When I walked into my English class today, I was the only one in the room except for Mr. Littney (well, okay, Mario walked in a couple seconds later). Mr. Littney was writing something on the board, which I made out to be our latest in-class "assignment," which was to write about our experiences with listening to our audio books.
At the bottom, Mr. Littney wrote, "Low stress, 10 points." Along with something else that I don't remember, but most likely along the same lines.
Eventually, people started trickling in and started reading the assignment on the board. Or more precisely, they all chose to read the second part rather than the first, which was the actual assignment.
Then, Sergio started laughing. Confused, I turned to look at the board, and saw that Mr. Littney had added this line:
"Except for Dino. He should be stressed."
The rest of the day was less interesting, save for perhaps Kathrya's eyebrow-wiggling (and Julie's response), or the ten minutes or so I spent with Cheshire today (I spent a good part of my time trying to think about what I could say and now I have a topic + there is something with me and talking about social studies related subjects lately).
Minor issues with today:
My ankle hurts. Still. Actually, I think it's getting worse, but maybe that is just my impression. At any rate, I am glad I did not wear my high heel boots today. That would have been even more painful.
Also, I need to do something about the awkwardly inopportune situation situations. Or just walk faster. Either way should work.
And, my Chicago interview tomorrow! To be fair, I don't really care about Chicago (not as much as some other schools, i.e. Penn), but it is still an interview and I hope everything will turn out great. Hopefully.
So all in all, not that many issues. It could have been much worse.
. . .
Still no story update today. Will it help if I link Beauty and the Beast instead?
Showing posts with label health problems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health problems. Show all posts
Monday, November 8, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Hindsight Is A Spiteful Kid
The main problem with wanting to prop up your vanity (or just being over-eager in general) is, well, sometimes you wish you hadn't. Really. Not that, I, uh, have any experience in this field or anything. Uh-huh.
But I would like to take this opportunity to note that my ankle does not like me. I was walking from the dining counter to the kitchen counter when my left ankle decided to writhe in pain, and naturally I almost toppled over. Needless to say, it was not fun and resulted in me hobbling on the other leg for a long time (because I was afraid to see if my ankle was okay afterwards).
I have weird joint problems (as Tea nicely pointed out). That I will admit. This ankle thing could be related to my habit of sitting on my ankles, although it does not explain the relative lack of pain in my other ankle, unless I usually only sit on one ankle. I don't know—and I don't want to find out, because that would mean more ankle-sitting and possibly more pain.
Anyway. My mom and I went to Crumbs today, because two of my interviews to come (the early decision/action ones) will occur there. My mom's theory was that we should have a "mock interview" there and see how things go, since I am generally not good around strangers. Instead, the entire journey turned into a "What do you want to do in the future?" talk, but this time with a delicious apple pie cupcake, as opposed to the ordinary talks. My mom's idea of my future (and probably my dad's too, since they think remarkably alike) is that I have three choices: financial whatever, engineer, or doctor. (Okay, so I could have expanded upon the "financial whatever," but then it wouldn't rhyme.)
She is leaning towards doctor. Something about stability and lack of need for aggression.
We are going to Starbucks tomorrow (did you know I have never been to Starbucks, ever?) and figuring out what the second floor will mean for awkwardness in terms of interviews (Ariadne said it was pretty awkward since no one else was talking). I think I will get a hot chocolate tomorrow. Or whatever looks good. Any recommendations?
Also, in light of all the issues going on (primarily mine, but also everyone else's), I have decided that I need to take on a more optimistic, plan-oriented way of approaching things. Of course, I know it's not going to work out that way (I should know, the last few times I tried planning something always just happened), but I am setting some basic guidelines and then letting things roam. I have a December plan (if it ever will happen, that is). And plans are at least something to go by, when everything else is just so chaotic.
. . .
"You are Rena," he said, without any charm. Charm was not needed for those who were desperate enough to see him. "Changed, no doubt. How is the family?"
"Good," I replied. "Everyone who is alive is good."
"You mean yourself?"
So he knew. It should not have been surprising—after all, Allison Saint-Cross knew everything—but a part of me still wished he had not known, that I would be able to bring some shock into his hardened composure. I took his outstretched hand and allowed him to guide me inside the house out of habit. I knew the house better than he did, I had in owned this place with my childhood dreams. But habits, too ingrained in the mind, were hard to break.
