It's a beautiful Friday morning after Christmas. First time in a week it's pitch blue clear. I am at my desk, conducting last minute studying for the GMAT and I wish I were anywhere but here. I could be riding my bike over the Seven Sisters or careening down KT-22. Momentarily, I will head to the pool and sit in the hot tub because right now I am freezing. I'm either shaking from the cold or from the coffee I had earlier this morning before I went to work on becoming a sentence correcting ninja.
Last night, I could not sleep, again. Sheer nervousness, I think. And obviously, taking a test is far more nerve racking than the pool torture used to be because I slept so well before going to the pool. Not so much now. I lay in bed last night reading my laptop and heard noises in my empty house. I'm not normally the type to get scared about noises. I've always felt that I'm more frightening than anything that might have come into my house. However, I was in a weakened mental state, what with the GMAT looming before me. If I were superhero, I'd be battling whatever enemies exist, but at some point one of them would whip out a computer with the GMAT on it and start beating me to death with it. Anyways, I'm lying there in bed, lights off, staring at my laptop and I head something. One side of my brain recognizes the sound as the toilet gurgling. The other side of the brain screams in protest. No you idiot, it's someone in the house! Well, says the other side, I'm not really afraid of most people, even burglars. But what if this isn't any burglar? What if this is some highly trained psychopathic killer who is highly aggressive and skilled in killing people slowly and happens to have picked this house for a specific reason!?!?!?!?!?!?!!? I turned off my monitor to get better night vision and listen for more sounds. This battle rages in my mind for many more minutes until finally I have to get up and pee. Eventually, I decide to drug myself to sleep. At the very least, if I'm asleep, I can't be afraid of any uber assasins roaming through my house.
My dad thinks its great that I'm even taking the GMAT. This implies that my fear of taking tests is so great that I would just choose to do something else because I wouldn't want to take a test. Regardless of how I do on Saturday, I worry that my desire to beat this will consume me. I'll be some homeless man wandering Chestnut St. with a stack of GMATS. I won't panhandle. Instead, I'll threaten people with permutation questions and then beat them down with differences of squares. I'll lurk by ATMs and mutter at people as they get money, "What's the diagonal of that $20 bill you motherfucker!!!!!!!???????"
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