Tomorrow is my big test. My big test to determine I've just got the looks of a shark and not the brain (upon editing I realized I don't know what this was supposed to mean). I'm pumped up, I've been listening to music about school shootings to calm my nerves, feeling fine. My anxiety over the test dwindled over the last few days after my family and friends assured me I would do fine, and I believe I will. I'm fairly certain that not being capable of hardcore algebra will not keep me from college, and I'm confident that the English writing assessment will go off without a hitch. I feel like I write better when I have an audience. That might be way I abandoned that robot story, I feel like I wasn't meeting some completely fictional criteria I'd imagined up and was letting you guys down, which is totally silly.
It's hot as the Devil's tear ducts right now, I can't even fathom what it's like even one mile south. I need a haircut because my skull is literally just cascading a waterfall of sweat down the craggy mountain that is my head.
I'm excited for College. Just the thought of living in a cramped space agonizing over science and all of my girlfriends makes my eyeballs sweat profusely. I'd like to end up becoming a biologist, whatever the hell that is. I know one thing is for sure:
Every single attempt to help me or suggest I do something else by my friends has resulted in a catastrophe of not doing that and in fact doing the same thing for months on end. Do you remember when I was pumped to go to New Zealand? Or perhaps when I going to be a Welder? Ha-ha. Nope! Those never happened and if they do it'll be because I stop listening to yes men and plebs.
That's a little harsh and not entirely true (I was the one who let himself get swept up in these things without really thinking, after all) but I think my point shines through: I need to take control, and after tomorrow (assuming I am told on the spot whether I'm allowed into the school or not, which probably isn't how it works) I will grab the reigns and figure out what to do. I know one thing is for sure: If I'm not accepted, I'm joining WWOOF or some similar international co-op program, paid or not. I'll visit New Zealand whether it wants me there or
not.
On the other hand, if I do get accepted, it'll up my confidence a ton and I'll get out of the emotional trailer park I wandered into earlier in the year/my life. I think I've used that phrase before, but I really think it describes me well so here we go again: I am an emotional trailer park.
I've rediscovered a joy for math. I love math. Math is concrete, a polynomial omniChrist (whatever the
fuck that means) Partially through studying and partially because I'm playing a bunch of RPG's with big numbers and lots of quick calculation and stuff.
So even if you hate my rotten angry guts, wish me luck! It might mean I'll be posting less. Or better. Batter. Mmm, pancakes. Goodbye.
Brought to you by welders in New Zealand
