A semester ends.
Not quite the mind-blowing, mental faculty-exhausting, world-turning-over experience I had in mind for my first semester of grad school. Okay, let's be honest, my classes sucked. When a final exam takes you 18 minutes to complete, and consists almost entirely of questions copied verbatim from the midterm, requires you to place Paris on a map of Europe, and the professor invalidates the multiple choice section by announcing ten minutes in that she doesn't really know if there are more than one correct answer, so just choose one that looks good, and you'll all get credit...well, we're not in Williamsburg, anymore, Toto.
I want to jump in Fern's car and transfer to Chicago Div with her. I feel that the wheelie-bagger to serious academic ratio will be quite a bit smaller there.
For now, though, I'm gonna stick it out. Some schedule massaging will happen over break, in an attempt to have classes that actually require outside reading, and keep my brain from atrophying.
Later, thoughts on eating as a Christian practice. I had too many to fit into the one 8 page paper of the semester.
Oh God, am I in eleventh grade again?