commotiocordis

A sort-of response to "An Issue in Sherlock That Annoys Me and Why", which is an essay about gifted persons and emotion, with specific reference to the eponymous character in the BBC drama "Sherlock".

This is mostly just YES THIS with a large dose of WOW MY CHILDHOOD LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT IT encased in a few giant, run-on paragraphs. 

Also, let me just get modesty and such out of the way: labeling yourself as intelligent is such a Not Done thing (made even worse by societal expectations of women, but that's another rant), and I hate comparing/being compared to other people because I will always zoom in on the way(s) that I fall short, so this entire thing is extremely uncomfortable to write.  But if I keep apologizing every time I refer to the fact that I consider myself part of this group of Super Screwed-Up Super Gifted Super Freaks, it will be even more uncomfortable to read.  So.  Blanket "blah blah, I don't mean that other people are dumb, blah blah my self-worth on good days approaches that of a rock covered in toothpaste blah blah".

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And okay, this has gotten too long and I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore because I'm kind of upset now, but blah.  There it is.  I'm not sure there's any meaning or even relevance in any of this wordvomit, but have some stories about me.

It feels like there's some kind of a three or six or someodd-week window (they always give the parents some amount of time that you're not supposed to visit your kids for that reason) where things are supposed to click and you're supposed to adjust to being away from home and I somehow missed it. It's not even like I was particularly close to my family in the first place; yeah, I love them and all, but I spent most of my time when I was at home in my room by myself. It kinda scares me, you know, in the ferocity of this. . . it's not homesickness, really, so much as it is hate-thereness, I think. I've got no idea. I can't articulate why I dislike it there so much (sure, I can bitch about whatever issue is currently pissing me off, but it's more a general loathing of the entire situation), but to sort of put things into perspective, I checked my Outlook calendar that I've got all my class times and everything typed into this afternoon and had a panic attack over the prospect of going back there. Not even just worked myself into one, which I'll do if I'm upset and let it compound, but it was sudden--there wasn't even a semi-conscious thought process of "Oh, man, schedule. I've got class on Monday. That means I've got to leave home. And go back to school. I hate school! *freaks*", it just hit--and it lasted a long time. And even after the actual attack was over, I was mentally shaky and feeling all self-destructive and bad.

So that's no fun. Break in general, though good at the beginning, got pretty not-enjoyable. As Dad got a call from bum Aunt Chris (re: bum--see the last time I made a post where things happened almost exactly like this) saying that Grandma had her second stroke this week (our reaction: OMGWTF THANKS FOR TELLING US AFTER #1) and somebody misrepresented/misunderstood/whatever the gravity of the situation (we sort of think that Chris needed a break from helping Grandma extra over the last few days when one of these last strokes mussed up her mobility, and she let Dad believe that things were really bad so he'd come down and help out. My opinion? You're living in your mother's house, driving her car, supplementing your measly sales income with her social security and your father's pension; bitchplease, shut up and help out your mother) and it essentially boiled down to Mom spending all of Friday writing out lesson plans for next week in case she had to get a sub for a funeral and Dad and Tyler leaving within about an hour of the initial phone call to go down there.

She's doing a lot better, Dad says--if I've said it once, I've said it a million times: if I inherit anything from this woman (besides, erm, breasticles), please let it be her stroke resiliency. I have no idea how many she's had, but she shuffles around for a bit (worse than usual--I think one of the early ones screwed her gait up, because she's shuffled more or less since I can remember noticing), has some short term memory loss (she loses a couple of days around the stroke that I'm not sure she ever gets back, and loses larger chunks of time/people transiently for a short period but does get that back), but that's it. You know, I think. It's hard to tell when I see her as rarely as I do what's stroke and what's just oldperson.

It was weird that afternoon. I was all lol!emotional vulnerability. I'm usually the stoic one in things like this (not even because I'm trying to or anything, just because I'm fairly cool with death), but was all . . . not. I think (self-psychoanalysis time!) I was picking up on the emotionally charged atmosphere with my dad freaking out (he really thought he needed to get down there quick until he called right before leaving to tell Chris that he was coming down and his mom answered the phone, LOL) plus my subconsciously being a selfish bitch pissed that my first visit home was getting screwed up by this by itself, and more so by Dad and Tyler leaving, plus the whole situation being reflective of how I've been more fearful lately because my dad's diabetes got bad (and by bad, I mean good--his doctor was happy with his control, but her happy meant he was having lows a lot more often. With diabetes, high kills your organs and you over time, lows kill you overnight, especially once you become less sensitive to them as everyone does; then it takes a glucose of say 40 to give you the shaky warning--or you lose the sick feeling altogether and skip straight to the disorientation, like Dad now does--that 70 once did, even though the setpoint of unconsciousness at 30 hasn't changed, you've just got less warning to do something about it) right before I left, and how I feel out of the loop of the whole family everything, and the fact that (as evidenced by the later-occurring/aforementioned panic attack) I seem to be an emotional wuss.

