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As I took my second swig of Red Bull, my roommate looked over at me.

"Oh, it's going to be one of those nights," he said.

"Yep," I replied, as wings suddenly sprouted from my back and I zipped back into my side of the shoebox, I mean, University Suite. The fact is that my life, like many students at the University, is currently a living hell of papers, presentations and tests known collectively as Midterms. This week, I've got my first test (out of two) on Quantum Physics (my journalism friends will be unhappy to see that I have unnecessarily capitalized the Q and P, but I feel it is unwise to disrespect the subject. I'm a superstitious physicist, what can I say?), a 6 - 8 page paper about the films "Singin' in the Rain" and "Pride and Prejudice," (neither of which I have watched), a massive lab report due tomorrow (which I haven't started) and a physics presentation on "Dark Matter in Minnesota."

(Gulp) More Red Bull.

Actually, I completed the last entry, my physics presentation, earlier today. It went... alright. It got off to a rocky start. First off all, I had cut myself shaving, and whenever I craned my neck in a certain way, blood would start trickling out of my neck in a vampiric way. Second, I had drank two 24 fl. oz. bottles of Diet Mountain Dew, which had me wired and belching like the dog from "Christmas Vacation." Third, I was nervous. Ridiculously nervous. My professor, a relic from the stone age, scares the living crap out of me. It wasn't the actual presentation itself that worried me, but rather the 4-minute Q and A that followed.

Finally, it was my turn to talk. I bravely stood, carefully informed the class that they shouldn't worry if I burped, bled or barfed, and launched into my topic.

I hit the ground running. My overview, which normally took me about a minute and a half, lasted 30 seconds. If I didn't slow down, I was screwed. I began discussing the Virial Theorem, originally used by Fritz Zwicky to deduce that something was amiss in the Coma cluster of galaxies; using mathematics, I showed how he determined that some INVISIBLE AND MYSTERIOUS MASS was at work, bending light: DARK MATTER.

I was feeling better now. I gained confidence, describing some of the experiments going on in my home state of Minnesota, and finally, concluded my discussion.

I handled the Q&A relatively well. It helps to present on theoretical particles, because, well, most of the answers aren't known yet. So I can just shrug and look cute when I'm stressed, something another northerner has perfected.

Afterwards came the real terror: criticism from Mr. Professor.

Silently chiding myself for not attending church last weekend, I entered his office. He was smiling.

"Sit down so I can wipe the blood off the chair," he snickered, indicating the bloody pulp of the first presenter lying in a criticized heap on the floor. Sweet Jesus.

And then came the amazing... shocking revelation... He thought I'd done WELL.

Got an A, end of story. And I'm pretty psyched about it. Not so psyched about the fact I've wasted 25 minutes writing this. Back to beating my head against the shoebox wall-- doing homework.

(Gulp)
 


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