I have a meeting with my professor in twenty minutes. I’m so, so nervous. I haven’t been able to do a single productive thing all day, because I keep glancing at the clock and thinking, “Holy MOTHER of GOD, SEVEN HOURS UNTIL I MEET WITH HIM, WHAT ON EARTH AM I GOING TO DO?”
He’s intimidating. That’s all there is to it. I got my essay back a few days ago, and he hated it with a fervent passion. He took his red pen and destroyed it, slashing his way through every last paragraph. He wrote “unclear” and “vague” so many times I think they lost their meaning. Somewhere in there he just put, “You no longer seem to understand the prompt,” then he apparently gave up on the last two pages and didn’t write anything but a desperately unhappy question mark. Finally, at the end, he simply wrote, “This was NOT your best effort of the term.” Not underlined twice. Which is unfortunate, because (and this is so demoralizing to admit) I actually worked really hard on this paper. Like really, REALLY hard. I worked harder on this paper than I did the last one, at any rate, and on that one he wrote, “This has real potential.”
I can’t read your mind, dude! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
On the plus side… TOMORROW IS DECEMBER.