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tabular_rasaI am sort of not stressed-out anymore, but not really.
I feel much compassion for Robert, perhaps feeling even more pain than I felt for myself . . . because he really wants to get into Princeton, and I KNOW I'm not getting into Yale, and though the Harrison Scholarship's $12,000-$15,000 or something, if I don't get it, I'll still be at a college I like, eventually, hopefully . . .
. . . though with my essays, I doubt it. Why, oh WHY didn't I let someone read them before I submitted them?
Oh, scratch that. My dad just broke my unwritten rule about not reading my stuff and read my two Harrison Scholarship essays (luckily not the one that sucked TOTAL ass), and then he proceeded to CRITIQUE them. Okay, now the reason for why I HAVE this rule is because everything I have ever written that they have read first has turned out to be crap. I don't let them READ my things. All they do is shoot them down. Now, when I have submitted them, and another authority has said that they are good, THEN they can see them. When the paper comes back with an "A" on it, they can't very well call it shit. When the essay wins a contest, they can't tell me to go back and fix that paragraph that they find awkward or something. I only allow them to read consummate successes. Now they've read two of them are they are officially damned, or something. You see, if they tell me it's bad, I start over and turn it into shit, or it kills the paper before it has even had the chance to get up off the ground; if they tell me it's good, I grow complacent and high-strung and cocky and overconfident and then it fails to spite me, which is always a rule for me, too. So, anyway, they jsut screwed me over for the Harrison Scholarship.
I tutored today . . . for 15 minutes, about. The girl was very quiet, and then she came back in with her friends and Allison and Stephanie took over. I just did homework the whole time, about. I stared at the Economics book for two hours of which nothing came. I do not understand any of it-- or at least do not RETAIN any of it. I am not ready to take this test on Wednesday, Monopoly Day or no. I understood the concepts back in Academic Economics, but not now, in the stupid AP version with all its big, fancy words and its full-of-himself textbook writer . . . anyway. I also read some of Dante's Inferno, which was actually successful, and did some World History-- which, as long as I write down answers for, earns me an "A." That class is so easy, I swear; he has to dumb it down so much for the other kids. It's very sad and pathetic.
Dammit, WHY did Dad have to tell me to rewrite that essay? It "wasn't me," apparently, or it had "words that befuddled up the meaning," or something, or "got in the way." Damn it damn it damn (and I'm sorry, Alice, for your parental controls . . . and anyone else who hates excessive swearing, but I'm PISSED, okay?).
I kind of wanted to read Robert's essay . . . one, to see if his sounded anything like mine because I don't know what they're supposed to sound like; two, I was bored stiff and wanted to do something that wasn't my own homework, and; three, I like Robert's writing and I'm a nosy person anyways, lol . . . but it's no big deal, especially if he said it was personal.
My stuff was personal, but in the sense of excrement. You know, you don't show off the stuff you leave in the toilet.
Rehearsal today, for the play, sucked-- and, yes, I realize I am being negative about everything today. Yet I'm really not classifying today as a bad day. It was just . . . negative, not really bad. I forgot a bunch of lines I've known forever and I just wasn't into it, and apparently no one else was, either, and we didn't get through it all and Mr. Ong had to sit and yell at us forever. Oh well, he has to do that for every play at least once, I guess. At least this time Andrew didn't end up having to run laps around the auditorium or something.
Well, on the positive side, Lauren was very nice to me tonight. She gave me a bag of sour cream and onion chips she didn't want to eat, apparently, and we conversed quite civilly. It may almost have been forced civility-- though not in the spiteful-bitch-we're-doing-this-for-the-apppearance way, more the we-realize-we-need-to-be-nicer way. It was nice. I wonder if it's a result of anything. She probably knows what I've said; just because I'm oblivious to anything and everything doesn't mean everyone else is. Well, I thought it was nice, and, from past experience, complete and open forgiveness works, so here I go. After all, I never had anything against her in the first place.
