I typed an entry last night, but then I pushed the back button and it got lost. An hour's worth of an entry, gone in moments.
So, I feel so much better that all of those essays are complete! 4 essays on Macbeth! Not that it's not a good play, but four essays with one weekend to really do it in (the weekend of a big dance) 2-3 pages each is bloody ridiculous. Though, granted, it is a college English course, even if I'm in highschool.
Speaking of Shakespeare, "Hamlet" came on Sci-Fi today. No, I'm not lying! It was on Mystery Science Theater 3000. I love that show. Who doesn't? But speaking of good television viewing, guess who's hosting Saturday Night Live tonight? Elijah Wood! YESSSSS!!! Score one for every teenage girl without a life! What a way to end a loooong, painful week. Just sit down with a bowl of popcorn (fat-free) and Pepsi (diet) in pajamas (Spongebob ones, nonetheless) and a sad-lookin' up-do in the hair with a recording videotape in the VCR/DVD player thingee. That's pretty much what I do every night, minus the popcorn and soda. Usually it's a tiny cup of milk or tea. I don't like eating very much any more, all of a sudden. It's not that I'm trying not to eat, I'm just never hungry any more.
Maybe it's because I've got a mild case of the flu. I look terrible and feel even worse. My chest burns when I breathe. Terrible, terrible. Stupid flu shot, it didn't do a thing. I'm angry and my ears hurt. But, I have SNL to look forward to. I hope Maya Rudolph does a Versace sketch, because I LOVE those sketches. And I love the Weekend update. It's like Kids in the Hall, but with a musical guest and nicer hair. Oh, and women.
"It's not pining. It's passed on. This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to its perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot!"
Ah, Monty Python. Sometimes there's just nothing better.
Anyways, yes, yes, yes. It is that time of year. The time for shopping, those annoying clay animated Christmas movies from the 60's, and the time for cleaning. Yes, cleaning! Run, run while you can. Flee this miserable fate that awates you at the next turn, for it is always too much a mess to put up a dusty plastic Christmas tree and put up the dusty, glass ornaments that inevitably break with that heart-stopping *pop* of a bulb as they crash to the brick fireplace of the living room.
Sadly enough, the aforementioned act has prevented me from attending an early b-day party of my friend, Liz! Terrible! I didn't remember until today, and she's a bestest friend, and we hardly hang out ever anymore. And I feel bad about it. Despicable.
But I decorated my diary. My tangible diary, not this online diary! I put in a buncha pictures and stickers and calligraphy and drawings (of the Taj Mahal and stuff, nothing big) and now it's as individual as I am! Well, there's nothing on the outside, but it's all in plastic protectors and taped on pages and blah, blah, blah. It looks like it was all glued together in an eccentric fashion in mere moments of madness. Which it kinda was done in said fashion, so I guess that's not a far-off description. I'll end up taking some of it out before I turn it for an English grade. I take a lot of my entries from this diary, so, yeah.
Hmm, I had a buncha stuffs to type, but it seems that it has all escaped me. Oh! Darn it! Where is my class ring? If I lost it again, I'm gonna throttle someone. Or at least pants someone. Where is it? I bet it's by a sink. One of four or five of 'em 'round this place. It's really loose, so it's easy to forget that I don't have it on. Does that make sense? It did to me.
My brother is practicing his viola right now. When I try to play his viola, it hurts my fingers because it's a small viola. 3/4 size, because he's only 13. My cello is full size, but I'm 16 and freakishly tall. Oh! I took a make-up Orchestra test, and nailed it, nailed it to the wall and beat it over and over. Well, I wasn't that good, and I coulda done a bit better, maybe a warmer tone and a bit more vibrato or something (even if it is a baroque piece). But it's Handel, and I am related to Handel. My great-grandmother was a Handel before she was married, not a direct descendant beacuse Handel never had legitimate children, but as close as it gets. So, hooray, I'm related to Handel and Madonna and Elvis and etc etc etc. There's a loooong list that I don't feel like typing.
Actually, I feel like drinking something. Hmm, diet Pepsi with a buncha ice, despite the fact that it's gotta be 30 or so degrees here. I wish it would at least snow for Christmas since I can't go to New York this time. Maybe I'll get to go for Spring Break, since that's when I was supposed to go to Florida with friends. But I cancelled that one to use that money to go to New York, but I guess that doesn't matter. At least I'm lucky enough to have a nice Christmas every year, lucky enough to have 3 meals a day (even if they consist of popcorn and diet soda since I'm never hungry). And there'll be a lot of New York Christmases in my future when I head up to Columbia for college.
Funny, my dad, who works at Columbia no less, doesn't seem to think that I'll make it in with a 3.8 GPA. And they accept people with straight "c" averages. And Vanessa Carlton. She never finished highschool, so it's not like it's THAT hard to get accepted, whatever the amount of reputability.
I'm going to take my leave. Au revoir! Je souhaite que vous ayez un bon NoŽl! Or Channuka or Kwanzaa or late, late, late, late Guy Fawkes Day (Hooray for the Gun Powder Plot!) or early, early, early St. Patrick's Day/Rose of Trulee festival or all at once.