Sittin', Waitin', Wishin'

My MCAT scores should come in this week. So everyday I do this Bataan death march to the mailbox, stick the key in the hole, and pray that they're not in there. And so far, I've been lucky. No scores. But they're bound to come sometime, so I'm trying to prepare myself. That means I've been spending a lot of time talking to Jesus...and mumbling to myself...and playing out every possible scenario.

• Getting above a 30 and immediately celebrating myself into a drunken stupor, killing all the brain cells that I'll no longer require for standardized testing.
• Getting a 29 and immediately slitting my wrists at the mailbox because I have a harder time rationalizing near-success than I do failure.
• Getting the same score I got last time and thinking back on all the nights I could have been out drinking, dancing, and enjoying my life rather than sitting and torturing myself with physics, chemistry, and biology.
• And for the love of God please no- doing worse than I did last time. This will be the worst possible outcome. Although really anything below a thirty is going to suck and pretty much guarantee that I become either a DO (which I'm kind of okay with), organ coordinator for the rest of my life (which I'm really not okay with), nurse (because I think I'd eventually try to go to nursing school but then I would actually have become my mother which takes us back to the wrist slashing scenario), or hobo (because I would definitely lose the will to pay rent, and trains are cool.)

During today's trip to the mailbox I contemplated intelligence. I've always been the "smart girl" in the class, but let's do some critical thinking here, people. I went to school in Alabama. If you can't shine by comparison in the state that is validated only by the existence of Mississippi, there's a problem. My high school took money that was meant to update textbooks from the 80's, and used it to purchase talking trash cans for the cafeteria. Were people not figuring out what to do with their disposable trays full of leftover concession stand nachos?! Was there an issue with the operation of an open garbage bag?! Honestly if that was the problem, talking trash cans weren't the answer. Shorter buses, perhaps.

So, I don't know what's going to happen. And I'm terrified. And for a while I was comforted by the whole, "I studied like crazy for that exam, so no matter what happens, I know I did my best." But when I really think about it, how is that comforting?!? If you did your best and you sucked, it means that the best you can do is really not much good to anyone. I guess this is how people break into the fast food industry.