But yeah, he called and Grandma picked up, which surprised me because, you know, I sort of figure post stroke -> hospital. But then again, bumaunt earned the bum title from last stroke Grandma had last year when she didn't make her go to the hospital (Grandma didn't realize that there are things you can do for strokes now because I think her last one was a while back, so she just made an appointment with her GP for Monday morning), so perhaps not that surprising--I've yet to hear the medical story. From my side of the conversation (just listening to Dad talk to her), it sounded like she was doing pretty well. So then it became more of an "I have the weekend, if she's had two strokes in a week things can't be good no matter how well she bounces back, so I'd better go and be with her while she's still there mentally and before she doesn't bounce back as well one of these times", which I totally understand is still filled with that urgency for him--he's mentioned before that one of his biggest regrets about when his dad died is that he didn't get down there until after he was only in-and-out (and mostly out) mentally.

Dad's hoping to leave really early Sunday to get back around noon (yeah right, but hopefully) so we have a few hours to hang out before I've got to leave. Still not like I'd hoped--we were going to go fishing on Friday, and then he and mom had signed up for a canoe trip together all day Saturday, and I was supposed to be able to do about a bazillion things I'd planned and didn't get to because I've been feeling off.

Weekend update: Alexandria Edition

All this hooplah on Friday. Didn't do much else. Bummed around playing Sims: Castaway Stories (beat that in two days, somewhat disappointingly, and I'm not crazy about the gameplay for the open ended bit as it feels much more limited than the Life Stories one did), went to Sam's with Mom, exercised, had a nice feta, corn, roasted chicken, and Italian dressing salad for dinner (it's crazy--salad's all I eat at school, and yet throw in the chicken and the feta and the dressing, none of which are available there, and it's a totally different and significantly more delicious animal), did some more computer bumming, went to bed.

Saturday: was planning on getting up early to workout at 8, do the yoga class at the gym at 9 (as I've been paying them for several years for free group classes included, and when do they finally get classes at my location? About three weeks after I leave), and then leave at 10 to go see Obama at noon, followed by further shopping (the rest having been done with Mom Friday night) for the church family night chili dinner, which I'd then go down to around 4 to start stuff cooking (some eight pounds of pasta, mostly, as well as prepping plain spaghetti sauce and salad) for dinner at 6. The first two didn't happen because I was up until 5 or 6 playing around on the computer. The third didn't happen because I was getting ready to go and turned on the TV and heard that there were some thousands and thousands of people that had been down there waiting for hours already and the gates didn't even open for another 30 minutes, and that if I went, the time spent looking for somewhere to park (even in the closest Metro carpark; almost especially so, as it's the only one that even approaches the county, so it's always packed) would singlehandedly offset any benefit from Obama's energy plan. Went to the Jewish Community Center's costume sale instead, and picked up a bunch of stuff for Dad's classes for cheap. They had pretty much a whole set for doing Beauty and the Beast that I really wanted, but it wasn't exactly what he was looking for with his kids doing Shakespeare and all. Got a really nice dress, though, that I think is perfect for mideval stuff, as well as a flouncy underskirt that I'm saving for my colonial costume for taking Kaci to the Feast of the Hunter's Moon next year with the middle school Fiddlers.

Then I ran about shopping for church dinner food some more because the costuming took longer than I expected (I was looking for "the auditorium" instead of it being inside the auditorium inside the community center), and finally got back and did the food. Served the Catholics in my Obama t-shirt and got more pleasant comments than I expected, especially considering that it's almost always just old people that come to these things (which sucks, as it's family night and there's never really any family mingling because the old people all just stick together in the same groups and tend to exclude anybody that's not been in the church since before the last ice age--I mean, my parents have been going there since before I was born, and yet 90% of their conversations have to do with church stuff way before that). There were really no comments at all besides a handful of people asking if I went and a few that I knew--Rick, my volleyball boss and my friend Celeste's mom-- and one other random guy actually articulating support. Not even Father Jim had anything really to say save some remarks about how it seemed the entire city was there (but then again, I've been told he doesn't talk nearly as much anymore after he had a stroke a bit after I left, which sucks, both because I really like him and because he's always been v. v. softspoken and shy to begin with), which was a tad disappointing because I'd have loved to go three rounds on how the Catholic policy on birth control is an abject violation of their claim to honor and preserve the sanctity of life with somebody there.

