Dear Lord,
Have mercy on this poor soul.
I am studying math and
the more I learn the less I know.
Selah.
I feel like one of Beckett's hapless creatures. Wandering the campus muttering, "You must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on." Seriously, folks. This course is Killing Me™. My weekend Times pile up. The days shorten and the leaves fall. I don't return phone calls. Anniversaries come and go. I see nothing; I know even less.
I'm getting desperate here, people. Might start a Kickstarter campaign to pay for a boob job. (I have my scruples -- maybe I'll just have one done.) I used to sneer at people who complained about The Hawk in Chicago. Then I spent an October long ago working there. As far as I'm concerned, the wind off of Lake Michigan violates human rights. And there were my parents' friends, the doctoral students, complaining about Statistics. They have my full sympathy now.
That is all.
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