*groans* Noooooooooo........


In other news, two more days until I get my computer, Hallelujah! Alice got hers yesterday, and you wouldn't believe it - the school has provided AP Elements FIVE and SIBELIUS FOUR. This strikes at the raw jealous fibres of my being: WHY DID YOU WAIT FOR US TO LEAVE BEFORE YOU JUST STARTED THROWING SIBELIUS AROUND, YOU BASTARDS?

Okay, people. How do you write a resume when there's nothing to put in it?

There's something very very wrong about that first one.

Give me virtual presents! Please?

( my xmas stockingCollapse )

Well, this is depressing. I do want to know how people went, but my mum has whats-his-name on the radio talking about VCE and it's making me feel kinda sick. YAY!

I <3 my new Christmas layout. I didn't realise I had quite that many tags, because I never look at them, but haha.

My dad took me laptop shopping on the weekend and this is the one. It's very nice, however it's no use to me at the moment because it's sitting in its box in the other room waiting to be wrapped and opened on Christmas day. Sense my enthusiasm. Growl.

SOME ONE SHUT ERNIE UP NOW.

Oh PS. Tomorrow I have both an admission interveiw for Trinity College and an audition for the College Choir. And tomorrow night is my dad's second work party so it'll be the second time in eight days that I've supervised small children while scuba diving. Hopefully these kids will be older than five and therefore able to pay attention to the safety regulations for more than five seconds.

IT'S BLOODY HAILING.

That's it, I'm moving to the Dandenongs :P


... 3 exams left...

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!–An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

-Wilfred Owen

{If anyone says iambic pentameter I will hit them}

In March 2004 I was rated by the BBC to be PG. Two and a half years later... ... ...It hasn't changed.

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Created by Bart King