MCAT

It's done. Hopefully I'll never take it again. Let's be honest, even if I get a bad score, no way am I paying $235 again to take a 5 hour test.

Here's the thing. Last week I was freaking out about it. I think that was apparent. I was having a break down at least once a week. And then this week something just happened. It was like I woke up Monday morning and thought "OMG the MCAT is in four days" and then got up like it was no big deal. It wasn't like all of a sudden I decided that it wasn't going to be hard or that I had studied enough. Someone even told me how much worse their husband did on the real thing than on the practice tests. It was just... magical.

Everyone was wishing me good luck. Seriously. Everyone. Even my boss's boss's boss knew what day I was taking it and tip-toed by me when she saw me studying. It was like everyone banded together around me. People were bringing me chocolate to work that said "Good on your GED" (I think it translates to "Good luck on your MCAT"). People were telling me that they were praying for me, as well as was their unborn child. My favorite coworker even bought me lettuce wraps from PF Chang's for lunch one day as a way of saying "even if you fail the MCAT, the world is still good because there are lettuce wraps!". My fortune said something about having good luck this month. Good sign? I think yes.

And it wasn't like I was under less stress. I had to place a lot of EFY participants at work on a shorter work week. I just got a new calling and had to be trained on how to do it, as well as go on a few visits to the Relief Society sisters. I had to take a friend who was bleeding out of their rectum to the ER and missed more work, in addition to the day off I was taking and the holiday on Monday. And I had class. It was such a busy week but I just didn't care. I studied when I was free and did other stuff, too. I got froyo. I went on a lovely picnic. It was just a great, stress free week. Even with the freak thunder/rain/hail storm.

It was like after four months of praying for success on the MCAT as well as for calmness leading up to it paid off. And it wasn't just me. I know a lot of my family and friends were praying for me, too. And that really helped. As I went to sit at the testing computer I thought "there's no way I'll fail. I know that I'm supposed to be a doctor and so many people are praying for me!".

And now... it's over. I didn't do terrible but I'm sure I didn't do great. I'll get my scores back in a month. And then I'll go from there. But for now, it's time to go to Vegas.

TP

My roommate finally went out and bought some toilet paper for the apartment. I used some of it to blow my nose. It smells like seaweed. Upon some online investigating I found out that Ariel toilet paper is made from recycled products in China. Should I be worried?

Callings Pt. 2

About a month and a half ago I got a new calling. I was called to be the Relief Society greeter. I hated that calling. I would awkwardly stand at the door to the Relief Society room to greet the sisters as they came in. But as one of the two Sunday school classes met in that room the majority of the sisters would already be in there. So the only person I would really talk to was Katherine, the very young wife of the very young second counselor. Thank heavens for her. But I always felt like I wasn't doing a very good job. I would purposefully look for girls sitting alone in Sacrament or Sunday school and I never saw any except for the ones waiting for their boyfriends to finish with the Sacrament. During the longest visiting teaching appointment of my life my companion and the girl I visit teach talked about how our Relief Society is really segregated and clique and no one sits with anyone they don't know. I realized that I needed to be better at my calling. I could improve and help bring the sisters together.

That was on Wednesday. The Sunday before one of the executive secretaries came up to me and asked if I would meet with the bishop in a week. I agreed. I assumed that it was a "check up" or a meeting to tell me to be better at being the Relief Society greeter. It was neither. He gave me a new calling.

I've often thought about what my ideal calling would be. I've always wanted useful callings. I enjoyed being in Primary, both teaching and playing the piano. I enjoyed being a Relief Society teacher but I don't know if I would enjoy that in a family ward. I've often thought that being in Young Women's would kill my feminist soul. But I've always (and I am ashamed of this) wanted to be in some sort of leadership role. Instead of being on the Enrichment committee I wanted to be the Enrichment chair. It was the same way with the activities committee. I've felt like I've had ideas but that no one has wanted to listen to them so it's been pointless going to committee meetings where my ideas aren't wanted. What's the point? There is none. But I've always worried that I want some form of recognition. Isn't that one of the main reasons for auditioning for Humor U? Why I thought that I deserved the student coordinator position? Do I think myself too high above others? Is this why I want to be a doctor? Do I have some sort of superiority complex?

