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Get Out There And Tear Your Finals A New One

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finals week

Oh my God, it’s almost upon us. Finals week is coming, and it wants to make mincemeat out of you.

Are you ready? Well, that depends. You may have neglected most of your lecture notes, opted not to go to any review sessions, and/or attended less than 35% of your classes. That doesn’t matter. Real character and heroism is revealed in the most dire situations, and those tend to hit you hard and out of nowhere. Sure, there’s a lot to be said for preparation. I’m not trying to take anything away from those of you that have worked hard all semester. But some people just aren’t wired for that, and now they’ve got to condense an entire semester’s worth of studying into a few days. Grab a coffee and buckle up. We’re going to get through this together.

What you need right now is a sustained period of uncommon effort and unparalleled dedication. You’ve got a 200-question exam coming up? That thing is fucking Osama bin Laden, and you know who’s going to take him down? SEAL Team YOU. Got a 15-page paper on business ethics due at midnight? Take just enough Adderall to have you on the brink of a nervous breakdown, then pound that sucker out in two hours. The other day, I submitted a paper that my professor described as “a disjointed, incoherent collection of half-formed ideas that sets out to do a lot of things, but does not accomplish any of them.” But you know what? I fucking passed. If that professor had ever read my work on this website, she would’ve known what to expect and could’ve just marked that “C” on the paper without even reading it, but that’s beside the point.

That anxiety you feel from letting ample studying opportunities slip away from you? Harness it. Let it marinate inside of you until the people around you can smell the fucking barbecue. Feel like taking a break? Sorry. You’re in the prime of your life, neck deep in the gauntlet of finals. You can rest when your coffin is being lowered into the ground. Right now you need to kill your exam, then pallbear the fuck out of it, accidentally drop your end of the coffin while walking down the aisle, and try to make a move on its grieving wife after the procession — the whole nine yards.

After all, this is the time to go scorched earth. This can be your finest hour.

Now get to it.

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WJ Cope

He's the real reason people say "No one likes you when you're 23."

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