something like exhaustion...

So I finished my last final today of 2011...I would cry tears of joy, but I think my tear ducts have had about enough this semester.

It's been a good, hard race. Kind of like the Ragnar. Yeah...that's the perfect analogy for this semester. During the race you keep thinking, "Why the heeeeck am I doing this? I would rather pluck all of my arm hairs off." And then it's over and you find yourself thinking, "Yeah, I could do that again. Why not? Here's a hundred bucks!"

I can only imagine what next semester will be like. Probably Ragnar, ultra-team style. Gulp.

This semester, I learned how much God is aware of me. Meaning that I really don't have anything to worry about. Seriously, nothing. And the peaceful feeling that comes with that has been hard to get used to, but very nice. I enjoy it. And it usually ends well!

For instance, yesterday morning I got up before most woodland creatures do to study for my huge-mongo Spanish final. When I walked into class to take said final, most of the boys looked like they were on the verge of pukedom. One of my friends said, "McKenzie...can you give me a blessing? I'm going to puke..." I laughed and said, "Nope...I can't. But it's going to be okay." Seriously, though. Even the redheads looked pale(r). It was going to be an epic final.

I tried to be positive (and yes, unrealistic, but that's not the point!): "Maybe he'll walk in and say, 'Merry Christmas! No final!'" We laughed nervously, and then, Hermano Rock himself walked in. He asked us about our essays that we'd turned in, made playful banter, etc. I kept thinking, "Why doesn't he get it over with and give us the final?!" It's like waiting for the nurse to give you your shot. You know, she says "Ok, here we go!" and you squeeze your eyes and try to take deep breaths and the needle is coming towards your arm but it's hurtling in slow-motion... "Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis wooooooooooon't huuuuuuuuuuuuurt." Anyways. I was pretty sure the Spanish test was going to feel like a peanut butter shot. So I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

Then. Then. Hermano Rock said, "Well, if you don't have anything else you want to discuss for the next hour and a half, you're excused." He said this in Spanish of course, so I had to check and make sure I wasn't lost in translation. I turned to the boys behind me and said, "Wait...serious?" One of them said, "Hurry, pack your stuff up before he changes his mind!" Hermano Rock will forever go down as the best Spanish professor in my book. Evah. No contest.

After that I had English. Our "final" was just submitting something we'd written onto the school's online blackboard and then the other class would judge, pick winners, etc. There were winners in Fiction, Non-Fiction, and Poetry. Apparently they also won $25 bucks at the bookstore, cha-ching. Well I sat back and relaxed and ate some cucumber slices provided by the school's catering bidnez. Until Brotha B. said, "And our winner for poetry is Ponyboy Curtis..." Yeah, that's my pen name. Deal wit it. Everyone looked around while he said, "Ponyboy?" Yes, I felt foolish at that moment for choosing such a name. But honestly, I couldn't believe nobody else picked that pen name! Some guy in the class had simply used the pound sign as his pen name. Fo'real. Ok, I'm getting off-topic now. Sooo then I had to get up in front of the class and read my poem with a shaky voice because I'm kind of bad at reading poems out loud. The end.

Now all I want to do is eat a frosty (finals week=no grocery shopping=all that's in my fridge is milk and apples and flaxseed and peanut butter). And take a really long nap. I'm talkin 12 hours. And if I could, I would get in my car (that doesn't exist) right now and drive to grandma bonnie's and upon arriving there I would collapse onto any soft surface (that includes her front yard) and then in the morning I would drive to my house while having a dance party to "Man in the Mirror" in the front seat. And I wouldn't think about school. Not one bit.