March 20th, 2002

reeciebastion

(no subject)

Argh. My prof is evil. He cut two pages out of my paper, and the final draft is due tomorrow. How am I supposed to spontaneously conjure two pages out of thin air? He cut out all the centralized parts!
...and it's due *tomorrow*!
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reeciebastion

I am *stupid*...

I stay up 'til three *finishing* the damn paper, and I sleep through the first ten minutes of the class.

Well, I can't show up late... I guess I'll have to hover outside and hand it in to him at the end, or something... o.O
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    anxious anxious
reeciebastion

I don't know why I just thought of this.

In eighth grade English Enriched we wrote letters to our future selves. The letters were left with the teacher, and the teacher was to mail them to us when we were in twelfth grade.
When my letter came last year, my mum got it first - and she read it. I remember thinking something unflattering about my mum at the time. It was an uneasy feeling, knowing she'd read my mail. Especially given some of the stuff in *that* letter. I really was *weird* when I was thirteen. ;)
Urg.
I handed in my paper - to the prof's secretary. I actually went to the class about ten minutes before the end, and it was empty and dark. Apparently he let them out early and since I wasn't there I didn't know that. So I went to his office, figuring he'd have to drop by his office before he left - the door was open, but he wasn't there. The secretary said later he was probably drifting around somewhere... but I went in, and the box of papers was sitting on his desk. I was sorely tempted just to slip my paper in with the others. But I didn't. Stupid integrity.
I left it with his secretary instead. I just hope it won't get marks off (hey, I went to hand it in, I'm entitled to full marks!) - this draft is only worth fourty percent, but I only got sixty percent on the draft that was worth sixty percent. (Sixty percent of sixty percent. What is that ? I hate math.)
Point is, I need a good-ish mark on this draft to get a good-ish mark on the paper.
I am profoundly sick of school now. I want it to be *over*, damnit. It's a month and two days before I leave here. (On that note, JB and Dex, are you lot going to be available around the 24th-26th? I'm not sure of exact dates yet, but around there...) Dad's friend isn't coming now, so it's gonna be just me and dad. Hourrah. And yes, Lise, I'll *try* not to kill him, but I can't make any promises. You'll vouch for me, right? ;)
I wrote more Concrete Versus Empyreal last night, a new story, called Double, Double. I was ridiculously proud of myself for the cleverness of that title. o.O
But Keltie will be pleased.
(While I'm at it, here's a shameless plug for my mailing list!)
I still really want to go to Subcon... but I don't know if I'll have the cash. I hate money. That is, I like money, but I hate all the money that isn't making a concerted effort to become *my* money. Stupid, disobedient little pieces of paper. I had to ask my parents for money yesterday. That sucked. I don't *want* to owe them money...
Ah, well. Even if I can't make it to Subcon, Kimry and I are doing our Sights of the West Coast road trip this summer. Yay, road trips.
Ug. I'm tired. But I can't sleep. I've actually been doing too much of that lately. Already missed one class today, out of sheer stupidity. And I have another class in a while. I think I'll read. If I can find anything in here I haven't already read...
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reeciebastion

Damn you, H.G. Wells.

I wonder if the director of the new Time Machine movie is related to H.G. His surname is Wells.
Ooh, I want to see this movie, though. It looks nifty. I hadn't previously considered the added niftyness factor added by re-making a movie about a time machine so long after the first one - for example, when he's travelling through time, the point at which the directors must start guessing about what it'll look like is a good deal further on.
And just watching the profiles about it on Space is giving me ideas. Story ideas.
No, *bad* me! I have... serious... essays to...
...but SHINY!
*muttergrumble*
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    busy busy