First thing: I was criticized (for the nth time) for being "big on math" and "wasting my skills on the humanities." Why, thank you. I know there is a compliment in there somewhere. And you, my dear, are a big idiot, wasting your breath trying to get into the business world when you obviously don't have the math skills for it. Someone's pissed.

Well, you'd be pissed too if your ex used you for last minute Calculus lessons. That, of course, is partly my fault. I should have turned down the invitation Chrissy made to "study together" the moment it was extended. But no, I had to feel responsible for the potential Fs, even if I was well aware that accepting the invite might mean having to study with the ex.

It wouldn't have been so bad, except I had only an hour and a half to teach them everything they needed to know and there were, oi, six of them at the table. Kristhy and her girlfriend, btw, have taken that opportunity to make-out which was not only distracting but also a little disgusting. Manners, people. But that wasn't the worst part. The ex was also all touchy-feely as if I were the Black Nazarene in Quiapo, Manila on the ninth of January. Woohoo. But that still wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that none of them slept the night before (I asked them, to be sure) so they were as good as brain-dead. It was difficult explaining the obvious and going through the basics again and again and again because none of the information made it through their impermeable brains. By the end of the hour and a half, I was quite exhausted that when Chrissy lit her cig, I had to have a puff. Or two. Or three. Or maybe an entire stick. *gasp*

The exam was fairly easy. The thing about Professor Gilman is that she's very considerate. She doesn't expect you to perform mathematical backbends, and even if she did, it would only because she trained you well to do so. There were only two things that irked me. First, I had no idea whatsoever what LaGrange multipliers are so when the twelve-point question appeared, I basically winged it, taking just the partial derivatives of the damn function and that was that. I am projecting for some partial points. Then there was the extra credit question that stumped me-"State and explain the fundamental theorem of Calculus." I wanted to cry right then and there. So much for being big on math. After three months of quasi-extensive calculus, I had no idea what the theorem was, although I'm pretty sure that when I'm asked to apply the friggin' theorem, I'd be able to do so. This is why, my dears, I fail all my classes that require me to memorize stuff. That is also why, my dears, I am not becoming a doctor, a nurse, an accountant, or anything else that would require me to memorize an enormous amount of facts, laws, principles, whatever.

To top things off, I got my period in the middle of the final which meant cramps. And, despite the icy weather, while walking to the train I had managed to work up a sweat which was nothing short of charming. By the time I was in the square, the only thing I had on my mind was Midol, Midol, Midol so I dragged myself to the pharm. Today was my lucky day since today was the day they picked to rearrange all the products and after ten minutes of going through each and every fucking aisle, I still had not found my beloved pills and had, again, managed to sweat. I decided to ask one of the ladies to help me find it and, what do you know, even she couldn't find it. I apologized for interrupting her, and she said it was okay. I then said "It's just that it really, really hurts," which was really none of her business, but I hoped that it would make her speed up the hunt for my pills. She then said, quite lovingly, "I know, dear," and combed through the pain pills again. It was only after she asked someone else that we found my beloved pills. But that wasn't the end of it.

I paid for the Midol, a bottle of water and a canister of mousse I had been meaning to get and walked out of the pharm. While walking I opened the box of pills and got one of the beds out. I tried pushing the pill through foil but it won't go and I, again, was working up a sweat. (God, I hate periods.) The cramps were killing me and my inability to take the pill was making things worse and I was about to throw a fit when I noticed that the bed had a carton thing where the aluminum would be. There was also a note in bold letters that read "Peel here." And peel it I did and then I saw the familiar aluminum, pushed the pill out and took it. I still have the cramps though. Haha. I've taken three pills, btw. Watch me OD on Midol. That would be funny.

Labels: stories

kitten posted @ 10:32 PM