Monday, November 22, 2010

Standardized Anxiety

Watching me preparing to take any standardized test must be like watching someone the morning of their execution. Because, of course, this test is not merely a measure of my test-taking skills, it is an accurate and unquestionable measure of my worth as a human being. If I do not do well, the world will not end. I will die, of course, but the world will not end.

Deep down I know none of this is true, but for about twenty four hours this sort of lunacy bubbles just under the surface of my frail, silent, terrified sanity. I try chasing it away with self affirmation, but I'm so much better at sarcasm. Occasionally I can drown it in copious amounts of orange soda. Why orange soda, you ask? I honestly have no idea. But thanks for asking. This time I cried on my husband's shoulder while he affectionately told me that I am, in fact, totally insane. It worked pretty well, actually.

But anyway, I passed the GRE. Or, more accurately, I laid that sucker over my knee and spanked it.

Pity Anthro programs care so little about GRE scores.

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