Bellyaching

I feel ick. I'm going to conclude that it's because of 1) the looming conclusion of this term, 2) the absence of the better half of my family , and 3) Lent.

I don't want my blog to succumb to the eternal whining rants of a poor, isolated, lonely teenage girl but today snowed, so I guess Mother Nature is giving me the thumbs-up to bellyache about my problems.

Final exams and unit tests and quizzes to make up: recipe for anxiety-induced disaster. Pathetically, I think the spark was receiving my dismal grade on what I thought was a pretty-good DBQ. (I think I'll be posting it later to see what the anonymous public thinks.) Nope, 6.5. The new DBQ and FRQ rubrics are impossibly vague and leave way too much room for subjective grading. So you circled a few things here and a few things there? I have no doubt I would have earned a higher grade with the old rubric. Whatever.

No, the thing that's bothering me is that, according to Mr. Goodrich, I've actually managed to lose intelligence and writing ability since AP Euro and AP Comp. FRQs in Euro: Two 7's, six 8's, and a 9. FRQs in Comp: 8s and 9s. FRQ's in APUSH? One 8, five 7.5's, two 7's, and today's last little gift, one 6.5. That's right. I'm mad because I got a B.

Note: If you are a class that justifies your 80 question tests for short units (with only 50 points of information) by saying "we want to be just like the AP test!", then grade like the AP test. They don't toss out "7.5" and "6.5" and nonsense half points like that. Try rounding up. (six 8's and three 7's would be acceptable to me.)

And because of that little treasure of red-penned paper, (he wrote "who said?" when I quoted MLK. Obviously I knew it was MLK. Be a little lenient when you only allow us 35 minutes and just be satisfied that I cranked out 6 pages?) I deteriorated in calculus. I got up twice to "go get a drink" so I could pace around the horseshoe. I started crying for no reason and poor Mr. Wyffels thought it was because he was going too fast.

So now I'm punishing myself, the proper way to deal with such a failure. I didn't let myself order my favorite dish when my mom took us out to dinner. I cannot go to bed before midnight, and I must wake up at 4am. No more freewriting until the term ends.

I bit my nails so they're more jagged. I cannot do that or that.

I must do that. There, that will teach me a a lesson!

The fact that I tears spring up in my eyes when faced with a simple decision like "what do you want to eat for dinner on Friday" should tell you how disoriented I am right now. But then again, it would be a difficult decision, with a whole spectrum of factors! A decision for two days in the future that will affect other people at the dinner table and will be soak up the precious time of someone else to cook? I can't make that kind of decision!

Okay, I'm done. Sorry for wasting your time with my irritation and self-pity.

Do I seem too offhand? Is my tone inappropriately candid?

Please, somebody diagnose me!