Dear Grad School You are Killing me

Its 9:07 am on a Wednesday morning, and I have been sitting in this fine lecture hall for over an hour. The seats are arranged in theatre style and made from fine scandinavian wooden craftsmanship. The seats are comfortable enough for hour one, but without doubt my broken tailbone will be pulsating with pain by hour three of this unending nightmare. It is the final presentations of the year so I should be filled with joy... but instead dread haunts my spirit. You see, my group and I have not yet been given the opportunity to perform -- yes perform if you have ever seen me speak publicly you know my hand gestures rival that of a sign language translator. Yet I know the minute we get up in front of the class, with our best effort try to relay the information we have learned, I know we are going to be ripped to shreds. This criticism has nothing to do with our abilities, simply a different teaching style than I am used to, and will never quite adapt to properly. While some may enjoy being lambasted and see it as an opportunity for improvement, I am filled with uncontrollable rage and want to kick the nearest puppy. Presentations cause undue stress, and since I am on a chocolate diet for the next three weeks (something about gaining 20 million pounds in france this weekend) there really is no cure in sight! Alas back to my online shopping so I can pretend that I am actually in a happy world of extreme commercialism surrounded by pretty packaging and delightfully indulgent goods... instead of this lecture hall of terrors!