(no subject)
Well, I have been so thoughtfully informed by my head of house that the posting requirements for these journals do indeed apply to me. I do not see why they should, considering that I obviously have many a better thing to do than spend my days with my head bowed over parchment. I don't even like to write. But apparently no one took my feelings into account when this project was assigned, as I am currently doing just that.
I bumped into that dreadful Frobisher again in the hallway today. It would seem that she has returned to her natural state of insanity. I do not often deal with her, though I do find that I prefer her when she is cheerful rather than when she is on the warpath, scribbling furiously into her ridiculously plain journal as she nearly knocks me over in the hallway! At least then, she makes the thoughtless offer of cookies. However, I would not accept something that she made, and even if I would, I am on a diet at the moment. I would like to lose six pounds.
In other and more irritating news, Sammy has been frightfully neglectful of me lately. I tried to speak to him while he was doing his homework, and he practically ignored me. It was very insensitive! And he always seems as if his mind is somewhere else when we actually conversate, too. I was attempting to tell him about the lovely ring that my mother's new boyfriend sent to me (That man is certainly a keeper! He is very rich. Of course, mother will not hear that), and at the end, he referred to it as a bracelet! He obviously wasn't listening to a word I said. I do not know how he could try to label himself as my best friend when he treats me in such a deplorable manner! Sammy, I am appalled at you. Absolutely appalled.
I wonder if I could get a pass from Hogwarts for the weekend to do some shopping. I need new shoes. If I didn't have so little trust for the makers, I would order one of those odd little snackbox things and simply faint so much that they would send me home. That way, I might even get an extension on my Transfiguration. I really do not want to do it. It is so boring.
I would like to note again that Sammy Capper is a very poor best friend right about now, and that he shall be receiving quite a talking to when I next see him. And he'd better listen this time. I am fed up!
-- Tracey
I bumped into that dreadful Frobisher again in the hallway today. It would seem that she has returned to her natural state of insanity. I do not often deal with her, though I do find that I prefer her when she is cheerful rather than when she is on the warpath, scribbling furiously into her ridiculously plain journal as she nearly knocks me over in the hallway! At least then, she makes the thoughtless offer of cookies. However, I would not accept something that she made, and even if I would, I am on a diet at the moment. I would like to lose six pounds.
In other and more irritating news, Sammy has been frightfully neglectful of me lately. I tried to speak to him while he was doing his homework, and he practically ignored me. It was very insensitive! And he always seems as if his mind is somewhere else when we actually conversate, too. I was attempting to tell him about the lovely ring that my mother's new boyfriend sent to me (That man is certainly a keeper! He is very rich. Of course, mother will not hear that), and at the end, he referred to it as a bracelet! He obviously wasn't listening to a word I said. I do not know how he could try to label himself as my best friend when he treats me in such a deplorable manner! Sammy, I am appalled at you. Absolutely appalled.
I wonder if I could get a pass from Hogwarts for the weekend to do some shopping. I need new shoes. If I didn't have so little trust for the makers, I would order one of those odd little snackbox things and simply faint so much that they would send me home. That way, I might even get an extension on my Transfiguration. I really do not want to do it. It is so boring.
I would like to note again that Sammy Capper is a very poor best friend right about now, and that he shall be receiving quite a talking to when I next see him. And he'd better listen this time. I am fed up!
-- Tracey