Busy Day and Deadlines
Oct. 18th, 2004 08:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaToday was busy, like the rest of my days. I keep having to remind myself that it's all to be over by November 6th, all of it . . . and then it will all be back to normal. Yet I now have four (and possibly more) damn essays to write, and a bunch of things to hand in which I have to do soon lest I stress out the teachers and the counselors getting them in on time. I hate this deadline. As soon as everything is over, everything is over . . . and I have nothing. It's just up until then that I have everything, and I have it, everything, all at once.
Orchestra felt like 10th grade again, at the peak of everything, before I ever read The Great Gatsby. I must say being a promiscuous bird of prey (lol) is an odd occupation. I've avoided it for so long, but it still is so easy to see . . . and it's still there. It's so weird and obvious.
Why would people want to go against their natural inclination? It's good, deep down. It is. Listen to it.
Of course the 18th. 365 (because of the leap year) since the LAST time things got screwed over. Today (and tomorrow) is an unlucky day.
This is the song that sounds like a stalker, but the remake version ("Every Breath I Take" . . . lol) is sad and about death. It's so odd. I think I may actually like it better (unlike the rap "Sweet Home Alabama" . . . oh my gosh, gag me with a spoon). Yet this one is the only one I've got to listen to.
Politics crops up so much, even in play rehearsal. It's pretty darn funny.
I didn't end up reading any of the Inferno. I also have a library book to turn in. I should do that, tomorrow, before it's due. I've had to pay entirely too many dimes lately.
I don't know what we're doing for that poetry thing.
I have an article review due on Friday. Great. At least I think I have Thursday entirely off because I think I have to go to Debate tomorrow night to do a practice debate. I don't like staying after school until 8:00. I really don't . . . especially since there's a half-hour in there where I do nothing. Couldn't it just go until 7:30, and start at 5:30?
I wish I had more time to write. I'm going to screw over my novel . . . all I do is THINK about it all the time, when I should be thinking about college essays . . . and then when it comes down to writing college essays, all I want to do is write my story.
Orchestra felt like 10th grade again, at the peak of everything, before I ever read The Great Gatsby. I must say being a promiscuous bird of prey (lol) is an odd occupation. I've avoided it for so long, but it still is so easy to see . . . and it's still there. It's so weird and obvious.
Why would people want to go against their natural inclination? It's good, deep down. It is. Listen to it.
Of course the 18th. 365 (because of the leap year) since the LAST time things got screwed over. Today (and tomorrow) is an unlucky day.
This is the song that sounds like a stalker, but the remake version ("Every Breath I Take" . . . lol) is sad and about death. It's so odd. I think I may actually like it better (unlike the rap "Sweet Home Alabama" . . . oh my gosh, gag me with a spoon). Yet this one is the only one I've got to listen to.
Politics crops up so much, even in play rehearsal. It's pretty darn funny.
I didn't end up reading any of the Inferno. I also have a library book to turn in. I should do that, tomorrow, before it's due. I've had to pay entirely too many dimes lately.
I don't know what we're doing for that poetry thing.
I have an article review due on Friday. Great. At least I think I have Thursday entirely off because I think I have to go to Debate tomorrow night to do a practice debate. I don't like staying after school until 8:00. I really don't . . . especially since there's a half-hour in there where I do nothing. Couldn't it just go until 7:30, and start at 5:30?
I wish I had more time to write. I'm going to screw over my novel . . . all I do is THINK about it all the time, when I should be thinking about college essays . . . and then when it comes down to writing college essays, all I want to do is write my story.
