Thursday, December 13, 2012

327. Tanking Like a Champion

The End.
Semester finished.

I'm left feeling really crunchy about it, too. I let myself down.
Yoga II - A. Obviously.
Macroeconomics - A.
College Algebra - B.

A freaking B.
My 4.0 is no more. Streak over.
I made it through the entire semester clinging to my A with a 91.9%, and right at the very end, in plain view of the finish line, I crumbled.

I studied for the final the entire week before. I studied until my head hurt, but by the weekend, I knew I was doomed. I couldn't remember anything anymore. Not as in, my brain is full, I can't learn anything else. I mean, everything that I had studied for the past four months suddenly stopped making sense. When the final exam landed on the table in front of me, the problems looked strangely familiar, yet I had no idea what to do with them.
My lowest score on anything up until that point had been an 86%.
My final exam score? 66%.

I don't think I have ever felt so mentally exhausted. No amount of sleep or yoga or walks in the park seemed to help. I'm just relieved that I still managed a B for the semester, and that I never have to take a math class again unless I choose to do so. And I'm still an honor student, and I'm still on the Dean's List, so I guess I'll survive. I'm just terribly disappointed in my brain this week.

Fortunately, I have a yoga class to look forward to tonight.
Tomorrow is payday.
Christmas is nearly here, and we're hosting a party next Friday.
I have to purchase a punchbowl this weekend.
Somewhere in all of that, I'm going to start feeling better.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

326. December?

This has been the sort of Sunday that deserves a little blog nod. I scored 100% on my last math test, meaning all I have to do now is kick some serious final. The weather is stunningly beautiful, and we have all the windows open. Frank and I went for a really long run in the park (which by really long, I mean probably close to three miles). It's dark now, and I've got a pan of Nigella Lawson's Lebanese Moussaka simmering on the stove.

I dragged our Christmas tree out of the basement earlier, thinking we'd decorate it tonight, but this weather is throwing me. I know it's December 2nd and all, but I'm having a little trouble getting into the Christmas spirit when it's a balmy 70 degrees outside. But it's there in the living room, and can wait a few days until the weather breaks. In the meantime, there's moussaka, and a lot more Battlestar Galactica waiting for me on Netflix.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

325. The Old Woman

The floors of this house are cold.
Wrapped in brick walls,
the air, too, is cold
and it fills me with a sense of loneliness
as if a glimpse into my future;
an old woman buried in layers of sweaters
because the meat on her bones has all but worn away.

Perhaps my house feels the same.
The weight of the years bearing down,
making it ever more difficult to resist her own decay.
Each season, not really so different from the last.

Yet her mood seems to brighten
as you step across the threshold,
carrying with you the warmth of your smile
and the easiness of your laugh.
She sighs with the contentment
of one who knows that this is more than just a house.
This is home.