Finals week seems like a great idea. At the end of every semester, you are tested on your knowledge and your grades reflect that knowledge you’ve gained. Woo! Easy peasy, ja?

Nein.

Finals Week is when all your professors act like they’re the nicest people in the world while really trying to see how many challenges they can hurl your way before you die at your desk. They tell you to get lots of sleep and take study breaks, then hand you a study sheet, and multiple ways you can fail at their exam, then bid you adieu.

The thing is, the math doesn’t work out. You’re supposed to get 8-9 hours of sleep a night, take study breaks, and somehow find the time to spend about 10 hours studying/writing for each exam/paper, while still finding time to eat, bathe, and maybe go to class, which is very important. You’re automatically screwed. Then, add in the time you’ll spend procrastinating!

Also, if you claim you do not procrastinate, I’m going to call you a liar by default. Saying you don’t procrastinate is like claiming you never lie: it’s automatically false.

Basically, Finals Week is akin to having your fingers being bitten off by rats while  being forced to eat habañero peppers and recite the Odyssey by Homer with a smile on your face. It’s not possible to go through it gracefully or without pain.

Right now I’m in the midst of finals, and this is a procrastination post of inferior quality! Danke!

The Dead Matador by Edouard Manet