From The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs:
My gigantic Spanish test is today—I wish I could say I was prepared, but I don’t know. I’ve never had a worse teacher. Fuck RateMyProfessor, I’m only taking classes from the department chairs or from now on.
So a person I was talking to on teh interwebs told me about another out-of-print Ballard book that I’d never even heard of. It’s called The Unlimited Dream Company. I’m going to ask for it for Christmas. I need to take the trash out, it’s overflowing.
I also should be studying this conjugation chart…but I don’t think I even understand what the fuck is going on in that class. Present progressive, imperfect subjunctive, the perfect tenses—it’s all Greek to me. It’ll be a miracle if I pass that class. I should have just taken the first year of Spanish over again, but that would have made my two-year tenure at the university a 2.5-year tenure. Get a C, move the fuck on. However, I never considered the possibility that if I don’t pass it I’ll just have to take it again.
I fucking hate the dorms. There isn’t one comfortable fucking chair. Not one fucking comfortable table. I can’t wait to get this damn test over with and head home so I can do more fucking work for this goddamn Spanish class.
I’m just sick of school. I’m sick of We Real Cool, I’m sick of the 20 minutes of Abraham Lincoln-worship per Spanish class, I’m sick of the dumbfuck Jersey girl that sits in the back of History and complains about how she doesn’t understand anything and isn’t even trying any more. If you aren’t trying, then shut the fuck up and let us listen to the professor, you ignorant fucking waste of a human being.
Not sure where all this rage is coming from—I think it’s just a response from being stressed out constantly for basically an entire month. Thanksgiving was a break, but wasn’t exactly a relaxing one, since I was on child care duty most of the day.
I was in the mood to write a story last night, but couldn’t think of anything to say. My roommates are talking about boobs—I’m cracking up.
I really want to see if I can sneak away from my homework and see The Maid this weekend, but I doubt it. I have news items to write up for the magazine, and I also have to read these stories in Spanish and write a paragraph about each of them.
The roommates are playing a World War II game. In my history class, we’re studying the horrors of World War II—I wonder what the 600,000 soldiers that died at the Battle of the Somme would think of such things.
I’m not sure what to do with the rest of my three hours before class. Study, I guess. Ultra-yawn. Can this shit be over yet?
Categories: Ennui