Important Life Lesson?

Currently Listening To: Everyone's A VIP To Someone by the Go! Team
I generally consider myself to be a carefree guy; not in the sense that I frolic in fields of flowers while singing Julie Andrews songs, more so that often I just don't give a shit.

Generally, that may be the case, but now I really care. And not about the children. I care about me, and my future. No, not career options. I care about potentially not ever having to take a math class again, or potentially having to take Calculus.

Our story begins at Orientation, which I went to a few weeks ago. A lot of kids there were just talking ad nauseum about school and grades and shit. I suppose that's logical; we were at college orientation, and many/most of the kids there had just finished school. I, however, had already been out for a month, and even then I didn't enjoy talking about school. NEWS ALERT: It's boring. But all this talking usually wound up at talk about AP/IB scores and exempting classes. Now, I hadn't thought about that shit in ages, because I had long since come to the realization that AP was a waste of my time since schools are now so stingy about taking credits. But suddenly, without any real change except the prospect of taking Calc, that shit mattered.

Our story continues on July 1st, when I had a dream about AP scores. I woke up and got on the College Board website to see when they were available. Sure enough, July 1st. A reasonable person would say that my subconscious was just remembering date that was all over our AP shit back in May, but I know that it was actually a psychic experience. Because I'm great.

Anyways, they were available starting July 1st by phone, but I needed the packet with my student number on it. Hah! I threw that shit out once I finished my last test. But so now I have to wait until they mail it to me. Every day I eagerly sift through the mail looking for that envelope with the dopey acorn on it. That is the dumbest logo ever (pardon the hyperbole).

The anticipation is killing me. The first two years I really didn't care
but now, not only is there something hinging on the scores, but there's also reason to believe that I didn't do alright, and it's not the typical "I don't know what the fuck a Huegenot is!", it's "Why the fuck did I write that smartass answer?" and that applies to all four of my exams, not just one. Let's review:

1. Statistics: The experiment the man should try out is "Go get a girlfriend"
   
2. English: A lengthy essay on how Nermal serves as a foil to the protagonist in Jim Davis' classic saga "Garfield"
   
3. Environmental: Something about a kerosene lake in Portugal
   
4. Spanish: My last essay was just a picture of a bus labelled "Spanish" running me over with various Spanish literary figures on board

Spanish only warranted a picture (which all the others got in addition to the text) because it was less than 24 hours before graduation. I'd say that were it the English one that mattered most, it would be worth suffering through a class for it, because I was really proud of the Nermal/Garfield thing. Not only was it smartassery of the first degree, it answered the question. But it's math, and that one was almost as lame as the kerosene lake. Funny, yes, but unremarkable.

Anyways, I done fucked myself over and will continue stressing until that letter comes. And yes, there's no sense worrying because it's pretty much set in stone now, but when have I ever learned any sort of life lesson?

Dreams (Again)

Currently Listening To: Waiting For The Sirens' Call by New Order

So I had a really weird dream last night. Short story shorter, I was enlarged by an enlarging ray, to the point that I was about seven feet tall. I got to do all kinds of stuff I usually can't because now, I looked like an adult. I drove (poorly... Very, very poorly) on my own, did some other stuff... The only problem was that I wasn't supposed to have been enlarged (don't know why), so I had to hide from people so as to not be caught. Not that I spent the entire time behind a bush; on the contrary, I interacted with a lot of people. I was just partially hidden behind things the whole time. And I was naked, but for some reason no one was bothered by that. Huge double standard. And then at one point I was trying to catch a hypnotoad but couldn't, so some kid came to help me. He whipped at it using his belt and the toad got stuck to it. Then we showed it to everyone, and they were pleased. Again, I don't know why people cared about the hypnotoad. They just did.

I suppose it's worth explaining that one, I saw an episode of Robot Chicken with a segment called "The Giant Midget" last night, and two, I'd had a conversation with my family about how I'm a baby-face (why all the college folk thought my brother was the one looking at the school). And I watched an episode of Futurama with Hypnotoad last night.