What the hell did I know?

I remember leaving Port Washington High School on the morning that I took the ACT and thinking, "Heh. This is the last standardized test I'm ever going to have to take."

Heh. I was wrong.

I didn't exactly freak out over the ACT. I mean, don't get me wrong. I freaked out. But there was no wailing or gnashing of teeth or anything, which is remarkably restrained for someone like me, Keeper of All Things Academically Crazy. I had studiously avoided the practice tests that my mom tried to get me to take, and I was going on like three hours of sleep (WHAT? It's not my fault that John Paul II's funeral was on the night before and I stayed up to watch it. I was being a good Catholic.), and there wasn't any heavy-duty screaming or crying or anything. I remember being generally okay with the whole thing, mostly annoyed because it took forfreakingever.

That was four years ago. I just registered for the GRE, which I was supposed to do earlier this summer but studiously avoided because as long as I'm not sending scores to anyone, I'm still a kid, right? RIGHT? Yeah. Apparently, I've changed a little bit. Because I'm freaking out. Royally.

Quietly. But royally.

(My mom keeps looking over at me and going, "Are you okay?"; "Still doing okay?"; "Wow, I'm impressed. I thought there would be screaming.", as though I were a victim of PTSD or just went through a bad breakup or something.)

Make no mistake. I'm stressed. I'm not feeling ready, every word I've ever learned in my entire life has completely left my brain, and despite the fact that half the schools I'm applying to don't even require the damn thing, I'm convinced that I'll do so poorly I won't get in anywhere. But I'm not screaming.

Yet.

Give me a few days. Then I'm guessing you'll be able to hear me.

Meanwhile, I need to start hitting the novenas, like, hard. I mean, I want a graduate degree in theology to help glorify God, right? So shouldn't He be slightly responsible for helping me get admitted? I think so.

But wait. I think the best part of this whole, entire, nausea-inducing process is the part where I put in my credit card number and was charged $150 for the PRIVILEGE OF GOING THROUGH THIS, THIS WHAT SURELY DESERVES ITS OWN CIRCLE OF HELL.

That was my favorite.