Not like I was really holding my breath, but I’ve been wondering how my Subject GRE for Literature in English turned out. Kind of obsessively checking the mailbox since Saturday, when I realized the scores had been “sent” to Drake.
% Below: 44
Correct: 124, Incorrect: 53, Unanswered: 53
Formula Score: 111
I’ll be honest, I don’t know what any of that actually means. It’s not good, though. Scores range from 200-990. Most schools I was interested in want a 600. The average score is 541.
I feel very mediocre. Below average. Unimpressive. Just another kid avoiding the real world through advanced education.
I am having another bad Monday. (I even sort of feel like a fat, orange cat. Eew.) Actually, the last few days have been Mondays. Being sick the beginning of last week through me off. Coming back and working Friday felt like Monday, and then Saturday and Sunday felt like Monday, too. But today is definitely Monday because it’s a bad day. I spent my morning on hold waiting to find out why my stupid GRE account won’t work. I need to order my official score reports to all the colleges I would like to attend, but apparently the confirmation and registration numbers, my undergraduate institution code, and my email address are not valid. I find that interesting. The easy-to-do-stuff is never actually easy, is it? After battling the phone system and getting nowhere, I realized that I accidently made plans during work on Saturday. Damnit. Which then highlighted the fact that I work Tuesday-Saturday. Not an attractive schedule. Then I went to French class and failed a test. C’est lundi. ::le sigh::
But the tense frustration from today couldn’t hold its own against speeding all over town while blasting Evolver. Thanks, John, for appeasing yet another day.
I cringe, in fact I actually turn away, during moments in movies or shows when people make fools of themselves. Prime examples include when Janey and Jeff first met in Girls Just Want to Have Fun, when Derek thought he won Male Model of the Year in Zoolander, and every interaction between Codex and Zaboo in The Guild. That is why it is so hard for me to admit what I’m going to write right now: I was a week off with my GRE test date. I couldn’t deceive my many blog readers (all three of you. Hi friends!), but I really wanted to. Thankfully, the date is a week off in my favor–next Saturday is the test. I have a somewhat legitimate reason to have been confused, but that doesn’t change how embarrassed I am. I want to flee the scene when I think about it because I feel like I’m the kid wearing the dunce cap in the corner of the one-room school house. Or maybe like Seth when Becca finds his dick drawings in Superbad. Either way, it’s not good and I can’t look away because it’s my bad moment. I lay myself at your feet and beg of you to overlook this distressing admission of mine.
(Although this might be for the best. Now I just want the damn thing over with. I’m tired of dreaming the definitions of insidious and invidious and perspicacious. And I’m getting entirely too much sleep.)