I really hope we either pick our partners for our created Hell in English class or work alone. I swear, this is the first time I have ever said this. Normally I like working with unusual people I never get to talk to . . . yet Hell is such a personal subject, I know there would be hard cases to work with. People's views would be so different, or people wouldn't take it seriously, and I plan to. I know if I worked with Liz, we could make a really thought-out Hell that would be fun for both of us to create, because we both sort of operate on the same religious level. I could also probably work with Kristina, considering some of her theories at lunch-- but I don't even know about Nichole, because sometimes she and I have such a different philosophy about good and evil and the required punishments; we might either reach a definite agreement or be definitely split, but, seeing as how we both have a history of playing the Devil's Advocate to each other (lol, you know we do automatically, Nik), it probably would be the latter. It'd be interesting to work with like Vidhi, who might have some interesting takes on divine punishment, yet I'd really be scared of getting matched with someone like Kylie, who's so devout and-- I know I may be leaping to conclusions-- probably sees Hell more objectively and perhaps very similarly to Dante's version (she sort of scared me that day when I was mocking that random girl's abortion rant-- not even mocking her cause, just mocking her-- and she snapped and said never to talk to her about abortion because she was so totally against it . . . and I'm not even completely one way or the other; I'm one of those wishy-washy people who doesn't like it and values the rights of the child but as a political issue values the freedom and resigns, pragmatically-- and with a bit of disappointment-- to the fact that it will be done anyway, even if illegally, and might as well be made legal to at least save ONE life-- but please don't quote me on that because it's not really an issue I can stand up and be passionate about one way or the other. I can see both sides, and neither appears fully right to me at present-- as a political issue, anyway. Personally, if I were raped, I'd probably have the kid and sign it up for adoption because can you imagine sensitive me attempting to kill something? Wow, this was the longest parenthesis ever . . . ). It's just that religion is such a personal subject, and in some cases people might get sensitive about it. I realize it is a school project, and I could just be like, "screw it," and come up with silly little categories for everything with just some random person, but I want to think it out! I want to work hard on it! I want to come to some grand, divine conclusion! Anyway . . . that's just a (very long) random thought.
I don't like being so busy. So I may be done with the college crap (for the moment), but not everything else. I have tests to take, colleges to visit, lines to memorize (apparently), World History to read, Economics to understand, Hell to create, and a novel to write.
I feel much compassion for Robert, perhaps feeling even more pain than I felt for myself . . . because he really wants to get into Princeton, and I KNOW I'm not getting into Yale, and though the Harrison Scholarship's $12,000-$15,000 or something, if I don't get it, I'll still be at a college I like, eventually, hopefully . . .
. . . though with my essays, I doubt it. Why, oh WHY didn't I let someone read them before I submitted them?
Oh, scratch that. My dad just broke my unwritten rule about not reading my stuff and read my two Harrison Scholarship essays (luckily not the one that sucked TOTAL ass), and then he proceeded to CRITIQUE them. Okay, now the reason for why I HAVE this rule is because everything I have ever written that they have read first has turned out to be crap. I don't let them READ my things. All they do is shoot them down. Now, when I have submitted them, and another authority has said that they are good, THEN they can see them. When the paper comes back with an "A" on it, they can't very well call it shit. When the essay wins a contest, they can't tell me to go back and fix that paragraph that they find awkward or something. I only allow them to read consummate successes. Now they've read two of them are they are officially damned, or something. You see, if they tell me it's bad, I start over and turn it into shit, or it kills the paper before it has even had the chance to get up off the ground; if they tell me it's good, I grow complacent and high-strung and cocky and overconfident and then it fails to spite me, which is always a rule for me, too. So, anyway, they jsut screwed me over for the Harrison Scholarship.
I tutored today . . . for 15 minutes, about. The girl was very quiet, and then she came back in with her friends and Allison and Stephanie took over. I just did homework the whole time, about. I stared at the Economics book for two hours of which nothing came. I do not understand any of it-- or at least do not RETAIN any of it. I am not ready to take this test on Wednesday, Monopoly Day or no. I understood the concepts back in Academic Economics, but not now, in the stupid AP version with all its big, fancy words and its full-of-himself textbook writer . . . anyway. I also read some of Dante's Inferno, which was actually successful, and did some World History-- which, as long as I write down answers for, earns me an "A." That class is so easy, I swear; he has to dumb it down so much for the other kids. It's very sad and pathetic.
