Killing Me Softly

Two posts in one week--crazy shit, no?

Anyways...

So much for the theory that last semester would be our most difficult semester of the program. *Sobbing quietly into the crook of my arm*

A&P is killing me so far--both mentally and physically. We average anywhere from 10-13 pages of notes a night in each class. This is *astounding* to me. And by the end of the night, my arm, shoulder (delt), and neck muscles (traps)--woot woot, I remember sumthin!--(or nerves, depending) are screaming in silent agony from the all the feverish-paced writing. It wouldn't bother me quite so much except for the fact that you're so busy trying to write down all the stuff on the Powerpoint before he changes screens that you can't possibly pay attention to what he is actually saying while doing so (picture the voices of all the adults in Charlie Brown, and you'll get a sense of what class feels like most nights). So basically, we're essentially retaining nothing from class while in class. For the most part, I couldn't tell you a damn thing I've learned in class until I've gone home and scoured over my notes again. And even then, it's a puzzle to me most of the time.

This is frustrating frustrating frustrating, and yesterday I jokingly inquired about him going slower in class, and he actually seemed surprised. There is no way in *hell* that he could've gone this far teaching without EVER having this brought to his attention, but c'est la vie.

Here's to hoping I pass my first tests of the semester on Monday and Tuesday night. (I think my sweet 1970s-looking anatomical coloring book might come in freakish handy, surprisingly. I spent like 50 cents on the stupid thing, but sadly, it has by far the easiest-to-understand diagrams of the circulatory system, which is even MORE ridiculously sad seeing as i've spent $100+ on my anatomy books, and neither of them has a simple picture of the veins and arteries that a normal human being could easily comprehend. Not to mention the heart--I'll be damned if they don't even have a good clear picture of the heart and what goes where with whom. [Plus, it's always fun to get to use crayons, and scribbling all over my anatomy books with those trusty plums and mahoganies isn't quite so effective.])

Anyways, all that being said, I *do* like my instructor. I *do*. He is a bit of a nerd (he's constantly referring to his arms as "pythons" and he reads books about Quantum Physics before he goes to bed), but then again, so am I.

But I do have to say--if he pronounces the word "fiber" one more time all french-like with the emphasis on the second syllable (fi-BER) without explaining why the hell he keeps pronouncing it this way, I may have to rip his humerus out of his glenoid process and beat him over the head with it.

Word.