Life is taking cheapshots at my ego
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Midterms are just around the corner and things are just going to get busier than it already is. I haven't started on any of my projects and its already week 6. My morale is plummeting and anxiety is rising. And once again its time to bitch about CAT:
I got back Assignment 2 and didn't do too well for it. I got severely penalised for formatting and presentation marks again and this time I can't help but feel that its all very unjustified. There are no specific guidelines as to what he wants and really all he says in justification of his marking methods is that "it just doesn't look pleasing on the eye." Just a tad subjective if you ask me. Comparing my assignment to another one that achieved full marks, I frankly see no noticeable difference that should warrant a 10% difference in marks. Its really not that we don't want to give what the Prof wants but just really that he doesn't want to let us know.
Unfortunately, CAT assignments are the ones that actually take up the most of my time in the week and however the ones that do the worse grade wise. It kills my morale because I'm trying hard and I'm being shot down without any real justifications. The class is for the better part, clueless. I feel as if we're a herd of blind gazelles in the African plains. We don't know where we are and we don't know where to go. The Prof is this emotionally scarred cheetah with a barcode on the head (because of the way he pulls his hair over his balding head) and he's just having the time of his life. And week after week he just launches a flurry of attacks on the herd and the only stupid gazelles that survive, survive only on pure dumb luck. They don't know what's going on. They're as blind as the next gazelle but by pure chance they run away in the right direction. And me? I never run in the right direction. Week after week I feel that bastard leap upon me, dragging me stumbling down onto the ground and I feel his jaws choke the life out of me. And as I trash and struggle in my dark, lightless world, I feel my life blood seep out of the gaping holes on my throat and spill carelessly on the dry plains dirt. And with every week that he kills me, my morale just falls further and further down the swallowing blackness that is the gaping abyss of despair.
What is it that this bastard wants? Will the blind gazelle next to me tell me? Please?
Sprouting Nonsense Since 1984 {12:55 pm}