"Jessica, let's start with a prayer. Would you offer it?"
"Sure, but, I don't really know why I'm here. Is there anything specific I should be praying for?"
"Didn't you ask for this meeting?"
"No, I was told you wanted to meet with me."
"Hold on." He left the room for a minute and returned.
"Okay, I know why we're here. Would you mind saying the prayer?"
"Is there anything specific I should pray about?"
"Nope. Just the usual." I said a quick prayer.
"Jessica, you don't have a calling do you?"
"I do. I'm the Relief Society greeter."
"Well, we have a new calling for you. But first, what would be your ideal calling?"
"I think I'd like to be the Primary pianist."
"Well, I can't help you out with that one. But we've got another one."
"It doesn't have to do with the piano, does it? Because I'm really not that good."
"Hence the reason you want to be in the Primary?"
"Yes."
"No, it's not the piano. But I think you should stay open to being a chorister. Have you ever been a chorister?"
"No."
"Well, I think it's something you should keep in the back of your mind. I think you'd do well as a primary chorister and you should be prepared for the day that you're called to serve as a chorister."
"Is that day today?"
"No. Today we'd like to ask you to serve as the secretary in the Relief Society presidency."
"Oh, okay."
"How do you feel about that?"

This is when I lied. I told him that I was nervous. Because I'd never done it. I'm not nervous. I'm not really sure what I am. I'm excited to be a part of a presidency. But I'm new and unsure. And I feel awkward. I feel like Heavenly Father is starting to trust me a little more. Or that he's trying to teach me something HUGE like humility, which I think is something I struggle with. I'm worried that because I feel satisfied with this calling that I am cocky. I have no desire to be the president. But the secretary. This I like. This I can handle. This makes me feel important and part of the Relief Society, which I haven't felt before. But I'm also worried about the timing of this calling. On Friday I take the MCAT and before then I have to visit teach, be visit taught and figure out how to do this calling from the old secretary.

They asked me to introduce myself today. I stood up and said my name was Jessica, that I was from Southern California and I attend BYU, studying physiology. I explained that Relief Society was my favorite hour of church and that while I knew very few people that I was excited to get to know all of them. These things are true. I sat down. I did not bear my testimony. And I'm worried because I realize that this means that at some point I will have to bear it in front of people. Maybe that's the point of this calling. I need to learn to share my testimony with others. Either way, I'm excited. And happy! And I think it's really strange that people are congratulating me on this calling, when no one ever said congratulations to being a greeter. Is a calling really something to congratulate over? Like I've won something that I've been working for? Anyway.

9 Days

Nine days until I sit down in a room and take the most important test of my life. A test that will decide whether or not I am able to continue to learn about things that I love to lead to a career that I find to be magical and rewarding. This is what I have been dreaming of for the last 5 years.

I wake up at 6:30am. I get ready for work. I shower to wash away the smell of sweat that has come from the lack of cooling in my apartment. I walk the half hour to work while I eat a bagel. I work for 4 or 5 hours and take a lunch break, through which I study for the MCAT. I work for another 3 or 4 hours. Some days I walk home and other days I walk to class. I go home where I have two roommates that refuse to do their dishes and another who has a boyfriend that doesn't leave until I go to bed, their bubble keeping me from one room or another. I'm exhausted. And yet if I don't agree to hang out with someone I'm bombarded with questions about why I don't like them, why I'm mean to them, why I don't make time for them. Seriously? You know what I want to do right now? Cry. Except I can't because the roommate with the boyfriend is in the kitchen, a straight shot from my position in the living room, and if I go to my room it's so hot that my tears need to be used for sweat instead. Not to mention if I cry I can't see the words in the many chapters of science I still have to learn in the next nine days. Half a book of physics, half a book of bio. Plus review of acid/base chemistry, electrochemistry and the memorization of organic chem reactions and physics equations/constants. I am losing it.

