Well happy campers. About the only thing to say is that no one's a very happy camper in my world. If I could take the collective stress from my classmates and bottle it, I'm pretty sure that I could make a killing off of selling something more lethal than anthrax.
That whole thing about cutting tension with a knife: it's really true. Our poor classroom seems trapped under this perpetual cloud of doom. I hate getting to the end of an education and feeling dumber (heh) than when I started.
Sooooo not the happy feeling you want when you know the finals of death are only 4 weeks away.
I really don't know how I'm going to get through boards next year. Right now I'm banking on chocolate and alcohol, followed by speed once I realize that I've spent my study time in a caffeinated endorphin filled hangover.
I'll let you know how it goes...
