coming up! =)