Well, isn't it fun to be out of titles? Well, I'm glad. I just found one that matches me, and voila! I'm a crazy conservative! Because everyone knows we like to party hard, us Republicans. All joking aside (that was joking?), I did have some loverly Will & Grace quotes lined up, but I got lazy. Didn't wanna look 'em up. I promise: next time.
Remember that lame story I was working on and put a paragraph of it in here? Yeah. That boring one that was a sorry try at the classic form. Yep. Well, you'll be happy to note that I'm on my second chapter! My first wasn't very long, but I hand-wrote it all, so when it's typed, it'll be much longer. It might even be eight pages instead of four! Well, we can all hope, can't we? It really is a kind of short chapter, but it's my first attempt at what I deem to be great fiction. Which means by critical standards, it's like reading Nora Roberts on cough syrup. Only not so much a romantic novel as a novel in the classic Romantic style (do remember that even Poe was a Romanticist!).
I hate romance novels.
Well, I don't like the idea of romance much. I don't know what my problem is, but I'm just not like a regular boy-hungry teenage girl. I've just got no desire to have a boyfriend, no desire to go on dates, just a desire to sit down and paint something. Or work on college applications (which is what I should be doing-- coughcough). And I just ADORE George Eliot's Daniel Deronda for just that point. I know, I keep talking about this book, and you're probably wondering why I don't have it finished already: because I can only spare it about five minutes every night, and even then I tend to re-read paragraphs and pick apart the words. But, as I'm sure I've told you, I can't help but relate to Gwendolen Harleth. Except I think I'm more pious than she. Well, whatever the case, if you want to know what I'm talking about, just read any other entry. If you don't find it, you're blind, and read the book and/or see the movie. If you just don't care, I envy you.
Okay, I got my senior pictures in the mail, and my mom ordered the three-hundred dollar pack, with a print the size of a wall mural. It was larger than life size. You have no idea how bizarre it is to see your face larger than your face, to hold your own face up in front of you. It's so creepy. But I like it. It made me feel *famous*. One day my face'll be on billboards... let's just hope it doesn't have a "Most Wanted" number under it. But, yes, I've got enough wallet prints to hand out to the population of Spain. So, if anybody wants one, they'll be a dollar on sale tomorrow. *Just kidding!* Free. But donations are welcome.
I'm just trying to economise before I get to college. New York is the best place for shopping, and I've got a nice little shopping itch.
And on Thursday I go visit Columbia Uni. lady, and Monday I might get to meet some Congressmen (and women!) from my state for the Student Leadership Forum. But first I have to go to the office to pick up the info. Then I have a French Club Meeting tomorrow after school. HYDROXIDE NITRATE! (Get it?!? OH NO?!? Never mind) I forgot about the $10 dues! Poop. Merde. Zut. Sacre bleu (my ALT key isn't working, my keyboard is getting old). (And I don't know any more French curses). Oh! And I got a 100 on my French test. GO ME!