Midterms Over: Await Doom

I have no idea what this picture is from, but it feels like midterms to me. Or maybe I should reserve this image for finals, seeing as they are . . . well, final. The sealing of your fate with superglue and two rolls of ductape.

Just feeling the doom lately. The danger, growing nearer every second. Unavoidable, inescapeable, inevitable . . . Run, hide, scream at 3am, nothing helps. It bears down on you . . . (ellipsis to increase tension)

Aaaand then you dodge at the last second and just get grazed. This is because you are the protagonist and the protagonist can't get crushed, at all, or at least not until the end of the story.

Hmmm. Sounds right to me. Oh, that means I've got a 50% chance of direct hit by inevitable doom during finals week.

So, about midterms. Three of five classes come in as "passed with grades above D" Finalized grades as yet unknown. Two are still pending.

Last two midterms [in haunting wails]: Dooooom. Doooom.

One Midterm Down

Photography midterm is over.

I feel really unmotivated to write anything else. I think it is because the background music is so ominous.

*Checks iTunes*

As I suspected, from the Passion of the Christ soundtrack,

Flagellation/Dark Choir/Disciples

Wikipedia, here my plea and give me the exact defintion of Flagellation so I may share it with the two people who sometimes read these posts even though they probably already know what it means.

*And Wikipedia doth replied*

Flagellation is the act of whipping (Latin flagellum, "whip") the human body. Typically, whipping is performed on unwilling subjects as a punishment.

Charming. No wonder I'm feeling so absurdly cheerful.

My fellow students and I gathered in the photography lab, hastily finishing up last minute tasks before the teacher arrived to look over our portfolio. Sensing the mood of extreme desperation both printers rose to the occasion and refused to print. The teacher was already closeted in his office critiquing a student’s work and therefore could not fix it for us. There was some wailing and gnashing of teeth.
That was sorted out.
Eventually.
Before anyone harmed themselves.
Much.

Each of us would go into the teacher’s office, one-by-one, and go over our pictures. The teacher assured us that if anyone failed to return after his critique it was not due to foul play. More likely they had left by the other door . . . because they were in tears.
I got through it dry-eyed and was told that my work was not a complete loss (in so many words). So there’s one class that I’m not failing. Yay.

Every action has an equal an opposite reaction. Right?

My mother has a blog.

My sister has a blog.

I have blog envy.

So here we are.

I need a theme. Something less . . . apathetic, maybe? Or I'll just roll with the apathy motif and fill this blog with dull, gray posts about how dull and gray my life is. There will be recurring appearances of the phrases, "Who cares?"

"Why bother?"

"What's the point?"

And

"Meh."