Wanting to pay attention in class, and not being able to

So, I failed the Speech Science test. Yep. 63%.

You know, (warning, I feel a rant coming on) I'm so sick of my self-esteem teetering on how well I do on tests about topics that do nothing to help me. These classes are not beneficial to me. They are teaching me nothing that I care to know. Or need to know. I will never need to know whether a FFT would show harmonic peaks or fundamental frequencies or a clown smoking weed with Michael Phelps. It doesn't matter, and I don't care. And I shouldn't have to feel bad about myself because I don't know it.

I think I came closer to a mental breakdown in the Testing Center than I ever have in my life. I know I say that all the time, but I really do mean it. I panicked, I really did. Air raced in and out my lungs at about the same speed as my heartbeat, which rivaled a psycho woodpecker. I was certain that I was going to faint. The words sort of swirled around, I know now what it's like to be dyslexic. I couldn't read, I could barely see, and I was positive that I would fail. Which I did. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Probably. But what else could I do? I had to get out of that place. I answered what I could and guessed on what I couldn't. I've never been a good guesser.

I wish I could feel some inspiration to write. That would soothe me, I think.