Standardized

And then, it was upon me.

Yes, friends. It's time for the Graduate Record Examination. Oh, who would have thought in their wildest and most inappropriate dreams that I would finally take the plunge. Steps forward! Plans! Life changes? Progress.

It's been an interesting pre-GRE week. I realized after returning from Atlanta on Monday that I probably could have studied more. That prior-to-test panic set in when I realized that July 11 was, in fact, just a few days away. I had set the date months ago, believing that, after years of putting off the damn test, that if I forced myself to work towards something, instead of "studying" and deciding when I was ready, that that would be motivation enough to get to it. Yet and still, I did not realize just how quickly four weeks could disappear. They are officially gone, and it is GREve.

Since Tuesday, I have hardly turned on the television in an attempt to Get Serious. My studies were preempted, ironically, by Madre on Tuesday night when she called me to ask if I was watching the Michael Jackson special on 20/20. She seemed surprised when I told her no, I was studying. How far we've come since the days of Only Educational Television on School Nights, and, No You Can't Go to Homecoming Until That Engligh Paper Is Finished, or, Don't Even Think About Coming Downstairs For A Glass of Juice Until You Can Summarize Othello. Once, senior year, I was even barred from the famed Lessons & Carols because my Statistics project wasn't finished. But now, oh now, Madre is shocked by my alleged diligence. The following words actually came forth from her lips, though not intended, apparently, to be mean: "When the hell did you get so dedicated?" I suppose she wasn't ready for The Focused Me, as I am still trying to build such a reputation. How tables do turn.

Wednesday I tried to remember how I used to study (not that it worked too well). Instead of sitting at my desk, which weekly became cluttered with US History quizzes and varsity tennis schedules, I would spread out on the floor, nestled up by the radiator on cold nights, and mess around in the class notes, problems sets, outlines. Headphones connected to walkman since I wasn't allowed to listen to music either (yes, I said walkman), I studied most comfortably this way. So on Wednesday, Libro de GRE and I stretched out on the floor, along with massive sheets of scratch paper, and worked through the Pythagorean Theorem and some isosceles triangles. It felt good, and I actually got a little excited about this test.

Then I remembered the motivator of all motivators: Josh Groban. What? Yes. Josh. Oh how did I enjoy him throughout the final years of colleage, crooning and pushing me along through exams and papers. I mean let's be honest - he doesn't have an Eye of the Tiger type jam on there that gets you bouncing around on your toes. It was just... nice. So I threw that on last night as I sat at the desk. Josh! Where have you been? There you are. Thanks for coming.

For some reason, I'm feeling good today. I'm not stressed, per se, about this test. I dream of being the genius I'm not, of numbers like 1380 and 1520 - numbers I am certain to never see living next to my name. But maybe I need to go on and believe that maybe I will. I actually had a fleeting moment last night while brushing my teeth that maybe I would see numbers like that, or at least close to those numbers. Gift-wrapped in a neat little package, sitting at my doorstep one day like a Christmas present. And there the number would be, big, bold, and in 3D, like the numbers on that ING commercial. What's your number?

I know I'm not defined by this number. But I used to believe I was. In prior days at a certain school you were defined by a number, and if your number wasn't high enough, you were shoved gently to the side to make way for the Good Ones. Now I realize that this was ridiculous. And I am ok with knowing that 2009 is not 1998.

I think I'm delirious enough now that I have no idea what I'm talking about, and neither do you, probably. I kind of feel like I'm in that Zone now and, as such, am making no sense. But I do know that I have a plan for tomorrow.

1) I will wear jeans, flip flops, and a shirt yet to be chosen. Favorite sweatshirt will be included in backpack, in case there's a chill.
2) Winston the Panda will join me on this journey, providing positive vibes from the bottom of aforementioned backpack.
3) I will rise at approximately 5:45 am, shower, dress, and consume an omelet with undetermined ingredients.
4) I will listen to Josh Groban.
5) I will remember that I am actually smarter than I give myself credit for, that I have a small yet strong following of people who are truly invested in my success, both near, far, wherever they are, and that I am not my number.

I have nothing to lose.