Honey, Kim Jong Il is at the door, and he brought Timmy some SATs. Hey, was the lawn on fire a second ago?

The other day, I took my first steps in to adulthood. That is, I made my first step into ... an SAT prep center. Yes, it was quite a glorious day; the birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the children were screaming, the teachers were scolding-- wait a second..

It has become increasingly obvious in my boba burrito of a town that SAT prep centers are the most thriving sort of business there can be. They pop up, like frozen yogurt establishments, or pimples on the teenage face, one after another and they are analogous to a fun little country we all know and love as North Korea.

These torture chambers-- I mean... EDUCATIONAL FACILITIES receive boat-loads of "foreign aid" (money from desperate parents of even more desperate honors students) and put on a friendly, we-are-the-reason-your-child-got-a-2400 facade to lure people in. WARNING: ITS A TRAP. I have lived the horror first hand! Okay, so maybe I just went in for a diagnostic test, but do you see how much that, alone, scarred me?

You know, it is appalling to me how much people obsess over the tiniest little grades in my neck of the woods. Every little thing is a cause for panic. And what's sad is, our automatic response mechanism is to STUDY. Frankly, I am sick and tired of spending practically every waking moment of my life studying and having all my other pastimes and hobbies waved off as some sort of childish, irrelevant fancy. Additionally, I find it increasingly irritating that people find it hard to swallow that I was not born with a stethoscope or a graduated cylinder attached to me. The faintest idea is like a huge pill. Well, you know what I say to that? : THEY are just going to have to grab a big glass of water and chug, because I am on my way to making 5000 generous friends who will pool together to buy me my SOLID GOLD FOUNTAIN PEN, with which I shall rule!