Nocturnal
Well, I should be getting tired soon. Maybe in a few hours.
Finished my essay with about a minute to spare. I think the lady at the reception desk recognizes me by now; I'm the one who comes sprinting in there at 4:57, gasping "Did I make it?" and slapping by paper down on the counter. This time she gave me this big smile and said, "Yes! You did!" Either she's mocking me or is a very laid-back person.
I ended up writing an analysis of one of Keats' sonnets ("On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again"). I'm pretty sure it was really, really wrong. You may be saying to yourself, "But, surely a well-organized argument from a fairly intelligent mind regarding something as subjective as poetry can't be strictly wrong?
Well, trust me, it can. Severely wrong. I'm just hoping Dalton doesn't lose too much respect for my intelligence after this. Also I'm hoping for a high B, but I don't want to be too optimistic.
I promised my sister (same age as me, not a twin, most of you know this already) I'd lose ten pounds with her. It's not like I don't need to; hell, I should lose fifty. I'm just not sure I can. I hate to back out on her, though; she's all geared up about this whole challenge thing she's worked out: if one of us loses more than the other, the other has to buy her a particular gift under $20. Hanna's cheesy and lovable like that. I chose the complete (so far) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series; she chose one of those rice pillows that you can heat up in the microwave (weird, weird girl, that one). I mean, what the hell, right? If I lose I'll just buy it anyway. Sometimes I just can't understand the way her mind works.
Finished my essay with about a minute to spare. I think the lady at the reception desk recognizes me by now; I'm the one who comes sprinting in there at 4:57, gasping "Did I make it?" and slapping by paper down on the counter. This time she gave me this big smile and said, "Yes! You did!" Either she's mocking me or is a very laid-back person.
I ended up writing an analysis of one of Keats' sonnets ("On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again"). I'm pretty sure it was really, really wrong. You may be saying to yourself, "But, surely a well-organized argument from a fairly intelligent mind regarding something as subjective as poetry can't be strictly wrong?
Well, trust me, it can. Severely wrong. I'm just hoping Dalton doesn't lose too much respect for my intelligence after this. Also I'm hoping for a high B, but I don't want to be too optimistic.
I promised my sister (same age as me, not a twin, most of you know this already) I'd lose ten pounds with her. It's not like I don't need to; hell, I should lose fifty. I'm just not sure I can. I hate to back out on her, though; she's all geared up about this whole challenge thing she's worked out: if one of us loses more than the other, the other has to buy her a particular gift under $20. Hanna's cheesy and lovable like that. I chose the complete (so far) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series; she chose one of those rice pillows that you can heat up in the microwave (weird, weird girl, that one). I mean, what the hell, right? If I lose I'll just buy it anyway. Sometimes I just can't understand the way her mind works.