I have a group project at school. With those seven words, you can pretty much tell the story of what’s going on with the group project. We’re in hell. We have one tiny dictator and the remaining three are just tired, worn-out and just want to be finished.
Group school projects aren’t always bad and I’ve worked on one that was a joy. I’ve worked on others that were pleasant. I can’t say that I’ve worked on one like this current one. Hell. Hell. Hell. Actually, hell is a funny word since that’s the word that kicked off the rage of the tiny dictator. If you’ve ever seen the Hitler parodies on youtube, you know what I mean about tiny dictators and rage over stupid stuff. In fact, I think I may go watch one of those right now to put everything back into perspective.
My other class is nearing completion too. I had a presentation last week in which I was less than stellar. Really, I thought I sucked and that’s not one of those false modesty things. I really just phoned it in. My grade came back this week–95%. Heck, I work hard and I get strife. I phone it in and I get an A. Go figure.
*My sister once emailed me about a drama-trauma situation and she spelled it trama. It’s my preferred way to talk about the fake drama that wells up in situations that really don’t deserve it.
I don’t get why that always happens but it’s true for me as well…”Heck, I work hard and I get strife. I phone it in and I get an A. Go figure.” Pretty much the story of my life.
Yeah, it’s weird. And, it makes no sense.