Well. I've been cleaning. Everything. (Do you like my fragmented syntax? Thought I'd give somethin' new a try.)
The dining room is officially clean, you can now see my brother's floor (and even walk through the whole room, oh my goodness), my room is relatively clean (minus the desk, covered from figurative head to toe in literal Disney toys and French postcards... and some Monet paintings on postcards... and some postcards from Colonial Williamsburg) (if ever you're in Virginia, USA, stop by Colonial Williamsburg, it's one of my favourite places ever!), and I even took some time out for a pointalism picture of an Irish Church. I wish I had nice pastels, mine are more like really, really waxy crayons. But at least I've been blessed enough to have that much! And the weekend off allows me to help out and relax. A four day weekend, mind you!
For instance, I was actually un-depressed enough, and awake enough to sit up reading a bit of Elliot last night. Though sometimes I felt like I kept re-reading the same sentence. Though sometimes I felt like I kept re-reading the same sentence. Don't you hate it when that happens? Despite my attention span, it's exciting stuff, that Daniel Deronda. I love the symbols of archery, kind of overt, but rich, very rich. It's strange how I haven't even gotten to any parts but a couple of pages in the beginning even concerning the title character... but she knows what she's doing with the plot. I know. And how do I know? I've seen the movie already. I'm a cheater. I'm also a nerd. Yeah.
Speaking of movies, le titre is from the new Spongebob movie coming out sooner or later. There are so many movies I want to see this season. First and foremost: Finding Neverland. Something about the Peter Pan story always gets me, it's so strangely depressing that I just don't even know whether or not I like it, I only know that it involves me. Next, I have to see The Polar Express. It looks strange, not so much happy as, again, involving. I remember reading that book to my brother when he was younger. Another I hafta see is A Series of Unfortunate Events. I actually really like that book. I read it when my brother wouldn't notice, the first one anyways ("A Bad Beginning"), and, again, I'm fascinated by children's books. This one, by "Lemony Snicket", is incredibly clever (it's where I developed the idea from the double sentence in the paragraph above, so thank Lemony for screwing with your thoughts, don't blame me), and actually informative. One could honestly study for SAT vocabulary sections with these books, words like "incur" and "feign" are used, and though I use them in everyday conversation, kids don't, but the author explains them in a very interesting way. And the use of setting is quite neat, too, the timelessness of it... there are carriages, but motorcycles... leaning towers on old mansions, but flashlights (or torches for my foreign friends out there!).
I'd love to be able to write childrens' books so cleverly sometime in my life, and if you want to as well, I recommend that book highly. Those books, to be more correct.
My mum went to a car dealership today, to get the "Service Engine Soon" warning-light off of the dashboard. It turns out that there had been a recall a month before on my mum's car. My dad was there when Pontiac first sent the recall notice, and he read over it, in its entirety, and then yelled at my mum for wanting to take it in because, despite the fact that it was free to fix, it wasn't really important. Then he took the letter so we couldn't read back over it. Turns out that little unimportant problem is actually fatal if left unfixed. Fatal to everyone in the car, the car that my dad never drives. When my mum asked him today why he said it was so unimportant, he said he just thought the repairmen would make it worse, though he understood that it was hazardous.
So, my dad doesn't even care if I'm dead.
Well, that's fine with me. I guess it doesn't bother me so much. Gotta go, Will & Grace is on!