Monday, May 23, 2011

And Now, The Waiting: MCAT results still 29 days away (0)...

The problem is, I might be going mad (0).

Before I continue on with this post, I would like to promise - both to myself and to you, and for no other reason than that it will be interesting - that I won't go back and delete anything that I write for the rest of this post (1). Normally, I write lots of cool stuff, then take it down for fear of revealing the internally-raging tempest that comprises my thoughts (2). For your sake, I hope you can come to figure out what these numbers mean, otherwise it will probably drive you nuts (1). No, they're not random, and yes, that means there's a pattern (0). I'll correct spelling and other mundane mistakes, but I won't take out the content (1). This time, I'd like you to know my inner storm, so I'm keeping it all just exactly the way it spills out (1). If this goes well, I'll consider continuing to try and always post posts significantly similar to those that take tricky turns and allow unexpected usage of overtly even expressions of outrageously paired pairings aimed at amazing alliteration (16).

Continuing (0):

You see, I have this tendency toward impatience (1). Not so much about the little things - waiting for my accidentally-close-cropped finger/toenails to grow back in, chewing on a saltine cracker long enough for my mouth's salivary amylase to turn the starches into glucose and make it taste sugary, or waiting for Nicole's leftovers to get old enough that she doesn't want them anymore so that I can eat them (2). For those things, I usually find it pretty easy to be patient (1). However, with the somewhat LARGER bits of life that come much fewer and further between, this is not so much the case (0). How should I say it (0)... For the bigger deals, I tend to mentally maul them to death, and a tough, tasteless, bland death at that (4). You know what it's like when you chew a piece of gum for way, way too long (1)? It's like that, only in my brain, and it has only been two days since I took the test (1). I have tried distracting myself, and I've been successful for several minutes in a row a couple of times, but as soon as my current task is complete, there's that sugarless piece of Bazooka Joe just sitting like a dense rock inside my skull (1).

A little bit ago, I tried looking up other peoples' reactions to their MCAT scores (0). There's a forum online where people talk anonymously about how they were doing on the practice tests leading up to the real deal, how they were preparing and studying, how they ended up scoring, and whether or not they should retake the test (1). Now, if I continue the trend in scores that I had been displaying during the practice test sequence, I won't be retaking the test (2). In fact, I would be ecstatic - not because my scores were incredible, but because I would get in somewhere (0). Unfortunately, I kind started to drive myself crazy, reading probably 150+ posts by people running the whole gamut of practice and real score combinations (0). Many people had lower practice test scores than I did, and some had higher scores (1). However, some who had practice test scores like mine leading up to the day-of ended up doing really poorly (1). That's not cool (0). I'm hoping and praying that I will end up like one of those who did just like they had during the practice tests (0). The thing is, I never felt good about my practice test scores during those few moments between finishing and clicking "Next" to see my actual scores (1). In fact, I totally DREADED that moment of clicking that terrible "Next" button because every time, I was SURE that my score had to be worse than the last time I took a practice test (1). That is just like how I feel right now (0). The difference is that this moment is lasting 31 days instead of 3.1 seconds (1). The result: a Justin who thinks himself in neat little circles about 118 times per day (0). I told myself, "You gotta not think about this," and since I was getting excessively wound up by my inability to do anything but that, I decided to write this post (0).

So, I think you see my dilemma (0). The good news is that if you would like to help, there's something you can do (0)! Whenever you feel like it, please try to distract me (1). Send me loads of funny or tragic or scary or stupid stuff in the form of emails, comic strips, news stories, viral videos or text messages (2). I would even enjoy any exceptionally nasty comments you could come up with (2). I'd rather spend my time writing emails trying to reply to snide remarks about my nostril size than spend it thinking over every single question that I was instructed to not remember but just can't seem to help remembering, wondering if the number correct will tally up high enough over the number incorrect to make things turn out well (1). Pray that I don't drive Nicole insane, too (1). I tend to be more crotchety and irritable and old-man-on-his-porch-with-his-rifle-and-rocking-chair-telling-kids-to-GET-OFF-MY-LAWN-ish when I've got something like this on my mind, which is really not cool (1). Someone who is good at woodworking could make her a slap paddle to use (0). You know, something like one of those big foam fingers you get at sporting events, only made out of really durable wood, and with an extendable handle so she can just smack me with it from wherever she's standing if I start worrying that tasteless mental gum with my brain teeth (3)...