Dammit, WHY did Dad have to tell me to rewrite that essay? It "wasn't me," apparently, or it had "words that befuddled up the meaning," or something, or "got in the way." Damn it damn it damn (and I'm sorry, Alice, for your parental controls . . . and anyone else who hates excessive swearing, but I'm PISSED, okay?).
I kind of wanted to read Robert's essay . . . one, to see if his sounded anything like mine because I don't know what they're supposed to sound like; two, I was bored stiff and wanted to do something that wasn't my own homework, and; three, I like Robert's writing and I'm a nosy person anyways, lol . . . but it's no big deal, especially if he said it was personal.
My stuff was personal, but in the sense of excrement. You know, you don't show off the stuff you leave in the toilet.
Rehearsal today, for the play, sucked-- and, yes, I realize I am being negative about everything today. Yet I'm really not classifying today as a bad day. It was just . . . negative, not really bad. I forgot a bunch of lines I've known forever and I just wasn't into it, and apparently no one else was, either, and we didn't get through it all and Mr. Ong had to sit and yell at us forever. Oh well, he has to do that for every play at least once, I guess. At least this time Andrew didn't end up having to run laps around the auditorium or something.
Well, on the positive side, Lauren was very nice to me tonight. She gave me a bag of sour cream and onion chips she didn't want to eat, apparently, and we conversed quite civilly. It may almost have been forced civility-- though not in the spiteful-bitch-we're-doing-this-for-the-apppearance way, more the we-realize-we-need-to-be-nicer way. It was nice. I wonder if it's a result of anything. She probably knows what I've said; just because I'm oblivious to anything and everything doesn't mean everyone else is. Well, I thought it was nice, and, from past experience, complete and open forgiveness works, so here I go. After all, I never had anything against her in the first place.
I really hope we either pick our partners for our created Hell in English class or work alone. I swear, this is the first time I have ever said this. Normally I like working with unusual people I never get to talk to . . . yet Hell is such a personal subject, I know there would be hard cases to work with. People's views would be so different, or people wouldn't take it seriously, and I plan to. I know if I worked with Liz, we could make a really thought-out Hell that would be fun for both of us to create, because we both sort of operate on the same religious level. I could also probably work with Kristina, considering some of her theories at lunch-- but I don't even know about Nichole, because sometimes she and I have such a different philosophy about good and evil and the required punishments; we might either reach a definite agreement or be definitely split, but, seeing as how we both have a history of playing the Devil's Advocate to each other (lol, you know we do automatically, Nik), it probably would be the latter. It'd be interesting to work with like Vidhi, who might have some interesting takes on divine punishment, yet I'd really be scared of getting matched with someone like Kylie, who's so devout and-- I know I may be leaping to conclusions-- probably sees Hell more objectively and perhaps very similarly to Dante's version (she sort of scared me that day when I was mocking that random girl's abortion rant-- not even mocking her cause, just mocking her-- and she snapped and said never to talk to her about abortion because she was so totally against it . . . and I'm not even completely one way or the other; I'm one of those wishy-washy people who doesn't like it and values the rights of the child but as a political issue values the freedom and resigns, pragmatically-- and with a bit of disappointment-- to the fact that it will be done anyway, even if illegally, and might as well be made legal to at least save ONE life-- but please don't quote me on that because it's not really an issue I can stand up and be passionate about one way or the other. I can see both sides, and neither appears fully right to me at present-- as a political issue, anyway. Personally, if I were raped, I'd probably have the kid and sign it up for adoption because can you imagine sensitive me attempting to kill something? Wow, this was the longest parenthesis ever . . . ). It's just that religion is such a personal subject, and in some cases people might get sensitive about it. I realize it is a school project, and I could just be like, "screw it," and come up with silly little categories for everything with just some random person, but I want to think it out! I want to work hard on it! I want to come to some grand, divine conclusion! Anyway . . . that's just a (very long) random thought.
I don't like being so busy. So I may be done with the college crap (for the moment), but not everything else. I have tests to take, colleges to visit, lines to memorize (apparently), World History to read, Economics to understand, Hell to create, and a novel to write.
