We've Been Here Before
Remember when I wrote in this post that I had written my last English exam ever? Turns out: I lied.
I wrote a final English exam on Wednesday, and I wrote my Communications exam today, marking the end of my semester.
While I still don't like exams - mostly because I'm awful at studying and bad at time management and often lose notes and always guess incorrectly at which questions will be on the exam, I don't hate them as much as I used to. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, or maybe it's because I've finally mastered the art of writing a perfectly acceptable boring conclusion, or maybe it's because I'm finally starting to see the value of an in-class exam as a way to not focus on the meticulous nature of writing essays but placing value on content and how well you can link ideas and themes across different texts. Or maybe I've just stopped caring.
Either way, I'm done another semester. Another ending at MUN; another few weeks spent searching desperately for employment that is both bearable and financially practical; another summer spent waiting for the fall and new adventures.
And while I've been here before countless times, this time seems quite different. I am neither exhausted not elated. I am not excited about the summer nor nervous about the fall. I don't even feel like I've earned a whole cake after this semester.
No, this time I feel like this isn't really an ending. I mean, it is, obviously, but there was nothing really riding on this semester for me. It didn't matter if I passed or failed my courses. I wasn't particularly challenged or bored with my courses. I liked my work, I liked my friends, I liked my free time, I liked watching movies and writing reviews. I've been remarkably and unusually even-keel this whole semester.
And so we're here where we've been before: searching and waiting for something to happen. I await on tenterhooks.
I wrote a final English exam on Wednesday, and I wrote my Communications exam today, marking the end of my semester.
While I still don't like exams - mostly because I'm awful at studying and bad at time management and often lose notes and always guess incorrectly at which questions will be on the exam, I don't hate them as much as I used to. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, or maybe it's because I've finally mastered the art of writing a perfectly acceptable boring conclusion, or maybe it's because I'm finally starting to see the value of an in-class exam as a way to not focus on the meticulous nature of writing essays but placing value on content and how well you can link ideas and themes across different texts. Or maybe I've just stopped caring.
Either way, I'm done another semester. Another ending at MUN; another few weeks spent searching desperately for employment that is both bearable and financially practical; another summer spent waiting for the fall and new adventures.
And while I've been here before countless times, this time seems quite different. I am neither exhausted not elated. I am not excited about the summer nor nervous about the fall. I don't even feel like I've earned a whole cake after this semester.
No, this time I feel like this isn't really an ending. I mean, it is, obviously, but there was nothing really riding on this semester for me. It didn't matter if I passed or failed my courses. I wasn't particularly challenged or bored with my courses. I liked my work, I liked my friends, I liked my free time, I liked watching movies and writing reviews. I've been remarkably and unusually even-keel this whole semester.
And so we're here where we've been before: searching and waiting for something to happen. I await on tenterhooks.
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