I just passed my national boards. I am, officially, a licensed massage therapist. I can put L.M.T. behind my name!
I’m going to sound incredibly cocky when I say this, but the exam has been the least of my worries. I’m that asshole who can sleep through class, cram for 15 minutes the day before and ace the final–a proper, essay exam. So a 160 multiple choice questions on a computer? Please. That’s almost insulting.
Which only means that I’m really good at taking tests. Always have been. Don’t get nerves, for the most part, and for whatever reason, my brain thrives on the typical exam environment (silent, prolonged concentration). It’s mostly a matter of logic, when it comes to standardized test, and an excellent vocabulary combined with a brazen bullshitting ability, for essays. Doesn’t necessarily mean I know shit. I can just fake it for the required couple of hours.
But I took that test, and I totally did know it all, so I didn’t even have to half-ass it.
Finding the testing center, now that was a challenge. I’m directionally impaired; I almost flunked the spatial ability pop quiz. 10 minutes before the exam started I was driving around in the wrong direction.
So now I’m here in Medium Sized College Town, drinking a latte at the bohemian student coffee shop, enjoying the sense of accomplishment and feeling oddly nostalgic around all the expensively rebellious undergrads.
I’m done with school (for the immediate future anyway). It’s sooooo nice.