Now I'm starting to ramble (though I'm sure it won't be the last time), and I haven't even mentioned everything I'd like to (0)! Today, Nicole and I had a GREAT morning (0). It was very pleasantly distracting, and didn't even feel like a Monday morning (1). We went to Jacki's Place, a small restaurant about 1.5 miles from our house that specializes in good breakfasts for not too much money (0). That made me happy; it was close by (not much gas spent to get there), it was very tasty (I loved me a Hungry Man Special) and it was CHEAP (about $16.00 for all the breakfast we could eat, including tip!) (1)! After that, we took Naiya to the pet store for more dog food, a (Nyla)bone that she could eat (since, after her bout with pancreatitis, she is no longer allowed rawhide bones) and some treats that are coordinately conducive to her disadvantageous diet yet taste like peanut butter, an additional delectable delicacy outrageously outlawed by both treacherously tenable and annoying digestive dispositions (11). ALLITERATION AGAIN (1)!

I guess it wasn't that outrageous of a morning; after all, nothing new happened, like finding a talking puppy who knew my name and wanted to be my friend or seeing solar eclipses or figuring out a way to store gravity in some kind of awesome gravity battery - "A Convenient Solution to your Gravity Needs - for the moments when you find yourself 'unattractive.'", but I loved it anyway (3). My morning was great though, just being outside, driving around, not worrying about getting back to study or do anything in particular, and spending some quality time with "my girls," as Nicole likes to put it (2). So yeah, it was a great morning this morning (0). It also helped that my car has been getting some GREAT gas mileage since I had the air filter replaced (0). Normally, I get around 220-240 miles on a tank of gas (around 12 gallons) (0). Right now, I'm on mile 281 and the little bar is still a bit above the empty line (0)! At first, I thought that it might be a combination of the fact that I got the air filter replaced and I decided to try out the premium gasoline because I heard that it might give some cars better gas mileage (2). After actually doing a little reading, I found out that this wouldn't be the case with my car, as it only really makes a difference for the higher-end, high compression engines like big V8s or the nicer Lexus SUVs (2). For my '04 CR-V (who is named Swarley, by the way; like Charley, but better), more expensive gas is just more expensive gas (0). So, the better mileage is apparently completely due to my new air filter (0)! So, for those of you that haven't gotten an air filter replaced in 2+ years, you might want to give that a try; it actually makes a difference (1).

As far as plans for the rest of the week go, I think I'm going to let strangers put thin pieces of metal through Naiya's skin while squirting highly-researched chemicals throughout them into her bloodstream (0). It's been too long since her last visit, and I know how she loves it so (0). I might also get some of my more lengthy follicles sliced down to a more agreeable tip-to-scalp distance, as that tends to help me appear less like a wandering vagabond (1). Other than that, I got Portal 2 for Mac, which should be a very fun game that will provide me with a greater amount of mental stimulation than most video games; not only is it challenging control-wise, but it's tough just wrapping your mind around it in terms of spatial comprehension (2). It causes you to regularly readjust your concept of "down," something that most adults whose professions involve equipment other than the trapeze don't have to do on a regular basis (2). Seriously, if you like video games or science fiction, you should try it, or at least check out some of the trailers here (1). It's amazing how awesome video games have come to look during in-game play (0)... This game has better in-game graphics than the best movie segments of any game older than two years (2). It has been several years since I last bought or played a computer game, so it has been a lot of fun seeing what a more recent game is capable of (0). Granted, I only just started the first level last night, but still - amazing (1).

With that, I think I will get going (0). You see, I wish I could write so much more - about the new-egg-drop-soup-looking laundry detergent that Nicole made and I (with some happy success!) used to wash a load of laundry the other day, or the awesome discovery that it only costs us $5.34 per MONTH to run our fan every night (I have a remote for it, which is awesome), or even about how the belligerent moles in our backyard are really starting to piss me off with their insufferable insistence upon mounding the earth up from beneath atop my newly-planted grass seed, but unfortunately I cannot (3). The thing is, I feel something detestable beginning to wriggle its way up through my peripheral brain folds toward the light of conscious thought (2). It's a stubbornly resilient monster, what with its refusal to be replaced by any of those more welcome thought-beasts, absorbing each of them at the very instant they are tossed up by the waning defenses of my subconscious (1). Worst of all, the wretched jerk has a mental taste despairingly identical to that of 8-inning-old Big League chew in the mouth of a middle school outfielder - and not the nice grape kind, but the nasty cherry kind, so that when all the taste is gone, even the memory of the taste flirts in a cloying fashion with my uvula, fumbling amidst my gag reflexes like a man-handled tongue depressor that is simultaneously dusty and moist (0).

29 more days (0)...

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