When Good Classes Go Bad: Dealing with Betrayal

I took a test today for which the professor told us to study a, b, and c, and the test contained material on red, blue, and unicorns.  Sadly, this test was in my nutrition for life class, a class that I've already spent ample amount of time mocking for its simplicity.  Our first lab was a taste-testing exercise, where we had to hold our noses and see if that affected the taste of certain drinks.  To mix things up, we also had to warm up a cup of coffee, let the liquid cool, and see if that changed the strength of the smell.  (A small disaster was narrowly avoided when the people sharing a station with me and my lab partner put a dixie cup of coffee in the microwave.  The cup was, obviously, destroyed, and I was left to wonder if I would survive to fulfill my science credit with Pinky and the Brain at the stove next to mine.)

Anyway, this type of thing regularly happens to me.  I'll brag about how easy a class is, and then the professor's soul will be stolen by one of the many ghosts that haunt our campus, and we'll have an impossible test.  I, meanwhile, will have forfeited the opportunity to complain about this development to anyone, because if I do, they'll wonder if I acquired some sort of head trauma since I last talked to them.
 I'll be up front, I took this class because I need a lab for my science requirement, and Nutrition for Life sounds much less intimidating than, like, Chemistry.  Also, I was prepared to answer questions like, "Cookies are____"  and I'd write in "yummy."  Anything beyond that is sort of surpassing my passion for food knowledge.  I wish I cared more about nutrition, because, objectively, I know the topic is very important.  But I don't care about math either, and I've managed to get through a large portion of my life not even having to make change for a dollar.  Apathy and incompetence are amazing fuel for avoidance.

But, this was not just a hard test because the paths to my heart and brain are (figuratively) blocked when it comes to nutrition.  This was one of those tests where you read the first question and think, "Ruh-roh..." then read the second question and think, "Why the hell did I just imagine imitating Scooby-Doo" and also, "Damn."  But the feeling of ignorance is not that nagging, "I know I know this" feeling, it's that shot in the dark, watching a foreign movie without subtitles or trying to figure out what Tyra Banks is talking about kind of ignorance.  Also, for tests like that, I go through all of the stages of grief, which is emotionally exhausting.  First, I like to deny that this is happening to me, because, seriously, I am not wondering what sugars bond to make what other sugars when all I know from this class is not to put a dixie cup in the microwave.  I do the whole bargaining with God thing, but my offerings are a little lame: "OK, if you help me out, I'll....Oh, there was a discarded gum wrapper in the hall on my way in here, and if it's still there, I'll pick it up on my way out.  You're welcome."  God generally ignores me, which is understandable.  I cycle through anger again and again, picturing writing "WTF?!?!?" and drawing an angry face beside some essay questions, or taking periodic breaks to stare daggers at the professor who is usually bent over a stack of reports, grading.  I also have to suppress the urge to stand up and yell, "This is supposed to be an easy class, and I'm an English major!  Why the chemistry questions?  Why are you doing this to me?!? I thought we were friends!"  Then depression sets in, as I realize I don't know anything about nutrition, and not only am I going to fail this test, but I'm going to probably die a painful death of clogged arteries and malnutrition, because I cannot name a dozen different types of fiber, and such ignorance not only leads to death, but somehow means I'm also going to hell.  (At this point, I'm also getting a little irrational.)  I know acceptance is the last stage, and I'm getting there, but it's a process, you know?  Healing cannot be rushed, and I intend on trudging through these stages again next week when I get my test back.

This Blog is Brought to You by Procrastination

I'm blogging because I have a report due next week that I'm afraid to start.

The whole situation has gotten ridiculous, because, really, the report is not that bad.  Yet, yesterday, after furtively promising myself I'd outline my paper and take some more notes, I decided, damn, it was a beautiful day, and probably a secular sin to spend the evening in the library.  So, I went on a run.  

I literally ran away from my paper.  

This realization was humbling, but since I always love to push the envelope, I thought I'd really procrastinate, and, like, start a blog.  I don't really feel that bad about this exercise in avoidance, because if you're reading this, you're probably procrastinating, too.  I'm just guessing that you have more important things to do than read my blog, and that's OK with me, because I have more important things to do than write a blog.  We're basically kindred spirits.  

I'm a little bummed, because, well, I wish I did important things when I procrastinated.  Like, work on that world hunger problem, for example.  Or try to do something about the lack of world peace.  Or maybe vacuum.  But instead I usually browse facebook to see if there are any status updates, because how can I write my paper if someone I know "smiles, but is secretly dying inside"? (Yeah, that was a real facebook status that I sort of wanted to like, but didn't.)  And if no one has an updated facebook status, then I sort of just sit and....be.  It sounds zen, but it's really just sad.  

So, anyway, this is my blog.  I will do what I can with it, and if it serves merely as a distraction from real life, so be it.  Happy reading.