"I thought I saw him the other day," he continued. "In a silver robe so characteristically his style. I thought, for once, I was wrong."
The unspoken words stung. Allison was never wrong. It could not have been Ciel. Ciel was—he was—I stared into Allison's eyes. "He came to you last, he must have wanted something from you."
"If he did, he did not tell me."
"Liar! You know very well what he wanted, you probably even gave it to him!"
"No," Allison said. "I meant, he did not come to see me. Not on that day."
"But he said he would," I said. "He told me that was where he was going. And everyone saw him in town, on Bayon Street, and everyone knows that if he was on Bayon Street then he must be—"
"Fate is here too, why don't you ask him?"
He was angry now. He had to be. Allison never mentioned Fate unless he was upset—he always preferred to ignore Fate's existence, as much as possible. I took my hand from his and leaned against the wall. "Fate. Is that why? Because you think Fate has to do with this?"
But I would like to take this opportunity to note that my ankle does not like me. I was walking from the dining counter to the kitchen counter when my left ankle decided to writhe in pain, and naturally I almost toppled over. Needless to say, it was not fun and resulted in me hobbling on the other leg for a long time (because I was afraid to see if my ankle was okay afterwards).
I have weird joint problems (as Tea nicely pointed out). That I will admit. This ankle thing could be related to my habit of sitting on my ankles, although it does not explain the relative lack of pain in my other ankle, unless I usually only sit on one ankle. I don't know—and I don't want to find out, because that would mean more ankle-sitting and possibly more pain.
Anyway. My mom and I went to Crumbs today, because two of my interviews to come (the early decision/action ones) will occur there. My mom's theory was that we should have a "mock interview" there and see how things go, since I am generally not good around strangers. Instead, the entire journey turned into a "What do you want to do in the future?" talk, but this time with a delicious apple pie cupcake, as opposed to the ordinary talks. My mom's idea of my future (and probably my dad's too, since they think remarkably alike) is that I have three choices: financial whatever, engineer, or doctor. (Okay, so I could have expanded upon the "financial whatever," but then it wouldn't rhyme.)
She is leaning towards doctor. Something about stability and lack of need for aggression.
We are going to Starbucks tomorrow (did you know I have never been to Starbucks, ever?) and figuring out what the second floor will mean for awkwardness in terms of interviews (Ariadne said it was pretty awkward since no one else was talking). I think I will get a hot chocolate tomorrow. Or whatever looks good. Any recommendations?
Also, in light of all the issues going on (primarily mine, but also everyone else's), I have decided that I need to take on a more optimistic, plan-oriented way of approaching things. Of course, I know it's not going to work out that way (I should know, the last few times I tried planning something always just happened), but I am setting some basic guidelines and then letting things roam. I have a December plan (if it ever will happen, that is). And plans are at least something to go by, when everything else is just so chaotic.
. . .
Allie's All About Apathy (part III)
"You are Rena," he said, without any charm. Charm was not needed for those who were desperate enough to see him. "Changed, no doubt. How is the family?"
"Good," I replied. "Everyone who is alive is good."
"You mean yourself?"
So he knew. It should not have been surprising—after all, Allison Saint-Cross knew everything—but a part of me still wished he had not known, that I would be able to bring some shock into his hardened composure. I took his outstretched hand and allowed him to guide me inside the house out of habit. I knew the house better than he did, I had in owned this place with my childhood dreams. But habits, too ingrained in the mind, were hard to break.
"I thought I saw him the other day," he continued. "In a silver robe so characteristically his style. I thought, for once, I was wrong."
The unspoken words stung. Allison was never wrong. It could not have been Ciel. Ciel was—he was—I stared into Allison's eyes. "He came to you last, he must have wanted something from you."
"If he did, he did not tell me."
"Liar! You know very well what he wanted, you probably even gave it to him!"
"No," Allison said. "I meant, he did not come to see me. Not on that day."
"But he said he would," I said. "He told me that was where he was going. And everyone saw him in town, on Bayon Street, and everyone knows that if he was on Bayon Street then he must be—"
"Fate is here too, why don't you ask him?"
He was angry now. He had to be. Allison never mentioned Fate unless he was upset—he always preferred to ignore Fate's existence, as much as possible. I took my hand from his and leaned against the wall. "Fate. Is that why? Because you think Fate has to do with this?"
