You can't spell greatness without GRE

Time is a funny thing.

A year ago, all I was thinking about was going to Virginia. Yes, 365 days ago I started a journey across the continent. Only 7 hours ago I made the arduous trek from my house up to my old middle school with my newly inherited dog.

Nothing, and everything, has changed.

I spent all day studying for the GRE test. At least that's what I said I did today when my family members asked me. The honest answer is "today I saw my ego ripped into tiny shreds by nothing more than algebra"

Everyone says "oh its just middle school math", but I am a graduate of the UP School District therefore math is quite hard for me unless it's "integrated". Yes, the "integrated math program" or IMP may sound like a Utopian vision of algebraic racial equality, but let me assure you it is not. I may break out in a cold sweat when I see a square root, but if you need someone to build a model Ferris wheel out of toothpicks and some stale marshmallows, well, I'm your girl. Yes, in my Junior year my math class spent a month doing a "unit" where we had to help two dumbass imaginary kids in the book build a model Ferris Wheel. A life skill to be sure, but not the one that my "dream school" requires of me. They would rather I, you know, actually know something.

Dejected I went to sit in the window with the old border collie my family inherited from my aunt when she passed away two weeks ago. Let me give a proper, blog-worthy introduction:

Her full name is Jennifer Diane. Yes, she has a middle name. Though this may be humorous, it really isn't because I am sure its what my aunt wanted to name her first child, but she never had one. My family has nicknamed her "Pooter" which is what my parents would have named their third child, but they never had one. "Poots", as she is known around our house, enjoys short walks (due to a wonky hip), drooling on the carpet in the front hall, and finding new and innovative ways to get in my mother's way.

And so I joined her on the hospital bed my aunt had occupied only a month ago and looked out the window, envisioning my future as a ditchdigger (albeit, an erudite one). The Pootmaster General laid her head on my lap and looked at me like I was the most wonderful future ditchdigger in the world and I realized "This dog will love me, even if I'm dumb."

Assured of her undying love for me (which is actually dependent on the quantity of milkbones she receives from me) I rewarded her steadfast faith with a short walk around the neighborhood. I realized that I admired the way she stopped to take everything in. She sniffed every bush and every flowerbed. Whoever coined the term "stop and smell the roses" must have been a dog owner. Actually I redact that statement, because then the expression would go "stop and smell other dogs poop, then wee on it to let them know you were there".

I wish I could slow down like she does and just take in the neighborhood. Maybe I'm smarter at math than my school district ever realized. Maybe it's my time to stop and smell the roses. One more year at UBC, a few in grad school, and then onward from there. I'm going to follow Poots example and start sniffing Life's poo and weeing all over it so Life knows that I was here.

Ok, maybe smelling roses is a better expression. And so I close with the immortal wisdom of the movie "Caddyshack"

"The world needs ditchdiggers too"