I failed the GRE. And by "fail" I mean I did not do as well as I would have liked. More specifically, I did well on the Math section and horribly on the Verbal section, meaning I have to take it again should I have any hope of getting into graduate school. I left the testing facility and literally cried for three hours. On L Street downtown, sitting at Potbelly's, in Nicole's office bathroom, on the phone with my Mom, on the phone with Jared (who was telling me that he had tickets to Game 2 of the World Series), and then into Nicole's shoulder before I began drowning my sorrows in margaritas.
It was a low point. I had let myself down entirely, everything was crumbling down around me, and there was little hope of my plan of graduate school getting off the ground. That's how I felt anyway. Then I had a few dinners with my mother and an accompanying revelation. My reaction to my GRE score was completely irrational. It was actually less rational than when I stood on a chair during the ninth inning of Game 4 of the 2004 World Series- still petrified the Sox would blow that 3-0 lead. (Go ahead and mutter your I-hate-Boston-fans comment to yourself now). I had been relying solely on the score of a completely ridiculous standardized test to make me feel ok about my life. And when I thought about how I had gotten to a point where I needed something so trivial to make me feel good again, I realized I had been allowing myself to be absorbed by negativity.
I have been focusing on the parts of my job that I don't like, rather than enjoying my co-workers and the experience. I have been hating on DC for months, planning an escape rather than taking advantage of the city while I am here. So I'm turning it around- I'm ready to enjoy myself...
Eleni, a woman that works as our study leader in Greece, just gave a presentation at our staff meeting during which she said, "The years between college and 30 should be an odyssey. Do with those years what you want. Do everything". That's what I'm going with.
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