She woke before the alarm went off the morning of the GMAT, heart pounding. She tried to go back to sleep, but her brain was on fire. (Tell me, how does one sleep with brains that are on fire.)

She didn’t know.

So she got up. Got ready. Fired up the PC. Continued to study.

945am, she was out the door. Two espresso shots and a couple bacon breakfast sandwiches later, she was somehow in Pasadena, minutes from the test center. The last red light before the parking structure was the longest of all red lights ever turned red in any American intersection in all of American history.

11am, she’s walking towards the building. It is fucking hot. There is no air, just the word ‘stale’ in the back of her mind with each inhale. She is suddenly worried that she is late, because the test is scheduled for 11:10am.

11:05am, she is at the testing center. It is cool there. There is no one waiting to take any test. Everyone is taking tests at their respective times, respective paces, respective brains. Monique wishes she had a respective brain. What is a respective brain? Just another one, one that would give her the score she wanted. One that would do all the work.

11:10 exactly, she is in the testing room. The test proctor is so nice, so elderly, so calming. Monique feels like she is under water. She hears only the tippity tap from other keyboards, she glances at other screens, sees that some people are almost done.

Almost done.

At this point she wants to cry because she wants to be almost done. But she gets a freakin grip.

The time table ends here because who the hell cares what happened from 11:10am to 3:10pm. She doesn’t even know what happened. The only thing that happened was a hard test. The only thing that wasn’t nervous was her body, surprisingly. Throughout the entire test she was serial killer calm. It wasn’t until the last five minutes that her heart REALLY started trying to scratch free. Kicking, screaming, pounding, whatever it is that hearts do when they’re trying to tear their way outta that spindly ribbed cell, that’s what hers did.

Five minutes till it’s over. Five minutes till it’s over. How can she concentrate on anything but five minutes till it’s over.

Then, this.

The thing about this test is, it’s out of 800. Clearly, Monique barely grazed the ‘one step up from idiot’ score, and this was really all she was hoping for.

The test is hard within itself, outside of being timed and taken at a liver colored test center. Taking this exam at home, with all of the luxuries of being at home, has its perks when you’re practicing. The highest score Monique ever got at home was a 550. But on test day, not only did she have to be good enough to get a high score, she had to be doubly good enough to account for the fact that nerves were going to deplete her score by at least 50 points. Take away nerves and that sinister timer clock from the equation, (also if you could let us take the test at home) and you might actually escape the place with a decent score.

She was shaking when she saw her score, but kept her cool until she could safely lose her shit in a Jersey Mike’s public restroom around the corner. All she wanted was to show that she was one step up from ‘yikes, you’re horrible at this’, and she did. All she wanted was above a 500. Maybe she should have had higher expectations. Maybe should could have done a LOT better had she hired a tutor, or sat down with a few people to get a better grasp of the quantitative section.

But at this point she is 100-the-fuck-percent over it. Real life doesn’t come with sinister timers and surface areas and HOW MANY DIFFERENT WAYS CAN YOU ARRANGE 24 MEN AND 16 WOMEN IN AN APARTMENT THAT CAN ONLY HOLD 3 MEN AND 1 WOMAN AT ANY ONE TIME?

Please. Relieve me of my post.

So it’s done. Afterwards she had a huge party. It wasn’t because she finished the GMAT, the party just so happened to land on the date she decided to retake the test. It was obnoxious, strangely organized, and beautiful.

So what now, you ask? Her life can begin.

This week Monique is writing, and writing with plague-yellow fervor. So many times she’s had ideas she’s wanted to put into a scene and they’ve never made it off the Notes section of her iPhone.

This week Monique is organizing a plan for tackling her business school applications. She needs to get her transcripts sent, 3 letters of recommendation, and to write up her personal statements. (How does one reflect humor, creativity, professionalism and I REALLY WANT THIS all in one essay?) She also needs to update her resume. Not all of this is happening this week. The plan for all of this happening is happening this week.

This week Monique is reading the following, and hopefully finishing.

(Remember this?)

She’s finally getting around to this book, because she doesn’t have to spend all her time wasting away behind a computer screen, filling her head with word problems about how long it takes Fred and George to paint a room together when they can each paint it in 7.7 and 6.4 hours, respectively.

This week Monique is catching up on Breaking Bad.

This week Monique is seeing The Dark Knight Rises.

This week Monique hopes to blog until her finger tips split.

This week Monique will record a new Vlog, but it likely won’t get published till next week. (Cut me some slack)

This week Monique will also look into taking an improv class.

This week….prepare yourself because….

Monique’s little bloggy got a makeover. She did a little studying, a little teeth brushing, some face washing, and puckered up her blog lips to give them a little gloss. So she just wanted to tell you.

Whatcha think?

OH! And she’s retaking the GMAT this Saturday, so stay tuned for a depressing recap.