Same Old Song

Break out the pinata, Matt Smith.

Two of my three grad school applications are complete. Complete. Meaning submitted online, with essay and resume. Complete. Transcripts and letters of recommendation. In. The. Mail. D-U-N. Done.
So, there really aren't enough words to illustrate my relief. Mainly because "relief" really does seem to get the job done on its own. And again, it's only two of the three. NYU still hasn't heard word one from me.

So all I'm saying is, there's still time for me to go with the tiki torch and interpretive dance option for my next essay.

Most normal people would just revamp the essay they've used for other schools and send it to the last school. But noooo. Not me. I have to write a completely new essay. I have to tailor this one just for the lovelies at New York University's Graduate School of Education. And I hope they're satisfied. After all, the only reason I'm doing this is that the essay's supposed to be 2- to 3-pages long, DOUBLE SPACED.

Double spaced?

I'm sorry. I never really got the double-spaced phenomenon. I suppose they want to make notes, and corrections, and write all over it in green ink. But puh-lease. It's a waste of paper.

Oh. Okay. So I'm a whiner. If writing this next essay is the worst of my troubles today, I should be counting my Bing Crosby blessings. The thing of it is, I can't get myself back on track to write the damn thing.

Ah well. Let's take a rain check on the pinata. The weather's really bad for it anyway.

Bop-shabop-shabop-doowop-a-doobie-doo,
Meredith

Stupid is as Stupid Takes the GRE

Matt Smith,

I, like a lot of people, have been doing a bit of thinking as of late. The details of this thinking are sketchy at best, and they in no way lead to a coherent grad school essay, but they do lead me to do, like, nothing. For example, right now? I'm sitting on my couch, drinking tea and watching "City Slickers." I had planned to study for my GREs and clean my bedroom. My thinking has led me here. You just can't depend on anything anymore.

On the subject of GREs: No one should be subjected to such terror. Quite honestly, I believe they were created simply to make every grad school applicant feel inadequate to the task of life. No. That can't be right. The GREs don't test you on life. They test you on things very far removed from real life. For example, I can identify the right time to change the oil in my Subaru, but I have trouble distinguishing the relationship between the words "mollify" and "engender." I've lived in six different apartments in 5 years, and I've lived through the moving process just as many times, but I cannot live through practice tests with illuminated pictures of Einstein and sparkling brains. That, my friends, makes me feel stupid. I am not stupid. I'm not.

I can't write a grad school essay. I can't draft my statement of purpose. I can't seem to get out of bed in the morning at a decent hour. I can't bring myself to change out of these pajamas, and I can't decide what I want for lunch.

But there you have it. My test is tomorrow morning at 8:30.

Get ready. Get set. Get stupid.
-- Meredith

P.S. The best place to keep those receipts is attached to the sun visor above your driver's seat. Use a really, really big paper clip.