No, no. Let’s start with Wednesday. I got up around 11…had 2 Eggo waffles for breaky. Took a shower, made my hair presentable. Drove downtown…got there around 2:15…but couldn’t figure out parking til damn near 3:00. (Yes, vair-vair-annoying!) I take my focus meds (ie: mutant pills that make me able to pay attention long enough to complete math exercises…then I’m off. Checked in on the 2nd floor of the Citizen’s Trust Building. They offered to let me sit in the waiting room but I opted to study in my car.
Back in the Saelamobile, watching square root videos on my laptop (spliggies to whoever left their wifi open…dig, dig.) 3:47, I get out and head back upstairs. I’m in the waiting room by 3:50. I’m nervous, looking over my study sheets which are suddenly written in Arabic (my handwriting) and I no longer know anything about math, let alone reading or English (the language I speak for shit sake!). Ringing my hands. It’s 4:05…where’s whomever to walk me to the plank? 4:07…4:17…4:21 “Fraizer?!”
“We’ve been calling for you since three o’clock!!!” (She’s a liar, no they haven’t, but now’s not the time to argue.) She has me lock up all my belongings in a locker (even the Yale sweatshirt I grabbed out of the trunk of my car out of desperation and total fear of freezies!)
Comma splice, yes I know. She’s angry with me, tells me to hurry as I’m already late.
The test was shit. Even Reading and Writing (which I’m really good at and you know this because you came here to read me) was not as easy peezy as usual. Not that I studied for it…cause…how do you study for that? The Math though? I studied a good solid two weeks for. Two weeks of re-teaching myself algebra…which I hadn’t even seen in at least 7 years. Then. I get to the test and the first thing I see looks NOTHING like ANYTHING I’ve studied. I’m instantly terrified and quite literally fucked. Everything I had heard about this stupid test revolved around it being one of those computerized joints where it starts off easy (yeah the fuck right!) and then gets harder. Everyone said the more you get right, the longer and harder it gets. (THAT sounded sexual, did it not?!) So you can imagine my panic when I realized that none of the questions looked familiar. Then the utter despair as the test “ended” after only a few questions.
My life, was over. I felt I couldn’t have possibly answered enough questions…let alone CORRECTLY for the damn thing to be done. But I gathered my things from the locker, hurried into the elevator. Power-walked to my car…where I cried hysterically. I had spent time and money applying, registering, traveling…all for it to end with me definitely knowing I failed the section I studied the hardest for. Cried all the way to Kroger. Went in for a 6-pack. Fought off a wolf offering to purchase said 6-pack for me (he wanted to cheer me up, but what stranger wants to cheer you up and not fuck you? You are, after all a hot babe…regardless of your mathematical shortcomings!) Hurried off with my Sam Adams Coastal Wheat (Get this, I meant to grab the Summer Ale instead! I suck at math and life!).
Made it home where I yammered on to Anna, crying about how I was a failure and how I’d be stuck with [name removed] forever. The more we talked, the more I realized all wasn’t lost…and that my plans to leave Dallas (and said removed name) didn’t have to change. I drunk the whole six-pack all the same though…I felt sooooo defeated. Even without my letter of denial. Even without knowing how bad the math scores were (get this, even though they know immediately whether you’ve passed or failed, you are required to wait for the letter in the mail with your results.) I just felt lukewarm suicidal.
Then, around 3 am I get a text from “Tall Dark Talented Anatomically Perfect” (Who had been giving me the silent treatment for what seemed like 9 years) saying he hoped I had done well, and how he wished he could have seen me while they were in town playing the Braves. And that he missed me.
Angry-drunk Saela wanted to curse him out. (2 weeks is a long time to punish someone for an innocent joke…) But I wasn’t angry drunk Saela. I was…”Angry 6-beers isn’t enough to get me drunk” Saela. So I told him what I really felt. (None of y’alls business 
) And I went to sleep.
Woke up the next day…check my app status online (tiny loophole to that waiting for the letter shit) Come to find out even though you can’t get your scores online, you CAN see if you’re accepted. And guess what? I was. So I made up with someone who’s important to me, got accepted to school (even though the battle has just begun) and I had a Dreamsicle all in one day. Yeah, I know, I typed all this bs just to say that. You mad?
