I haven't had time to read anyone else's diaries, or reply to my lovely notes, but I love you all! I decided to let everybody know that I haven't overturned the laws of gravity and flown off the Earth...
So, my Christmas Orchestra Concert was tonight. My group... ROCKED OUT LOUD!!!. Granted, the music Mr. P gave us was about three years below us, but we did so well, that even I was very impressed. And my mum bought the concert on DVD. Yes! I am officially a recorded cellist! CD, DVD, and VHS. I'm so proud... I'm actually so proud, I'd love to play my cello for Church. Maybe my mum can pull some strings.
Haha! Get it? Strings!
But this one girl, a freshman, was so fantastic in her solo during her group's performance... Me, oh, my. She should have had a microphone placed in front of her while she played. She was so wonderful that all of my cellos turned around to each other, mouths agape. Then everyone looked at me, like, "Why can't you be like that?!?" Well, I'll have to practise. A lot. But I'll be that good, eventually. Eventually being the key word.
So, if anyone's been wondering where I've been, it's due to a lovely thing called AP English class. Every single project imaginable has been assigned to us over this past week, and only one more to finish this weekend. Then I'll be done. But I made a powerpoint on Shakespeare's Sonnet 66. Look it up. Read it. Good. It's my favourite sonnet, I think. Well, Shakespearean Sonnet. I adore poetry, but the next unit is drama! Which, I happen to adore even more. But, for now, savouring Yeats, Browning, Plath, and Frost is more than enough food for the soul.
Speaking of, the ninth grade orchestra played the Hallelujah Chorus. How jealous am I? I love Handel, he's my favourite composer. I'm as direct a descendant as possible of Handel (considering he had no legitimate children... cough, cough), and I could just sit back and use my time up reading George Eliot and listening to Messiah. Or Telemann.
I guess this is all very superficial... no insight... my father signed seperation papers, so everything is legal now. But he's still visiting in a couple of days until the first. I don't care. If I can go to Church and work on my college applications, I'm fine.
I was also deferred (*ouch*) from Columbia, and didn't want to tell my dad (I thought he would laugh at me), but he told me that one of his employees said that Columbia deferment is as good as acceptance. Meh, I pray this is the case, it would make my life so much more wonderful. If not, that's not too much skin off my back. I can move on, and go to NYU. Or UVa. Or University of South Carolina. Or Christopher Newport. Or maybe I can just skip college and travel abroad for my education, like Daniel Deronda.
I'm such a nerd.
And my hair feels pretty today. I curled it much more neatly than it does naturally with my grandmother's curling-iron. I love it so much that I may sacrifice my arms and time to do it every morning... Normally my hair is just like Hermione Granger's. No lie. And I walk down hallways with piles of books in my arms, most of which don't even pertain to school. People lie to me and tell me that my hair is pretty, but I like it better when the curl is accentuated, so I may just give up the eccentric artsy look for something a little more prepster. Nothing wrong with looking prim and proper, is there? Plus, I love compliments. (Insert compliment here ____. Thank you for your cooperation.)
I should probably go. It's time for bed, which means time for more reading and Handel. Maybe I'll listen to Vivaldi instead, I'm in a mood for that, I think.
Geez, mum, you know what I would like for Christmas? Some pink leather gloves. I'm into leather all of a sudden, especially the kind that's pink. With a bow and key-hole cut-out would be nice. Thanks oodles! (Can you tell what I found on the dining table today? Hmm...)
Et le titre est français... un chason de Noël français qui s'appelle "Pat-a-pan". Il y a aussi le même chanson en anglais, mais le chason original et plus bon, oui? Mon français n'est pas très bon à ce moment, mais, je ne peux pas être parfaite toujours.