After spending approximately five weeks studying for the last exam that actually matters in my life (not to mention the three weeks studying for finals), it's been predictably flat since then. The only thing getting me through was deciding exactly what I was going to do Thursday afternoon at 4:30. What ended up happening was an extremely depressing round of drinks, a less depressing dinner, and an even more depressing round of drinks. I did not a) go crazy b) wake up unconscious c) have the time of my life.
Before an exam, the stress is piled on so heavily that you can't help thinking about the whoosh of relief that comes when you walk out of the overlit and gloomy room that you spend days in and even more nights dreaming about. The problem is that the anticipation has the exact opposite effect. I walk out of a six-hour exam thinking: that's it? That's what I've spent a year sitting in classes and a month freaking out over? There's a profound sense of emptiness and a faint feeling of being cheated.
After the exam, all of us made a pact not to speak about the exam, which made the rest of the day even more depressing because we all realized that we had precious little else in common. Once we take away the major link, it just felt like a few acquaintances being forced to go out to dinner together. It might also have been that everyone was so tired that making polite conversation didn't seem humanly possible at that point.
The exam...right. It wasn't the best thing in the world.
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