The test wasn't awesome. Some of the questions were worded... well, badly. This wounded me. Normally on psychology exams, I am having the time of my life (really). Picture a puppy, exuberantly bounding over a grassy knoll in like, a meadow. That's me in a good test. This test was like the opposite. It wasn't that it was unduly difficult or that I wasn't prepared. It was just the wording and it pissed me off.
For the first time in my writing class, though, being a psychology major instead of an English/Lit./art major paid off. A girl was trying to use psychological theory to talk about the violent youth in some country in South America that I can't recall... maybe Brazil. But it was pretty clear that she didn't really know the theory, and she didn't mention any of the psychological disorders that we associate with criminality, like oppositional defiant disorder, conduct disorder, and antisocial personality disorder. It felt nice to be able to point her in a direction that she could do some research in to fill out her essay... mostly because she thought what I was saying was interesting and not assholey, which again, was nice.
Blah blah blah work work work weekend officially starts Friday night when Christopher's mom gets home. I might be going to a surprise party at a bar in Brooklyn that my friend, who is turning 32, is throwing for himself. I need someone who is either 21 or has ID to go with me though because it's in a far-away area of the BK and I need to make sure that I get home okay. Blech I don't think the cowboy has ID. Bastard.
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