My room usually acts as a gauge for the pace of my life. When I’m relaxed, with little on my plate, my room is clean, save the never-shrinking pile of books on my nightstand. When I’m busy however, with no time to pick up after myself, my room looks the way it does presently:
Nightstand littered not only with books, but with knickknacks: a miniature fan from last week’s heat wave, two empty plastic cups that once held water, a plastic jewel I saved from Cherry’s mouth and then took home in my pocket by mistake, lotion that doesn’t seem to work on mosquito bites, a compass from physics class, duct tape I accidentally stole from the theatre (I’m noticing a trend here), half a dozen bobby pins, and a watch that still sports the crusty remains of Ponyboy’s “Mud Monster” afternoon.
Clothes on floor, movies on floor, empty oatmeal canisters on floor (who am I kidding? I will never use them for a craft project), several shoes on floor, sheaf of pages from my Word of the Day calendar on floor.
As I sit on the bed, typing to you in the semi-darkness (so I can’t see the pigsty that is my room, of course), I am surrounded by physics notebook, folder, and textbook, three of my research books, Anna Karenina (current ‘for fun’ read), plus camera, iPod, brush, and (goodness knows why) checkbook.
I’m ignoring everything, however, until after the GRE. That happens Wednesday. I took a practice test today, and found out that while I score in the 95th percentile for Verbal Reasoning, my Quantitative Reasoning is dismal. The thing about the GRE is that if you get an answer wrong, they give you an easier question next (and if you get one right, they give you a harder question next). Knowing this, the entire time I tested I was distracted trying to decide whether a question was harder or easier than the last. I probably shouldn’t let myself think about that on Wednesday.
No matter how it goes, however, I’ll have a phenomenal evening in store. My aunt and I are going to see this beautiful man:
Please tell me you appreciate the classic feel-good sound that is Neil Diamond. And please don’t ask me if I’m actually a 65 year-old woman in disguise. I get that enough from my mom and my sister.