Seriously? Seriously. I am not a bad person. I am freaking stressed out. Because the last thing I want to be doing with my summer vacation is studying science. And because there is so much for me to remember in the next 9 days. Seriously. I have more fingers than I do days until I take the MCAT. For once, can't my supposed *itchiness be excused? Because the only thing holding me together right now is nothing but the possibility of more stress. Bake for me. Offer to do my dishes. Give me a ride to or from work. But do not get mad at me because I have declined your request to hang out with you, knowing it'll be hours and I'll be asleep by the time I get home, and when I've been accepting your requests all along knowing that I shouldn't. I love you. But give me a break. Because I'm already feeling guilty and like it was a bad idea to take the last ten minutes to write this blog post. It's not yet 10pm. My eyes have long been heavy from wanting to sleep.

Nine. More. Days.

Sidetracked

Last night David and I were hanging out wondering what to do. We literally spent two hours on my couch thinking about it. I suggested that we find some canyon we had never been to before and drive it. This somehow led to David wanting to go eat at some diner in Heber. After looking up reviews David decided to go to the Sidetrack Cafe. I didn't really want to go. I was super tired from the midnight showing of Harry Potter the night before and the waking up at the butt crack of dawn to go to work. But David insisted and brought it up with Chelsey. We ended up going.

We drove the 40 minute drive to Heber and found the Sidetrack Cafe 15 minutes before closing time. The place was deserted except for the beer bottles all along the tables. We entered and were greeted by an old woman, who had definitely seen her hard rock glory days. Jeannine, we would find out, is Italian Catholic. She asked us if we wanted food, and by the look on her face and the time on the clock I knew to say we just wanted beverages.

She took us to the cafe portion and I decided on a peach Italian soda and a cookie. Chelsey decided on a cannoli. After David tasted my drink and Chelsey's cannoli he decided on a strawberry Italian soda and a cannoli. I, too, would eventually get a cannoli. The cannoli's were already made sitting in a display case and somehow it took her ten minutes for each one to put whipped cream on them. When I asked what was in an Italian soda ("if I tell you I'll have to kill you") she said usually just club soda but she likes to put Irish cream in them. She told us all about her grandma and taught us cuss words in Italian, things that translated into "cut the crap" and "get your ugly face away from me". She drank tons of wine while serving us and we wouldn't have been surprised if she started to hiccup. We liked the place.

Finally at 10:30 we left. David had downed his entire soda, I had finished about half of mine, and Chelsey had tried to pawn the last quarter of her cannoli on us. And then David started to get weird. At first he could not stop laughing. Then he started to get confused in the drive in at Wendy's. Then he started to swerve a bit while driving back home and was even driving in the middle of the road at one point. I suggested he pull over and let Chelsey drive. When he finally decided that his stomach hurt too much for him to drive he pulled over just outside the end of the canyon. Instead of getting out of the car like a normal person and getting in the back seat he climbed back there. Then he conked out in thirty seconds flat. When we got back to Helaman I threw out half my soda and David stumbled back to his building.

This morning David apparently woke up feeling terrible. After downing some Advil and a ton of water he went to work. I investigated what Irish cream was. It's not a whipped cream. It's not coffee creamer. It's liquor. Nice, sweet, tipsy Jeannine, who stopped us from eating her Kahlua cheesecake when finding out we were Mormon, neglected to remember that fact two glasses of wine later when she poured the Irish cream into our sodas. David, downing the whole thing and having donated plasma earlier in the day, got the worst of it. Me, having drank half the cup and having my full stock of blood was none worse for the wear.

Last night David and I drank alcohol, presumably. And David got crunk.

I Hate Bugs

How did I make it through work yesterday? Heck if I know. How did I even make it through the walk to work yesterday?

