And y'know, I'm gonna say right now that I'm really not liking how it feels.
I may or may not wax at length about this; I'm not the type to rant, and yet I AM the type to ramble, so I'll just say what intended to say. I failed my stat project, completely and utterly, which means that I'm going to fail Psychology for the semester. Which I can't tell my parents about because that would lead to having to explain why it matters, which would lead to me having to let them know about me failing all my courses last semester. Which, given my family, may very well end in criminal charges, or someone being dead.
I may sound like I'm exaggerating, but I'm telling you this isn't hyperbole. Someone may wind up dead, and I'm almost definitely going to wind up injured. So, no telling anyone I actually know.
Thus, I'm left to ramble on here,which I can do in relative safety seeing as no-one actually reads this thing. I'm not one for putting things like "LIFE SUCKS! PM me to find out why" in my sig; I've always thought that was a little tacky, and I'd feel just awkward doing something like that. Instead, I will go on at length in this isolated journal, content to be putting something up and secure in the knowledge that no-one will read it.
Why is it such a big deal? After all, it's just one project... and it's not like I'm the only one whose ever failed a stat project before. Or, you know, even their courses. Life goes on. Except that this time, I actually worked my frickin' heart out on this thing... I spent so long bent over that damn twenty-dollar calculator that not only did my neck start hurting, but I had a terrifying sense of what life would be like as an accountant. I hadn't done the first project, you see, because I'd been too intimidated by all the numbers, since math has always been a weak point, but I actually turned this one in, and for a week or so I felt pretty good. Then, you know, I got it back, and I got a zero out of twenty-five. Apparently, I did the WHOLE DAMN THING WRONG.
Sigh.
I haven't felt like this since the fifth grade, when my teacher marked my worksheet entirely incorrect because I'd done the math wrong, even though I'd gotten the right answers. (Thank you, New Math, and yes, I DO hold on to my failures.)
It's not like I blame the teacher or the TAs or anyone, or even my parents (and ect) for not being math majors; I can't even blame the classmates who helped me out (although part of me wonders if they got zeros too). It's my fault for being isolationist, I guess; I've never been any good at asking for help, probably because I think it's embarrassing, so really it's my responsibility. What drives me crazy is that I'm probably going to fail at least two of my classes, because I got pretty sick in the beginning of the semester, and I couldn't afford to go see a doctor... so I didn't have a note or anything. So the unexcused absences knocked down my grade. So... Well, you get the picture.
In the grand scheme of things, or even the minor scheme of things, I know this isn't a big deal at all. I'm not even feeling self-pitying or anything, even though it might seem otherwise; I'm used to it, and self-pity isn't really becoming of anyone. I am, however, feeling fairly disheartened, and it's not a good thing to be, because I'm apathetic in most cases and instances like this...
Yeah, well. Whatever.
Apathetic Nonchalance Community Member 
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