So. I took the MCAT. On two hours of sleep. With barely enough snacks to my name. And a fingerprint that my proctor referred to as "troublesome."
I don't like the looks of you
The point is, I don't feel too great about how I did, so I'm sort of in a holding period. I think it's over, but is it? Will I have to retake? It's like we've gone on break. We were doing so well. I thought we were headed in the right direction. I thought he was going to get past my troublesome fingertips and put a ring on it. And then, out of nowhere, he wants some "breathing room"? Which, by the way, is what happens when the diaphragm contracts, the external intercostal muscles tighten, and the pressure in the lung becomes greater than the pressure in the intrapleural space. Air enters. You're welcome.
What I mean is--the past day or two I've been exhibiting classic breakup behavior: I bought a pair of red heels. I scheduled a haircut. I purchased an expensive camera I can't afford. I ate too much potato salad. I watched Bravo all day long.
andy cohen: realer than any housewife
Is this a sign? Is it over? Should I throw away all these books he gave me? I have a whole month to wallow in the not-knowingness of it all. Until then, this blog ain't over. No such luck for you, my friend. It isn't finished until the heart sings and the stethoscope listens.
For example, I've already started my AMCAS. Which reminds me: now that I'm applying to medical school, I feel like my sentences have become riddled with acronyms whose definitions I do not know. AMCAS, for example. There's probably the word "Application" in there somewhere. And maybe "Medical." Other than that, it's anyone's guess. Another More Complicated Activity Seriously? Ask Me Can Anesthesiologists Spell? Yes and no.
aka an anagram machine
It's OK: I already have a feeling I won't be accepted into medical school. And here is the reason: over the past two days I've spent at least 4 hours laboriously inputting stupid information into the application system that is either 1. blindingly obvious (with a name like Celeste I hope I'm a female) or 2. already available in another medium (I mean, really, you want me to report all the classes and grades I received in every class I took as an undergraduate? That's called a transcript, and I just sent you one.) Unbeknownst to me, however, the AAMC had set up a trap. And that trap was in the form of a link to the 2012 application.
should've listened
Let's hang tight for a second. What's the date? May 14, 2012. Right you are. But apparently the 2012 application was for LAST cycle and the 2013 application is for THIS cycle, a discovery I made this afternoon between the time I was told that I couldn't add any medical schools to my cue because I had missed the deadline and the five minutes when I had a conniption that I had actually missed a deadline. So why is the application for 2011 called 2012? Is it like how in China you get an extra year tacked on to your age because you are technically born at conception? Because that resulted in some major Olympic gymnastics medal revocation.
sixteen my ass
What I'm saying is, I wasted 4 hours of my life typing shit into little tiny boxes that I will now have to retype into identical little tiny boxes in another tab. And I'm pretty sure AAMC, who I imagine to be a small shrunken man in a dark room, will say HA. Gotcha!! And will take a big fat pen and make a big fat line through my name for not following instructions.
Whatever, man behind the AAMC curtain. I'm on a OWWCM. That's a One Woman White Coat Mission for the uninitiated. And don't you forget it.
