I came across this essay on Bennington’s Cricket Hill Collection. Somehow I found myself and the writer on the same wavelength. I suck at taking tests. I have what I get. I own what I earn. Just like her, I’m only a baby adult and I do feel the unpleasantness sneaking around me every time things aren’t right. However, I then try to chill out with my father’s wise words: “Imagine each of us has only 3 cards of luck. The latter you use them, the luckier you will be.” So I know that in any way, never fall for something called “luck.” Luck is the most fastidious creature on Earth and he lives in the Ephemeral Kingdom. I learn to trust myself even when I reach my nadir of hope. I was given myself by my parents, so I have to do it justice. And feeling unpleasant, indignant, even angry, to what’s happening around is the first step to change…
Sometimes in life, there are situations that are so unfortunate and strange that you can’t believe that they’re actually happening. “This kind of thing only happens on sitcoms,” you tell yourself. Pretty soon things go from “slightly ridiculous” to “full-on panic attack inducing”. Everything that could go wrong goes wrong. And then it hits you. Maybe you really are a character on a sitcom. And although you claim you don’t really believe the myth, if you find yourself taking pauses after jokes to fill in for a possible laugh track, chances are you’re getting paranoid.
For me the unfortunate situation was taking my driver’s test four times. Four times. I’d just like to clarify right now that I’m not a bad driver; I’m just a bad test-taker. Also, it’s kind of hard to be good at anything that occurs early in the morning.
The first time I took the test I was like the naive freshman on her first day of high school: eager, excited, and a little nervous. And just like a freshman, my overconfidence led to my demise. The second time I took the test I was close. I was so close that I could practically smell the lamination of the driver’s license. Only my mediocre right turns held me back. I failed the third test pretty badly. Even though I considered myself an agnostic, I began to question if there really was a god. Only this god was the god of test-taking,and his thought process for my own test-taking accomplishments ran somewhere along the lines of, “Alright, I gave you a 5 on your AP World History exam, so to balance that out I’m going to make you fail your driver’s license test over and over again.”
Whenever something unfortunate happened to me, my mother would always give me the same advice: “You know, all the bad things that happen to you provide you with good writing material later on.” Most of my mother’s advice comes from either the Buddha or Tina Fey. As an aspiring writer, I drank this advice in like a fine wine—as in, one day I would be able to appreciate it, but today I’m just a kid and all I can see is the unpleasantness of what’s right in front of me right now.
from an essay by Emma D.