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wanted me to exercise her self-possession
THAT WAS NOT AN EXAM
THAT WAS 'LET'S GIVE THE SECOND-YEAR COGNITION STUDENTS CARPAL TUNNEL'
Ugh. Are all second-year exams like this? I hope not. I didn't think having inadequate wrist muscles was going to be the hardest aspect of doing a course a year ahead.
Eighteen half-page questions in 1.5 hours. By the time I reached my last word (which was 'dysfunction', in an amusingly ironic twist) I couldn't actually move my hand. I was steering with my elbow. Which made for some really weird-looking handwriting, I can tell you, I'll be pulled aside and asked about it and I'll claim I was momentarily distracted by the SCREAMING PAIN and in a moment of mental weakness I was possessed by the devil.
BUT IT'S OVER. Which means I can, er, ignore my other assignments for a while and recover. And write more of Sophie's Birthday Fic Of Doom, which is at 4300 words and will most likely end up twice that long. It's so much fun. So. Much. And the test audiences (ie.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
schiarire) have been providing encouraging inital feedback, which is both hilarious and cryptic. Perfect. Thus I gratuitously quote her without her consent:
OH MY GOD, the devil is a MERCHANT OF COOL!
He sells COOL!
---
I kind of um love clever dialogue and that particular
brand of sexual harassment and COMMUNISTS
---
DUDE, that fic is the best fun _I_ have had all week,
and my clothes ARE off!
(...alright, maybe there was context for that one, but WE ESCHEW IT)
I'm going to go and find something deep-fried and smothered in chocolate.
THAT WAS 'LET'S GIVE THE SECOND-YEAR COGNITION STUDENTS CARPAL TUNNEL'
Ugh. Are all second-year exams like this? I hope not. I didn't think having inadequate wrist muscles was going to be the hardest aspect of doing a course a year ahead.
Eighteen half-page questions in 1.5 hours. By the time I reached my last word (which was 'dysfunction', in an amusingly ironic twist) I couldn't actually move my hand. I was steering with my elbow. Which made for some really weird-looking handwriting, I can tell you, I'll be pulled aside and asked about it and I'll claim I was momentarily distracted by the SCREAMING PAIN and in a moment of mental weakness I was possessed by the devil.
BUT IT'S OVER. Which means I can, er, ignore my other assignments for a while and recover. And write more of Sophie's Birthday Fic Of Doom, which is at 4300 words and will most likely end up twice that long. It's so much fun. So. Much. And the test audiences (ie.
schiarire) have been providing encouraging inital feedback, which is both hilarious and cryptic. Perfect. Thus I gratuitously quote her without her consent:OH MY GOD, the devil is a MERCHANT OF COOL!
He sells COOL!
---
I kind of um love clever dialogue and that particular
brand of sexual harassment and COMMUNISTS
---
DUDE, that fic is the best fun _I_ have had all week,
and my clothes ARE off!
(...alright, maybe there was context for that one, but WE ESCHEW IT)
I'm going to go and find something deep-fried and smothered in chocolate.