So, I was in line for Harry Potter from 6 in the evening to about 1 in the morning. And I haven't yet finished it. Y'see, we only bought one copy, and my brother and I argue on who reads it when. So, we read it together out loud, which gives me acting practice and a sore throat, so the going's slow.
I got my AP exam results in the mail. I only got a 3 on Government, which isn't bad considering I didn't like the class. I got a 4 in French, which is really good considering the only two or three students who ever made "A"s in AP French in HHS history made 4s. And I got a 5 in English 12, which is the highest possible. And that's good. It's very good. I was a little uncertain about the multiple choice in some areas, but my essays were fun, I think. And I'm certain they'll be using my French tape for AP practice on "How not to answer a question in French". I'm mortified at that possibility... but, then again, I won't hear it myself, so why worry?
Ick, I just realised that I used the word "got" far too many times in that paragraph. I hate that word. It's so ugly.
Anyway. I'm waiting for the shower so I can clean up and then... get dusty again cleaning my brother's room. I'm afraid to find a gigantic man-eating spider lurking around some dark and shadowy corner, with massive skull-crushing black hairy legs and with teeth the size of a colossus and sharpened to fine and glistening points. And I'll have nothing to do but scream, and cling desperately to my swiffer sweeper as I pray and beg for mercy and pity, Mr. Spider! I've got my whole life ahead of me! My meat is mostly fat, I swear it! Take this teddy instead!
At Barnes and Noble I found Ulysses annotated, about five times the size of the actual book. I wonder if James Joyce is just looking down (or up?!?) at use with a wide, evil grin. From behind that dashing eye patch and those Harry Potter glasses (which was sarcasm, by the way). "Why do those people waste their time learning about life from books when they can experience it themselves? Why don't they get my joke?" Quite frankly, life in books is far more interesting. Even if you only understand 10% of what's occurring.
How did I go off on that tangent? As long as I'm on it, has anyone else here ever seen photos of people from the Victorian era, when cameras were just new, and been able to picture the subject of the photo in perfectly modern life? As though the picture had been taken at one of those sepia-colouring photo booths with dress-up boxes on the sides? Anton Chekhov is one of those. It's weird. Whenever I see a picture of him, even his clothing would fit in on the streets of today. Pretty cool! Puh-retty cool!
I'm rather certain I had a more appropriate reason to type on here, more appropriate than just shootin'-the-breeze with passerby. But, alas, I'm going to hit the showers, mess with my face (I'm thinking a mask might get rid of the oil produced by pms), and clean, clean, clean. I'll have to let the mask dry before I clean, though, so I don't get dust or, heaven forbid, spiders, stuck in it.
Title's of my brother's creation, explaining the death of a German king. That group is such fodder in my house. Them and their socks. Stupid socks! Hah! Hah hah! Hah!