I think I’m going to casually commit suicide when I get home tonight. In lieu of my four upcoming final papers for school, I decided this afternoon would be a good time to start cracking down on at least one of the assignments. The candidate? A six-page paper for Core Concepts over online social networking using two different media sources and at least six different articles, drawing on concepts from the course including persuasion, textualization, dramatization, semiotics, Critical Effects Tradition, and more. The result? Panic.
I need serious help; preferably of the professional variety. I texted my mom out of utter frustration. I was upset. I expressed my distress with her in great detail and mentioned the appearance of tears. Her response? “See your instructer.” Spelled wrong. Thanks mom.
I sat in my computer chair reading and re-reading the instruction outline, sweating bullets and tearing up. I’m more frustrated than a monkey with a Chinese finger-trap. After trying my hand at that for two hours and getting absolutely NOwhere, I switched assignments. Candidate number two: final paper for Communication in Everyday Life. Two hours later, I find myself with no ideas and a stress headache that could kill Goliath just by sneezing at him.
Current stress level: 10. Risk of suicide: 97%.
“Two shirts and one pair of underwear can last me five days.”
-Surprisingly not me.