So bug bite on my arm. Noticed it Friday morning at work. By the time I left work my nose was starting to run and my throat was getting sore. Sucked it up. Took some allergy medicine and had some fun. By Sunday the bite had gone down but my body was tired. I went home after Sacrament meeting.

I went to work yesterday and except for answering the phones, things seemed fine. However, by 8pm I wanted to be in bed. My body hurt as did my throat. I could almost no longer talk. Misery. Not pneumonia misery, mind you, just... misery.

I decided to take today off. My throat hurts less today than it has the last few days but I've been coughing up a storm. And my entire body is still tired. My shoulders. My back. There's all this tension. I called in sick when I woke up at 6:25am. I went back to bed. I didn't wake up until 10:30. Considering I went to bed around 10:30pm, this is saying something. Since then I've sat on the couch and made it through two movies while trying to write my physics paper. It's freaking two pages, and I finished one of them last night! How difficult could it be? Very. Not only does my body appear to be tired but so does my brain. After 4 hours and half a page I took a shower. Do you know how much effort it was to brush my hair? I almost gave up.

This, coupled with my dear old menstrual cycle that decided my body could handle two plagues at once, has caused me some emotional torment. So has the MCAT. I need to learn enough for one more point in the next two and a half weeks. Again, no big deal. But while I sit here not being able to string sentences together for a very simple paper I also find myself not being able to make sense of any of the words on the page of my physics review book. These things, coupled with some tearing up during the movie Evening (what did I even watch before that?) caused me to start crying in the shower. I am turning into a freak. What I need is some tissues, sweat pants, chocolate and... well, I don't even know.

But this is my life. And this paper needs to be finished, my teeth brushed and my body dressed (bra included) before 5:30pm tonight when I have to walk up to campus for class and to turn in my paper. Two hours. Doable? On any other day, very.

Another [500] Days Post

So I was watching [500] Days of Summer over the weekend. There was this part where Tom says "People don't realize this, but loneliness is underrated."

First of all, he didn't actually believe that. But moving on.

Marriage is for eternity. Singledom is not.

Today I went to borrow a laptop at work with Claire. The guy lending it to us was trying to get to know us a bit better. He knew that Claire was married but didn't know about me. So he inquired. "Are you single?" he asked. But before I could say yes he had asked "Are you married?" For some weird reason I raised my left hand in the air, flashing my naked ring finger and exclaimed "I'm single!"

Triumphant. I resounded. What the? That is so unlike the Jessica I know and love.

Let's review. There are positive aspects of being single. Here is a compilation:
1. I can hang out with who I want when I want.
2. Guy friends? Who cares! It's not awkward to hang out with my guy friends when I'm single. When you're not... it can be.
3. Girls night can be every night.
4. I don't have to think about my school/work schedule and how often I'll be able to see a certain someone.
5. My money is MY money.
6. I can go anywhere for medical school. I don't have to consult anyone. This gets to be my decision with input from Heavenly Father, and it may or may not be based on where Boyd and Hayley live.
7. No one is there to patronize me for how many pairs of shoes I own.
8. I don't have to pray out loud in front of someone.
9. I can make major decisions without needing to worry about someone else. While this goes along with #6, it also includes what apartment to live in, what my bedding looks like, where to go on vacation and what kind of car to buy.
10. I eat whatever I want for dinner, regardless of another person's food likes/dislikes.
11. I get the covers all to myself at night.
12. I have roommates! So I always have someone to sit with at church. What if I had a husband that had to sit on the stand (ward organist or something)? Lonely.
13. I don't have to share. Especially my laptop.
14. I don't have to compromise on movie watching.
15. More sleep. The end.
16. I get to bond with more people. When you're in a relationship you spend all your time bonding with that one person, which is important. But because I'm single I get to bond with lots of people!
17. No one complains about my PMS.
18. No one gets a say about my body except for me. No one comments on the extra piece of chocolate. Also, no pregnancy. Pregnancy is wonderful, but let's not kid ourselves about what it does to your body.
19. No one gets a say in my decorating ideas.
20. Independence. Isn't that what all of this comes down to? Becoming one is important. I don't deny that at all. Marriage is wonderful. Partnerships are wonderful. But I still have some things to learn about being on my own. I still depend on others a lot, for emotional support, for rides to the grocery store, for input.

