I was all gung-ho about the studying earlier this weekend, when I had an absolute eternity to study for my New Testament midterm tomorrow. Tonight? On the eve before the exam? I couldn't care less if my life depended on me passing that test. I can't wait to be done with school. It's not the knowing stuff that I mind -- I like to know stuff -- it's the game-playing, the looking-for-the-unimportant-factoids that professors love to throw on tests to freak you out and make you forget everything you'd crammed into your short-term memory as you search desperately through the void for what gospel mentions Zebediah's prophecy. I've gone to class. I've done the reading. I've taken from it what I want to. If that's enough to pass the class, even to just barely pass it, I'm ok with that.