Things that have happened so far while applying for graduate school that should probably be evidence that I should not be applying to graduate school:
1. I took the GRE. I know I did. I even remember that my score was kinda high-up on the little flow chart that popped up on the screen afterwards. But I have no recollection of (a) what my score was, (b) what the test date was, or (c) what email address I happened to be using when I took it, to be able to find my registration or confirmation # or anything like that. Finally found it (Jared had to point me to the right page, after I whined to him about it), and after a couple of phone calls through the automated system, successfully sent my scores out.
2. I also have no knowledge of my baptism date (apparently something seminaries want to know), which isn’t that abnormal (I was five years old, after all). But then I decided to try to call the Catholic church I was baptized at to ask them to look it up for me. I asked the nice secretary if she could do so, and she asked me what I wanted it for.
Me: I’m applying to seminary!
Secretary: … oh. *pause* You’re entering seminary?
Secretary: … Isn’t seminary just for men?
Me: Oh. Yeah. It’s an Anglican seminary.
Interdenominationally Awkward! Anyway, She takes down all my information – date of birth, names of godparents, mothers maiden name, date of birth, etc. I bet she could totally find out my passwords if she wanted to. Then she asks what church I was baptized at.
Me: This one. Good Samaritan.
Secretary: This church didn’t exist back then. We were five separate churches that came together.
Me: Well, I was five when I was baptized… it would have been 1991?
Secretary: It still would have been one of those churches.
Me: I really thought it was this one… Am I even calling the right church?
Yeah. I wasn’t. Totally remembered the name wrong. (Though the picture of the sanctuary on this church’s website really matches my mental image of the church I was in as a kid… I guess 70’s era Catholic sanctuaries kinda blend together.) Called my mom to ask her what the name of the church was… And she has my baptism certificate on file. She can tell me the dumb date herself.
3. When attempting to mail a transcript request to my alma mater’s office of the registrar, I attempted to affix a postage stamp on ALL THREE WRONG CORNERS of the envelope before getting it right. Thankfully I’m better with my fingernails than with my brain.
Let’s just hope I’m one of those “head smart” people. Because, apparently, wool fumes may cause some kind of dyslexia.