So, just a few things I should keep in mind. Especially for those dark days where nothing seems like it will ever work out.

Life

Life is good and bad. It's fantastic and magical. And it's also completely ordinary.

Right now, today, life is normal. I go to work in the morning. I look forward every day to laughing with Claire. She makes work fun. And she laughs at me and I don't even have to do anything except smile. And Kyle is Kyle. His office is right to the left of my little desk space and sometimes he stares at me like I'm dumb and other times he stares at me with a look of unbelief because of some weird story I'm telling. Those looks of unbelief make me feel validated. The dumb ones, not so much.

At lunch I study for the MCAT. It's three weeks away. Yes, I'm freaking out. Hopefully I'll take a practice test tomorrow and everything will be okay. But I still have half a bio book and a physics book to go and review on acids and basis, electrochemistry and tons of ochem reactions to commit to memory. I want to have fun but it's a challenge because at the back of my mind literally ALL THE TIME is that I should be studying for the MCAT. What? Isn't it summer?

Tuesdays and Thursdays I get home at 9pm. I, for whatever reason, decided to take a physics lab for summer term, even with the MCAT on the pile. Dumb? Not so sure yet.

The new roommate has not yet moved in. Erin, the girl that is Shelby's friend, has. And as Shelby's mom and 9 year old sister have been visiting for the week Erin has been sleeping in the spare bed in my room. Guess what? I like her. She doesn't seem like she's 19. She's nice. She's interested in my life. She's talkative but does her own thing. And she helps tutor a middle age woman from Brazil in English so she can get her nursing certification. I like her.

Today I got bit by a bug on my way to work. It has swollen up to be about the diameter of a tennis ball, although it is more of an oval than a circle so not quite as big. It is hard and hot. I must be having some sort of allergic reaction because during the afternoon at work I started getting a sore throat and a runny nose. Add that to the MCAT stress pile.

I love Natalie and Sarah. They are such great roommates. They're no Marie, but as she's in Oxnard right now they'll have to do.

Something I was thinking about today: I spend a long time in the bathroom. On the toilet. Not necessarily because I'm using it, either. I once read this article about married people and how sometimes a spouse will use the bathroom for a half hour, and no, they're not actually going for a whole half hour nor are they constipated, but they need their space/alone time and the bathroom is a place they won't be followed. So very true. I never spend a ton of time on purpose in the bathroom when no one else is around. I find myself loitering in the work bathroom so I can take a break from the office. At home I will literally sit there for longer than five minutes after I have finished anything so I don't have to leave the room and be surrounded by so many people. It has become such a long time especially now that Erin is hanging out in my room and it's not my own personal space anymore. Maybe this is an overshare. But it's true. Sometimes I'll be in there for awhile and Marie will ask what I was doing because it was so long. I used to read my scriptures in there. Sometimes I think I should hide a magazine. But until then, I think and I breathe and I relax.

Dang it.

So... maybe I'm over reacting. Okay, more than likely I am. But anyway, I'm a little upset because I came home today and found out that not only is Shelby's friend moving in to replace Amber, but so is another girl (not a friend of Shelby's)!

What does this mean?

It means that instead of 5 people we have 6. It means less fridge space. It means I have to share a room. It means we run out of toilet paper faster. It means we can't have people stay over because there's no longer an extra bed.

And how did we find out? She knocked on the door and told Natalie and Sarah that she was moving in. Why wouldn't management email us or something to make sure that we cleaned up for her? Or... to make sure that I removed my laundry from her bed?

Dang it. I have only shared a room with two people. Marie and Christina. And... I'm not too excited. But it's not Mara's fault so... hopefully I can be all nice to her or whatever. Whatever.