Would someone please call a surgeon who can crack my ribs


So, yeah. By now, I think we all know that Lizzie is taking the GRE on Wednesday (because I have no delusions about my readership: those of you who aren’t ‘jibans are flesh-life friends, and I’ve told you all about it. Ad nauseum, I’m sure). As is my wont, I put off studying for the fucker until the last minute. There are a number of reasons I did this: up until I started taking practice tests, I was suffering under the delusion that my reading comprehension skillz hadn’t suffered in the slightest since graduating college five years ago. Also, I was mad that I had to give up an entire weekend* to studying. In addition to all that, I’m still a consummate procrastinator.

I mean, look at this here: I should be studying. Instead of it, I’m sitting here writing about how freaked out I’ve become because of the studying. Awesome**.

But I very nearly burst into tears at the library earlier today after scoring my long Verbal Practice test (it’s 125 questions). I got a 74% on it. Can you see why I nearly started crying? It’s not so much the test itself that’s doing the freak out, it’s the what-ifs that come after the test. What If I’m Not Good Enough? What If I don’t get into any of the schools I’m applying to? (At the same time, and conversely, I absolutely refuse to believe that I’m not smart enough to excel in an academic environment. In fact, one of the few things I’m certain about is my severe case of smarty-pantsness. So this just confuses and freaks me out even further.)

I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if I don’t get into grad school. As far as I’ve been able to ascertain, there’s really no other course that’s going to work for me wherein I’ll end up with a measure of happiness.

So there you have it. Lizzie does freak out over tests sometimes, just like everyone else. And now I shall return to trying to teach myself the Geometry I never quite learned in high school.



*With the exceptions of punching a guy’s sushi v-card Saturday night and going grocery shopping Sunday morning, that is.
**By which I mean that this is the complete opposite of awesome.



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