So tomorrow I take the ACT. Again. For the fourth time. Call me obsessive if you wish; I know I can do better. (At least I'd better do better if I want to stay part of my family.) A twenty-something is an average score, and an upper-twenty-something is something most parents and colleges would be excited about. Not my parents, and not OCU. I have to get a 30. Repeat. This is my mantra. I must get a 30. I must be discounted ten-thousand dollars. Little dollars. Ten-THOUSAND of them. That's a lot of dollars.
I have been studying out of this damned ACT-practice book (that cost entirely too much for something made from recycled newspaper) for about a week and a half now, and during many a science reasoning practice run I have found myself longing to slit my wrists. I'm not even IN school any more. I graduated. I should be thinking thoughts that don't even BEGIN to relate to the Pythagorean Theorem, and directing my energy towards things that matter: A job. Money. Writing. Blithering on and on and on about musicals to anyone who will listen. Playing a hell of a lot more Capture the Flag. Consuming at least double the amount of blue popsicles I have had this summer. (Note: my total is one. I am not a cow.)
Tomorrow I will wake up hideously early for a Saturday in June, throw on clothes, wrestle a brush angrily through my hair, and stomp downstairs. I will toast myself a tiny bagel (because I don't like the word "mini") and stomp off to Jill, who will stomp off to QuikTrip so that we can have a nice drink together - me, syrupy coffee; her, very very expensive gasoline espresso. (How strange, to realize that coffee is, basically, bean juice. Wouldn't it be great if we could grow petroleum beans? Oh wait... that's ethanol.)
I will be so happy at noon tomorrow that you, my friend, may actually feel the happiness waves radiating off my person when the timer for section 4 has sounded - like Jean Grey when she got pissed and started doing menacing things with her mind, like levitating rocks. Oh - and vaporizing people. (But I won't do that. My happiness waves will only pleasantly tickle.)
I will go ghost-hunting. Mark my words. And it will be so damn fun. And I'll shoot myself a ghost, and tack it to my wall like a trophy. In fact, I dare any ghosts to try and scare me. I DARE THEM!!!!
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