(no subject)
Just like talking to my sister really. I'd really really really want to talk to someone because I missed them terribly, but talking to them made me all the sadder. Perhaps even confused because they don't pay attention or listen or anything like that. I don't want to be here anymore I don't want to be anywhere. Sometimes I sound like a less eloquent version of Hamlet. This is getting pathetic. I've an essay due on Monday and I've got writer's block. I can't figure out an opening to an essay about how Medea is the only true human in Euripides' Medea. *bangs head on desk* Out outoutoutout! SAT tutor tomorrow. Haven't done much of the homework like he asked me to. Have been very busy this week. Oh, how about an example of irony? I love Latin like no other girl in my class. I love it, I love it, I love ancient Rome, I love Catullus, I love Latin! But...and here's the rub, I can't seem to do much of it right! How's that for dramatic irony? Poetic devices at work in a shitty piece of prose! Maybe not even prose. I don't think this qualifies. Perhaps I should term it a rhetorical device. Maybe that statisfies. I worked really hard on 7 too. Like we're talking I went through every single bloody word and tried to find its match, how I was to translate the ablative, that sort of thing. Grrr. My calculus book is being silly too. I know the limit is 4! Don't try to tell me it's 0! The graph on my calculator agrees with me!
Was that enough oh so sullen teenager for you? Have I fulfilled my sulking quota for the day?
and now the poem that makes me happy
Fluffy Bunnies, by Jenny
Fluffy, fluffy bunnies,
Fluffy, f***ing bunnies.
For some reason, that makes me smile every time. Try saying it aloud laughing while you say it or at least a few seconds after you say it. If that doesn't work, say it really fast five times. I dare you. Go.
PS: My computer hates me. Actually it's the internet that does. It takes me 2 hours to do a system restore on my computer just so I can open MSN.com.
The world hates me. Fortune pisses on me again. My life is strewn with cow pats from the Devil's own Satanic herd.
The End.
PPS: My new harp teacher thinks I'm a freak because I love Catullus. I miss Paula. Paula understands these things.