(no subject)
My Mystery Eggs for this month hatched~! And they're all quite interesting this time, so I think I'll keep em all. I'm still waiting on that ugly blue tadpole thing from last month to change to something more interesting, assuming it ever will. I think I'm addicted to collecting these buggers.
Anyway~! Got my Man of La Mancha essay back. I'm more than happy that this stupid 7 page thing which cost me a great portion of my sleep and sanity was worthy of an 88% in Ashworth's eyes, which is actually probably the highest essay mark I've received since grade 10 started and I actually had English teachers who knew what the hell they were doing.
I'm now debating whether or not I should do my Hamlet creative assignment, which is due tomorrow. I know she's going to have 2 marks calculated for our midterms, one with and one without our dreaded poetry quiz from earlier this semester. Which ever one is higher will be entered in. I really don't know how all our other assignments are being weighted. She told us one time, but she went through all the numbers so fast I couldn't keep track. I think the seminar is worth 10%?
Well, I think that with this essay and my seminar, I should be pulled into a relatively safe low 70 range without my poetry quiz being entered into my midterm. I think. Not entirely sure right now. I just know that everybody's Hamlet creatives have been ripped apart by her so far to one extent or another. Apparently her idea of 'no recounting events' includes the use of vague phrases like, "Oh, what a horrible event last night", and are immediately scratched out with fervour.
I find it difficult to whine with Hamlet's mindset for 500 words, since I'd much rather whine in my own. If my marks seem to be in the safe zone as I think they should be, then I'd rather not ruin that.
Man. Of all the years I could've fallen flat on my face at the start of a semester of English, I needed to pick the year when it counted the most. I'm praying to god that I'm starting to pick myself up like I think I am.
I cannot wait until Easter weekend so that school will stop sucking out my brains.On a less bothersome and worrisome note, I got accepted into Ryerson's journalism program.
My aunt said that the letter arrived yesterday apparently, and it must be because of my apathy that I did not notice it. That's why she opened it first. Well, she WAS the one threatening to sever all relations with me if I didn't apply to the goddamned thing, so I shrugged and told her it didn't really matter when I saw the letter---it would've come eventually anyway. She raised an eyebrow and asked what made me think that I'd definitely be accepted. I said, "Because I'm good." She then gave me a look that said, "Cocky much?" before walking away and I closed my door.
Normally, I would not be so cocky. But the whole glarefest that happened because of this stupid Ryerson application just pissed me off.
Besides, I really DID think I'd get in after thinking about my credentials and application for a while. Ironically, I need a 76.6% or something in English to stay accepted, and while I would've just brushed that off as an easily achievable goal just a few months prior, I'm now working my ass off to pull my marks in English from an abysmal mid 50 (from my estimate) to a 70 for midterm.
And in other news, there is a dead raccoon corpse or something to that effect under the fence between ours and our neighbour's yards. I have not seen it to confirm, nor do I want to. I don't think my aunt does either. But it vexes my grandmother greatly, and none of us really know what to do about it.
So long as it's really a raccoon and not the adorable Red-Panda-esque Groundhog (that we affectionately call Bo) who was oft seen last summer in our yard, I'm somewhat less mortified.
Anyway~! Got my Man of La Mancha essay back. I'm more than happy that this stupid 7 page thing which cost me a great portion of my sleep and sanity was worthy of an 88% in Ashworth's eyes, which is actually probably the highest essay mark I've received since grade 10 started and I actually had English teachers who knew what the hell they were doing.
I'm now debating whether or not I should do my Hamlet creative assignment, which is due tomorrow. I know she's going to have 2 marks calculated for our midterms, one with and one without our dreaded poetry quiz from earlier this semester. Which ever one is higher will be entered in. I really don't know how all our other assignments are being weighted. She told us one time, but she went through all the numbers so fast I couldn't keep track. I think the seminar is worth 10%?
Well, I think that with this essay and my seminar, I should be pulled into a relatively safe low 70 range without my poetry quiz being entered into my midterm. I think. Not entirely sure right now. I just know that everybody's Hamlet creatives have been ripped apart by her so far to one extent or another. Apparently her idea of 'no recounting events' includes the use of vague phrases like, "Oh, what a horrible event last night", and are immediately scratched out with fervour.
I find it difficult to whine with Hamlet's mindset for 500 words, since I'd much rather whine in my own. If my marks seem to be in the safe zone as I think they should be, then I'd rather not ruin that.
Man. Of all the years I could've fallen flat on my face at the start of a semester of English, I needed to pick the year when it counted the most. I'm praying to god that I'm starting to pick myself up like I think I am.
I cannot wait until Easter weekend so that school will stop sucking out my brains.On a less bothersome and worrisome note, I got accepted into Ryerson's journalism program.
My aunt said that the letter arrived yesterday apparently, and it must be because of my apathy that I did not notice it. That's why she opened it first. Well, she WAS the one threatening to sever all relations with me if I didn't apply to the goddamned thing, so I shrugged and told her it didn't really matter when I saw the letter---it would've come eventually anyway. She raised an eyebrow and asked what made me think that I'd definitely be accepted. I said, "Because I'm good." She then gave me a look that said, "Cocky much?" before walking away and I closed my door.
Normally, I would not be so cocky. But the whole glarefest that happened because of this stupid Ryerson application just pissed me off.
Besides, I really DID think I'd get in after thinking about my credentials and application for a while. Ironically, I need a 76.6% or something in English to stay accepted, and while I would've just brushed that off as an easily achievable goal just a few months prior, I'm now working my ass off to pull my marks in English from an abysmal mid 50 (from my estimate) to a 70 for midterm.
And in other news, there is a dead raccoon corpse or something to that effect under the fence between ours and our neighbour's yards. I have not seen it to confirm, nor do I want to. I don't think my aunt does either. But it vexes my grandmother greatly, and none of us really know what to do about it.
So long as it's really a raccoon and not the adorable Red-Panda-esque Groundhog (that we affectionately call Bo) who was oft seen last summer in our yard, I'm somewhat less mortified.