Have you ever walked so hard and so fast that you feel every muscle in your legs extend and burn with each step?
That was me at 9:45, running out of the house and speed-walking to College Ave. and down toward Scott Hall. It was the kind of walk that feels more uncomfortable than running, but the latter would have made me feel and look ridiculous. Also, I was wearing black boots that rip my feet apart of I do anything more than leisurely stroll down streets.
When I got to room 240 at Scott and waited to see my professor (for our mandatory meetings with him before finals) I was shocked to realize this was the first time I'd ever been to office hours. How is that possible?
Our meeting went really well. This is the insane Ivy League-educated brilliant professor who has taught since the 40s, founded the MPAA ratings system and wrote the "Documentary History of the United States of America." He asked me how the semetser had gone, and I worked in info. about my job, so he seemed impressed with that and asked me questions about the online media. He told me I should take his seminar next year. He'd "love" to have me. Booyaka!
He gave me back my papers. One was an A -. Now, I was in class when he handed this paper back (to those who finished it on time) and only a handful (of the 75 or so) people got As, so I was psyched. (Yes, I'm bragging, but my semester has been less than stellar and this guy is tough, so it's warranted). The other paper had no grade, it just said very good with a line to my title: "Washington Meets Madison Avenue: The Packaging of a Political Candidate." I'm just gonna go ahead and assume I got an A, because I thought that was the better of the two papers.
So, if I don't completely fuck myself on Friday's final (which could happen, I've yet to read four of the required books), I should get a better grade than I expected and perhaps, just perhaps, salvage this semester's G.P.A.