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The Test

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Oct. 3rd, 2002 | 04:11 am
mood: tiredtired

The exam went fine. Not great, but fine... well enough for me to get a good grade and continue with my life. I chide myself for getting a couple of proteins backwards and forgetting the name of one of them, but at least I remembered they were at a specific division of the developing brain and whatnot.

I had a much easier time remembering newer material about axon growth patterns and things than straight developmental embryology. But that is perhaps because the nervous system actually interests me, while early early development does not.

But all in all, it did go well, and was not to be feared to the degree that I feared it.

I suppose that the irrational fears that I felt were just further aftermath of 9-11 and of what happened to me last semester. As I have been sinking in to this semester's work, I have this tremendous fear of failing... of somehow, somewhere losing my ambition and arriving at the end of the semester with nothing more than a mediocre GPA. The worst part is that I don't know how to quell this fear. I don't know how to stop myself from being afraid that I will fail and that all the things that I have thought I have been working so hard for are worth nothing.

And so I dance. I found another reason tonight that dance makes me happy. I know that I am doing it because it makes me happy. And I know that ultimately, it isn't worth anything, that ultimately the weight of my career won't fall on it and that ultimately, I am doing it for myself, to release bundled energy and emotions that I can't process any other way. It's funny, because dance, which is so utterly irrational, is, at this point making more sense than science because it feels so much here and now. It's taking baby steps to improve something within myself. It has no greater purpose, except perhaps to entertain in the distant future, and it recognizes that. It exists merely for its own moments and its own beauty.

I guess that in the aftermath of 9-11 I have lost some of the dreamer in me. I have lost some of my idealism. And I can't just put it away in the back of my mind and go back to normal because I walk by the monuments, makeshift affairs set up in subway stations and street corners, organized by local businesses, police and fire departments.

A few weeks ago, the subways went back to normal -- there's service on the 1 and 9 to South Ferry and the N/R stops at Cortland Street. New York is recovering and though she will never forget the tragedy, she will continue to thrive and to move forward. I guess that I will have to move forward with her, though I too will always remember the tragedy.

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