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The statistics final and its aftermath (part 1 of 2)

2004-12-20 - 2:00 p.m.

Since I secretly enjoy trying to understand what slots I can fit myself into, I took the Big-Five Personality Test. I could swear I'm more high-strung/neurotic, but hell if I know.

* * *

The night before and day of the Final

I'd scrapped together 5-6 hours of sleep from 2 bottles of Harp and a pint of Black Sheep ale. Oh that Black Sheep was divine. I'd decided to talk to people online to help me wind down some, then get to bed at my usual time and try to relax.

Well I tried, but after 40 minutes I had the first Harp. Think I slept for an hour from 1 to 2...and thereafter got slightly more drunk, which sealed the deal. I woke up at 7:12. I felt ok at this point, but weird. I knew that my cognitive skills would be a little blunt, so I tried to get more sleep. I spent three hours in bed in the daze of the close-eyed, seeing the light fading out through my eye covers. Finally, at 10am, I resigned myself to a hot shower and the feeling that I was going to get an A.

In my bones I felt that heavy, light calm of certainty, when every voice within you rings out in a whispering chorus. Every time I thought about it, I would hear, the whisper percolating through the labrinythian tunnels and day-cast oceans of me. It was soft. United.

I knew I was ready, but I had to stay focussed.

I had my lunch over at Uno's, daring to make it interesting by having some clam chowder with my usual thin crust barbeque pizza. I was full and mostly satisfied. I told myself that having Coldstone just wasn't fly. I tell myself I want dessert during the meal, but toward the end it always seems too much.

That left a little under 2 hours and change until the final. I wandered the streets some, in the unfocussed niches where I spun my universes, eyes spinning toward so many things I hadn't seen properly. There was a span of an hour or two where I went back to my apartment. I listened to James Galleway, wondering how I couldn't have appreciated how beautiful the CD was before. The time was a shambling army of lepers, a thousand points of life slowly dying as the world sparkled in quiet jubilee.

And at one point, I decided it was time. I travelled to the psych building, got into the room, and smiled as I saw Xtian , Meagan, and a few others I knew there. And all came, with the spirit very heavy but still light-hearted.

Without much fanfare, it began. For the first 40 minutes, I was amazed that things were going so fast. The knowledge came readily, my thoughts relatively clear. It was all automatic, what seemed like a good test to apply here and there. There was some rocky ground for a few questions, and I passed those over as I kept going..and after the multiple choice, it was the end of the test.

Ah, but it wasn't the end of the test.

I went back to those few questions that made no sense at the time..and tried to divine them. The first fell away pretty quickly, a simple contrast to analyze whether depression scores increased during winter months, but decreased during the spring. I'd done it incorrectly before, but I saw my error and corrected it. I realized some other things that weren't quite right in a few other questions and sanded them to perfection.

But one question..one lone wolf had fled the settlers, hiding in the woods of my mind, starring out to the world of man that I brought to its world. It taunted me. I asked the TA a few times for some clarity, but received none to my satisfaction. I was scared. 30 minutes remained. Then 20. Then 15. Finally I went with what I'd instinctually decided at first and performed the analysis.

I then checked through everything very quickly, so quickly. I felt like I'd lost valuable time..but everything seemed right. I corrected a few things here and there, but I felt confident again.

And suddenly the test was over. I was handing it in...and it felt right. Since we'd all planned to get shitfaced after the exam, many of us were out in the psych grand lobby. People were talking about how hard the test was. Tat was crying and red-eyed because she wasn't sure she'd gotten a single question right. Caroline tried to comfort her, saying that she didn't think she got anything or anywhere either. I smiled, sympathized, and we all passionately got into the 'so I did this for this question, and GOD it was a bitch but then I realized how to do it and AGH, it was good' conversation. Well, I was the only one with that much enthusiasm--but like Xtian had told me right before the exam, when I was worrying:

"Dude, you studied really hard for this exam". And the only thing I could say was that I had, with conviction.

So all of us wandered off into the night, laughing and joking and putting the past behind us for alot of drinking. We first tried the university tavern, a dive shithole if I've ever seen one. Young and old broken men sat in the neon black, beer and spirits warming them. The conversations we grads had aren't important--mostly the fleeting yells and smiles of any bar-room caper.

I got my drinks paid for me after relating the WaMu snafu with my debit card. Kudos to older red-haired business dude on that count, even if it was 2 for 1 happy hour. After getting entirely too tipsy on the rest of Xtian's peppermint schnapps and some of my energy drinks. It tasted like a candy cane. Some people agreed. Some people said it was like cough syrup. I drank it all the same...

(Continued in part 2)

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