Today, ladies and gentlemen, you do not get me screaming from a roof top but me sobbing in the corner of the quiet library while people toss me furtive glances of wishing I would shut up but not wanting to look at the hideousness that is my tear streaked face.
Today my Pre-Optometry club invited a spokes person from Houston Optometry College to come and talk to all of us about the admission process and the requirements and so on an so forth. Let me just tell you, nothing will suck the soul out of a person faster than having to reduce the sum of your life to a few numbers. After those numbers meet their qualifications then they will invite one to the campus to see what the person consists of. But the story that they need to hear, the one where I did maybe a little badly in college the first time but then got my crap together once I realized my life goal, is the thing they won’t get from the numbers. I cannot get my foot in the door without the numbers 3.5 and 330 tattooed on my college career.
If only the phrase, “you are what you eat” could be applied in this situation, I would eat ABC’s & 123’s for the next 3 years. (Only the 3’s of course…)
There is a feeling of hopeless realization that washes over one that wishes to torture themselves with more than 4 years of college, especially following the type of presentation meant to inspire one to go to professional health school. After just such a presentation, if I could freeze time, there is not a moment of that time that I would spend doing anything but studying for the OAT. Everyone else has dreams of grandeur and de-shirting random hotties in public and so forth, but I would curl up, cry, nap and study. I might also steal but only OAT work books and things because some of those books are literally hundreds of dollars and I think that is robbery in the first place. Nothing prepares you for the specific feeling of depression that washes over you as you continue to trudge on this horrible, self-deprecating path. So the next time that you see your doctor/dentist/optometrist, ect. just tell them thank you and that you’re sorry. Sorry for the struggle that school was and sorry that you don’t properly take care of your body/teeth/eyes like you know you should, because you know you don’t.