FINAL FINAL

I’m sure you’ve all noticed my blogery absence. My apologies. I know how you all live from post to post - your cursor steadily floating above the refresh button with the hopes that I have posted sometime within the last 20 seconds. However, the last few weeks have been packed with life-altering events…so much so, I haven’t been able to find time to sit down and write about them.

Now, when I made this blog, I set out to create a space where I could relive all the inane and inconsequential misadventures that make up my day to day life. I wanted to avoid dry posts about where my life is going etc, why? Because I had my doubts that anyone really cares. But judging by the number of times I’ve had to answer “so what now,” I’ve considered the possibility that I may be wrong.

So to give you insight as to what I’ve been planning to do with my life, I’m going to recap the major events of the last couple weeks. I’m going to do so in a series of installments. Tonight’s is the story of my very last examination ever. Please, enjoy.

Final Final

On April the 12th, at approximately 9 am, I took my very last final of my college career. I would have been excited, however the Powers that Be decided to place my hardest final on the very last day of the examination period. (Here’s a fun Chris Miles fact for you. I have had a final on the last day of the examination period every semester since my very first 4 years ago. What are the fucking chances?) Earning my politics degree hinged on me getting a C in this class that I was currently holding a B- in. To make matters worse, the final was identifying 10 quotes pulled from the 9 books we were supposed to have read throughout the semester – of which I had read none. I hadn’t even opened one. THAT’S ME!

So for the 24 hours before the exam, I read as much as was humanely possible – or at least as much as was Chrisely possible. In a panic fury, I tried to cram as much modern political theory into my weary head. I poured over Spark Notes, skimmed over the texts, and tried my best to read my notes from class – with little luck. I use to think it was sooooooooo funny that instead of taking notes in that class, I would do Su DoKu. Hilarious right? Well fucking joke was on me. My notes were as useless as male nipples. And that’s why my notes ended up in the toilet. Literally. I flushed them in a fit of rage.

So, at 8:20, I made my way to the shuttle, 100% certain I was going to fail. Instead of studying, at that point I thought it wiser to practice what I was going to tell my parents. Perhaps blame the test, or the teacher, or my t.a., or Satan, or Democrats, or Sinead O’Connor (fucking bald headed bitch). This is how bad it was – when I was crossing the street, I genuinely contemplated throwing myself in front of an oncoming vehicle. I can’t take the test if I’m under a Pathfinder.

As I approached Minor Hall, I stepped on a squirrel. I’m not even kidding. I stepped on a live squirrel. What kind of omen is that? He ran in front of me, and stopped just long enough to end up beneath my foot. I guess he was on his way to an exam too. I stepped on the edge of his tail, and he jumped up and ran away. I didn’t hear if he screamed or not. I was screaming too loudly to hear any noise.

Now, I’m guessing squirrel crushing is a good omen, because when I was handed the exam, I actually recognized the first quote. It was amazing. And as I read on, I knew more and more. The things I had scrambled to shove into my brain as I was running out the door actually stuck. I was all over that exam. I actually said “yessssssssssss” in that hushed way that’s quiet and under your breath, but just loud enough for everyone to hear you and rightly mock you.

End of the story – I did well on the final and ended up with a B in the class. Truly a miracle. It sucked that my last final had to be the hardest final I’ve had to date. It sucked that it has to have the most riding on it, but I did the damn thing, and I did it pretty damn well if I do say so myself. So fuck you Kant. Fuck you Marx. Fuck you Hegal, Hume, and Mill. If I never have to read your shit again it would be too soon.