The Dells

What's up readers? Happy Wednesday. The work week's almost halfway complete, "hump day" as they call it. After studying calculus for three straight days I'm finding that I'm making steady progress.

I truly have 'waged war' on calculus. Much like my determination on getting that scholarship last year, I'm dead set on passing this class. I'd rather die trying than give up and fail. So through frustration and bore and headaches alike, I push through and get back up after being knocked down, and I'm going to keep at it until I get a 90 on that damn test. This is when I always surprise myself. Once I hit that threshold of excessive frustration, I feel like I turn into the fucking Hulk, with pure steroids running through my veins. I use that 95th percentile brain to get what I want. And in this case it's pretty much entirely the drive to learn the difficult material to pass.

But behind the front lines of this war I have this fighting force of manipulation. In addition to being able to learn the material as a result of this determination, I've also thoroughly thought through my set of moves in order to make it as difficult as possible for my professor to enter a grade in lower than a C. It's a mix of charm and choice wording to make this guy feel both sympathy and respect for me. When you have a man's sympathy and respect, you gain a lot of breathing room.

So to follow through with this modus operandi, I've been attending between two and three office hours each day, meeting with both my professor and TA. Before my office hours, I study for a few hours at home, so I sound smart during the office hours and show off more of my progress. And guess what, it's working.

The whole learning part is obviously causing improvement, but the whole charm/manipulation deal is working better than I could have expected. Due to my exam scores, I don't have much of a prayer at passing this class. 99% of people with my exam history would drop, and try again next year. Well I say fuck that. I'm an underdog. Not only am I an underdog; I'm a hardworking, Air Force underdog who's parent's don't pay for shit, and who doesn't take handouts. And I'm willing to learn calculus in two weeks to pass.

Well my story has spread a little bit throughout the university calculus community. "There's a kid who failed TWO OUT OF HIS THREE EXAMS and is now going to three office hours a day to get an A on the final because he can't fail the class." Now I just started finding out about this recently, when TA's and professor's from OTHER CLASSES started coming to help me between 10 and 1. Today for example, three different professors and TA's ate their lunch with me while I studied with my actual professor. And half of them know my name! People who've heard about me through rumors and gossip want to believe in me.

As touching as that is, it follows the Hollywood fail-safe formula. A likable underdog, plus a daunting task for him to complete, equals a gain in support from the community. It happens every time. I've come to realize that I'm one of the few students who can't seem to pass this class but won't drop. So game fucking on. I'll put on a show come Thursday night. And after a total of over 20 hours in just two weeks, if I don't pass, my professor has failed me and he should feel like a dick.

Because if I don't pass this class, I'm gonna feel like the biggest tool on Earth for 15 days while I roam around Morocco. And I HATE feeling like a tool! The scholarship that bought me the trip in the first place will be in jeopardy, and unless I change it ONE WEEK before I leave then I'm fucked. And for 15 days I'm gonna be walking around the Medina with my head down because calculus won the war.

But regardless, Karen and I booked our trip to South Beach. Our spring break will make Panama and Daytona and Frat Fuckthissucksdale look like Wisconsin. And of course we got Miami Heat tickets, we have to do it right. And since I can't think about my Morocco trip without a guilty conscience due to my Calculus grade, I've resorted to getting excited about Miami. Let me tell ya, I am STOKED. I'm on trip advisor reading reviews with an ear to ear smile, beginning to micro-plan our trip to ensure it's absolutely perfect.

But then, for some odd reason I became sad last night thinking about it. I remembered my late great Aunt Claire. Aunt Claire was a nun, she didn't get out much. Her world revolved around her love for her family. No money, no ski trips or motorcycles, her life revolved around pure love. My family visited her once a year until she died, every labor day weekend. As a 10 year old, it was consistently the most boring three days of my life. The last time we visited her humble convent, we all had a bitter feeling that it'd be our last visit. As Aunt Claire's health deteriorated, her love never diminished.

She became slightly delusional about her health, thinking she was still able to do all the things she could do her whole life. Her boldness lead her to tell us about wanting us to take her waterskiing, or to amusement parks, or ball games. The more her health declined the more irrationally she wanted to take us somewhere she couldn't go.

On our last labor day visit, we saw her in her assisted living room. With oxygen tubes and IV's taped all over her, she showed us a trip she had planned to the Wisconsin Dells. She had ordered videos and pamphlets and pricing options for hotel rooms. She talked about that trip to Wisconsin Dells for hours. We tried to tell her that a field day at the Dells is completely out of the question for a woman of her age and condition. She took it pretty hard.

But what makes me the saddest, is when I realize that her excitement and anticipation for taking her great nephew to a waterpark, could only be matched by my excitement for going to South Beach. It sucks, it really sucks, but she died with that excitement and anticipation still built up. She was a woman who gave nothing but love her whole life, and when she wanted to give anything else it was too late. I hope to God by the time she died she realized the latter wasn't important.

Until next time...