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Oct. 9th, 2003 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
htothehI started listening to a couple of New Found Glory songs on a whim, and God help me, I think they're growing on me again. I will never, ever admit that they can sing, but they make a glorious amount of sound, and I like their harmonies, and they have good songs. Chris, this is all your fault.
This has not really been a terribly good week. There's about two too many adverbs in that last sentence, but they'll just have to endure. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep, for various and sundry reasons, only about one of which is possibly valid, I haven't gotten almost any of my homework done, I've angsted at people who are probably now worried about me, and I cried in English. I'm not sure if the worry is valid or not. I don't know how much of the angst is birthed from too-late nights and stress, and how much is actually a problem.
Every once in a while, I'll go back through old notebooks and journals and wonder what happened to the girl who wrote all that stuff. I vaguely remember scribbling some of it, but it seems a long time ago, and very far away. They don't seem like my words anymore. They belong to a complete stranger. I like her writing. She's kind of quirky, with creativity exploding out her ears. The earlier versions don't care much about what other people think, but that slowly leaks in. I don't really see me in her. I don't feel creative anymore, and I'm certainly not confident that my world will always be there, and won't change very much if I don't want it to. I envy small children that, or at least me as a small child. I never expected me to change very much, certainly not being sixteen.
Yesterday in English we got our Scarlet Letter tests back. I got an 81 on mine, through sheer stupidity--she wanted us to do five quotation analyses, and I only did three. She made copies of the answers she really liked, so she could read examples of good answers to people who wanted them. If you're particularly perceptive, you may see where this is going; someone asked about one of the questions I did, and she read a Good Answer. I took my paper out to compare that one with mine, and sure enough, it was my answer. It had sounded only vaguely familiar, better than what my image of my writing is like. It surprised me a lot, that I wrote an answer that sounded that good and used that many three-syllable words.
There's a major disconnect between my self-image and others' image of me in a lot of areas, I have a feeling. And most of the time, mine isn't nearly as good as everyone else's. I don't really know how to bring mine back up to where it should be, and used to be. I think that question is probably related to the one about English homework and completion thereof. And the one about being comfortable with being me.
I still have Environmental homework; that's okay. I've done my Latin, I've done my Calculus, I'm going to bed. Three tests tomorrow, ugh... I know the sightsinging test and theory test don't really count, but still. The idea of three tests is nasty.
G'night.
This has not really been a terribly good week. There's about two too many adverbs in that last sentence, but they'll just have to endure. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep, for various and sundry reasons, only about one of which is possibly valid, I haven't gotten almost any of my homework done, I've angsted at people who are probably now worried about me, and I cried in English. I'm not sure if the worry is valid or not. I don't know how much of the angst is birthed from too-late nights and stress, and how much is actually a problem.
Every once in a while, I'll go back through old notebooks and journals and wonder what happened to the girl who wrote all that stuff. I vaguely remember scribbling some of it, but it seems a long time ago, and very far away. They don't seem like my words anymore. They belong to a complete stranger. I like her writing. She's kind of quirky, with creativity exploding out her ears. The earlier versions don't care much about what other people think, but that slowly leaks in. I don't really see me in her. I don't feel creative anymore, and I'm certainly not confident that my world will always be there, and won't change very much if I don't want it to. I envy small children that, or at least me as a small child. I never expected me to change very much, certainly not being sixteen.
Yesterday in English we got our Scarlet Letter tests back. I got an 81 on mine, through sheer stupidity--she wanted us to do five quotation analyses, and I only did three. She made copies of the answers she really liked, so she could read examples of good answers to people who wanted them. If you're particularly perceptive, you may see where this is going; someone asked about one of the questions I did, and she read a Good Answer. I took my paper out to compare that one with mine, and sure enough, it was my answer. It had sounded only vaguely familiar, better than what my image of my writing is like. It surprised me a lot, that I wrote an answer that sounded that good and used that many three-syllable words.
There's a major disconnect between my self-image and others' image of me in a lot of areas, I have a feeling. And most of the time, mine isn't nearly as good as everyone else's. I don't really know how to bring mine back up to where it should be, and used to be. I think that question is probably related to the one about English homework and completion thereof. And the one about being comfortable with being me.
I still have Environmental homework; that's okay. I've done my Latin, I've done my Calculus, I'm going to bed. Three tests tomorrow, ugh... I know the sightsinging test and theory test don't really count, but still. The idea of three tests is nasty.
G'night.
