the average goddess,
the compulsive shopaholic,
the absentminded ditz,
and just a little insane.
; drama mama; councillor;
1. participate more actively in CYF/Mustard Seed.
2. participate more in CCAs.
3. be a better older sister.
4. be a better daughter for once.
5. get good grades and maintain them.
, not talk. (this applies to class too!)
7. have a journal/diary.
8. be a friend to everyone.
9. remember important dates.
10. stay happy, even when the tears fall. :)
Friday, October 10, 2003
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i went offline to study my twentieth century short stories and surprise, surprise, i'm back again. because i spent about an hour and a half just throwing pink and white marshmallows in the air and catching them with my mouth and reading my journal at the same time. highly unproductive so i'm here improving my english and typing skills while simultaneuously destryoing my already-impaired eyesight. i'm going to become very blind very soon. anyway. i am seriously bored. *sighs* i know! i've just been struck with sudden inspiration. i know everyone loves literature so here's an excerpt from one of the stories i'm reading/pretending to read/studying/ for my literature exam tomorrow:
The week after was one of the busiest weeks of their lives. Even when they went to bed it was only their minds that lay down and rested; their minds went on, thinking things out, talking things over, wondering, deciding, trying to remember where...
Constantia lay like a statue, her hands by her sides, her feet just overlapping each other, the sheet up to her chin. She stared at the ceiling.
"Do you think father would mind if we gave his top-hat to the porter?"
"The porter?" snapped Josephine. "Why ever the porter? What a very extraordinary idea!"
"Because," said Constantia slowly, "he must often have to go to funerals. And I noticed at - at the cemetery that he only had a bowler." She paused. "I thought then how very much he'd appreciate a top-hat. We ought to give him a present too. He was always very nice to father."
"But," cried Josephine, flouncing on her pillow and staring across the dark at Constantia, "father's head!" And suddenly, for one awful moment, she nearly giggled. Not, of course, that she felt in the least like giggling. It must have been habit. Years ago, when they had stayed awake at night talking, their beds had simply heaved. And now the porter's head, disappearing, popped out, like a candle, under father's hat.. The giggle mounted, mounted; she clenched her hands; she fought it down; she frowned fiercely at the dark and said "Remember" terribly sternly.
it's so nice. hahaha that's only the beginning though. the rest of the story is just as nice, except that it's far too long (12 chapters) and yeah i'm not that lame. hahaha. *contradictory* oh and here's the other story we're to be tested on tomorrow. joteo would get so excited every time she analyses this story, it wouldn't have been surprising to see her spontaneously combust during a double-lit period. but it's a nice story so yeah haha =) :
The children were to be driven, as a special treat, to the sands at Jagborough. Nicholas was not to be of the party; he was in disgrace. Only that morning he had refused to eat his wholesome bread-and-milk on the seemingly frivolous grounds that there was a frog in it. Older and wiser and better people had told him there could not possibly be a frog in his bread-and-milk and that he was not to talk nonsense; he continued, nevertheless, to talk what seemed the veriest nonsense, and described with much detail the markings of the alleged frog. The dramatic part of the incident was that there really was a frog in Nicholas' basin of bread-and-milk; he had put it there himself, so he felt entitled to know something about it. The sin of taking a frog from the garden and putting it into a bowl of wholesome bread-and-milk was enlarged on at great length, but the fact that stood out clearest in the whole affair, as it presented itself to the mind of Nicholas, was that the older, wiser, and better people had been proved to be profoundly in error in matters which they expressed the utmost assurance.
"You said there couldn't possibly be a frog in my bread-and-milk; there *was* a frog in my bread-and-milk," he repeated, and with the insistence of a skilled tactician who does not intend to shift from favourable ground.
*it's so interesting right! hahaha. read this story! "The Lumber Room", by Saki (or HH Munroe) and the other one was "The Daughters of the Late Colonel" by Katherine Mansfield.
at 6:35 PM