In my attempt to (try) make my world a little less small and not confined to the four corners of my bed, I shall tell the internet what happened today.
(How does that help exactly? Beats me. Or it’s very comforting to talk about yourself at the end of the day.)
OKAY. So, I took an entrance exam for grad school with my friend Beanturtle. Okay hence titled:
THE MISADVENTURES OF CACKLECAT AND BEANTURTLE FORTHWITH UNDERGONE ON EXAM DAY
Taking exams/doing anything to do with processes in this Univ for that matter, will always always always always involve some form of misadventure. Or maybe just for noobs. Like we were that morning.
“When in doubt,” says I, “Ask the security guard.”
And so we ask, end up walking around two buildings, up four flights of stairs, down three corridors and sweat like pigs (although this is totally wrong about pigs; apparently they don’t actually sweat, hence the cooling mud baths) before we realize we were in the wrong building/decide we were terribly misinformed/decide my motto about guards was complete BS/judge the guards for incompetence/wonder if we were just wasted and nervous and deaf therefore mishearing directions.
Turns out we were totally right on the last part. Re-hash Noob Motto: “When in doubt, ask the security guard…and repeat
if desired because it’s absolutely necessary.”
We get to the venue late, receive test paper, gawk at the first item for thirty minutes in complete disbelief of what you have gotten yourself into (adapt what turned out to be a Shakespearean monologue from Love’s Labours Lost, which of course sounds easy as pie. DUDE HAVE YOU EVER TRIED BAKING PIE?! Whoever came up with that shizzwacker probably came up with “Sweat like a Pig” ok i sidetracked far enough), tap pen against choice of head/table/knee to awaken creative juices of undergrad college days for the next thirty minutes before reducing self to inwardly weeping while proceeding through the test as done back in undergrad days: BLUFF YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DAMN THING.
And then: decide that the longer you bluff your way through a critical essay, the more it will come off as nonsensical babble. Stop an hour and a half after exam starts. Observe people taking the exam. Feel inferior because these people are working hard. Look over to Beanturtle from time to time. He is also working hard, tapping then heatedly scribbling away. Look away in shame. Pretend to write when actually drawing peanuts on the desk (Bluffing through an entrance exam and then vandalize?! I am a model citizen, aren’t I?”
An hour on: Giggle inwardly at how people nearby seem to be taking things a little too seriously. To the left, guy performs circular fanning gesture around ear as if to fan words in from the air. Front, beefy hairy guy pencils in fragments of an essay before inking it. His eraser is moldable, squishy, that thing artists use to reach tight corners. he uses it as a pen stand. This kind of process takes him forever to finish. Feel like whatever it is at the very bottom of the food chain because it’s better to exert effort in taking things seriously rather than finishing without even trying, realizing this blog was more descriptive than the story composition part of the exam, wishing the it had the same treatment (as opposed to a quick scribble of a scene in half a freaking page), remaining in the exam room for the electric fans because it was hot outside.
Two hours on: Pangs of hunger. Admire trees. Desperately wish for passing but by the looks of your exam, buddy, that doesn’t seem to be very likely.
Minutes after Noon: after a considerable amount of people have left, decide to leave because butt seems to have molded flat.
Waiting for Beanturtle: Walk around excessively to get blood and plumpness back to buttocks. Empty bladder in restroom. Second floor filled with a handful of students. Explore and discover: A grilled doorway that leads to a steep drop, a maintenance room with a hole in the floor (IT’S THE FREAKING ABYSS, MAN!), attempt to enter all empty restrooms, fit head through a gap in grilled windows and succeed, revel at the smallness of my head, feel like the outer wall of the building taking in the scene and wish I did better on that exam because I kind of really want to be here for the next three years, consider turning into an outer wall instead, realize that birds will shit all over you, pop head back inside, play skip hop in a deserted corridor.
After the exam, walking out the building, crossing the street, tamabay-ing by the tindahan: Snappy, satisfying tirade of swearing,
“Putangina nung number 1, sabaw ng sagot ko amputa!”
“Oo nga shitshitfuckthemoon takte!”
“Why was that the first fucking item–?!”
“Tangina unang mababasa sa entrance fucking exam mo sabog na sabog amputa–”
“Sheeeeeeeeeeet, baka i-etsapwera na yun buong exam after mabasa kasabawan ng number 1…!”
“Yung sagot ko sa number one reads like it was written while completely baked, man. Puta–”
“Bawi sa iba–”
“I put grandfathers somewhere in there–”
“SAN GALING YUN?!”
“EXACTLY! SABAW NA SABAW NA TANGINA!”
“YUNG AKIN NIRE-PHRASE KO LANG!”
Whoever said what doesn’t really matter. Gist of this conversation: We were both really upset. We had met up earlier that morning to review. Beanturtle memorized a shitload of stuff from college readers, books and handouts and none of them came up in the freaking exam. Our fingers are crossed. asdfghjkl.
Beanturtle leaves for a lunchdate with a friend: Both decide to call the admissions in October to see if we made it. GAHHH.
Waiting for Redpanda: Sip sip water. And watch spazzy sleeping kitty. Get a load of this cutie:
I don’t suck at translations on purpose. Sit beside that deliciously sleeping kitten for a good hour or so and you’ll see what I mean. And you’ll begin hating yourself for not being asleep/feel a seething unexplainable envy. Out of affection, I cuddle said kitty. Touch its widdle pink nosie. tickle ear hairs, watch them twitch, press paw pads to make claws come out. Kitty sleeps on. Kitty runs in its sleep, scratches butt in its sleep, spazzes like a napping pre-teen in its sleep, stretches contentedly in its sleep. Geez, this kitten could sleep right through the apocalypse.
At some point of course, it wakes up, gives me a bleary eyed ‘don’t-really-recognize-you-or-even-care-because-sleep-is-more-important’ before switching positions and
Redpanda arrives at this point on, and the foodtrippen begins immediately in the next post because this one has gone on toooooo freakinnnn looooong.