Thing that made me angry: 8 people signed up to bring chili, 4 did because fail--even when my mom and the mother of a schoolmate of Kaci's brought some without having been included in the 8 count, we still ran out of all the "normal kinds" very quickly with only about a spoonful of ground turkey chili (that I think had been left for gone, but I managed to scrape it out because that was the one I wanted), and a little of each a v. hot white chili and a v. mild gluten-free chili left when the noodles line had finished and I got over there to see what was left, less than 20 minutes after mass ended. We had plenty of spaghetti and sauce left, though, so nobody totally missed out.

Then exercised, then hit up a couple of stores on the way home (the Farmer's Market because I wanted to check on pumpkin prices and because fruits/veggies yum, Big Lots because mom told me to grab some extension bar thing that I got the wrong one of--prolly because the best I can describe it as is "extension bar thing"--followed by Walgreens because I had thought that they had free after rebate stuff that I wanted, but it turns out that it was last month), then got mom to glob my hair up with henna while watching Andromeda dvds followed by the opening sketch of SNL (assuming Palin wasn't in any of the rest), then spent the last several hours (literally) writing this.

Whew. Caught up, more or less. Far more detail than anyone cares about, but ehh.

There's a list of things I want to do tomorrow, including going bowling, to this Natural Living Expo, carving a pumpkin, and tie-dying a shirt (all of which sound sort of random but are in fact quite easily possible), but I've got to leave before 7 and Kaci's got two soccer games tomorrow. After having (missing, actually, as nobody realized) one yesterday, because they're making up for the fact that they were rained out some 3 weeks already this season--I tell you, she got signed up for this city team rather than play with the school like she used to or the church like I used to, and they're a bunch of wusses. Both the city (not even our city, LOL, but one a bit farther West that we tend to mock a bit; I have no idea why that one, but somehow a bunch of her old teammates from the school team that didn't get going this year for whatever reason all went out there) and the school teams are, though the latter will at least play in the rain. I have pictures from when I played for the church of us playing in a freaking ice storm. (I assume--the playing happened, and pictures tended to happen, though I couldn't tell you where they'd be.) Us Catholic sports girls took our shit seriously.

Concluding thoughts (at least until I come up with more):
I'm almost painfully thirsty and have been for the last 500 words or so, but don't feel like getting out of bed until I'm done and am about to go to sleep.

The plastic wrap extension to my shower cap holding my henna'd hair in (too much hair, LOL, especially when thickened by goop) keeps sliding down and covering half of my eyes. I can't get it to stay up.

My laptop has another screen glitchy bit (this one's just a dark spot that looks like it's just a drop of scum on the screen until you get close and realize that it's underneath). I found out, though, that there's a place only about 20 minutes away from here that does warranty repair, so I won't even have to ship it in.
Best Buy was trying to tell me over the summer when I first asked that I had no warranty at all on this thing since I didn't buy theirs and had to give it to their Geek Squad to fix (which they couldn't do, as this is a manufacturer only replacement) for mucho dinero, the thieving arses.

I iz headached. Off and on the entire time I've been here. But my Springfieldhumidity-induced acne is almost totally gone after only two or so days. It's weird, considering that St. Louis is the place that people joke "It's not the heat, it's the humidity" about, because of all the rivers, not Springfield.

Speaking of weather, *temperaturegasm*. God, it's beautiful. You turn the air conditioning on in the car if the sun's shining on you, but I ran to get something out of the car around 10:15ish before SNL and was hustling because it was chilly and the grass was quite cold. It's camping weather--it might be a tad too cold to be really comfortable at night outside (at least for me, as I've got a very range of comfort I can fall asleep in--even if it's totally fine during the day, the same temperature at night and I'll be far too frozen to sleep), but it's the exact kind of crisp cool that would make sitting in front of a fire just amazing.

I'm falling asleep while I write this. Holy crap, I started typing this easily 2 hours ago. Nonstop typing, pretty much (at least for the last hour of it since I first really looked at the clock), not even the normal "type some, fool around playing a game/checking email/whatever, type some more, etc." thing.

I just had the really odd, random impulse to snog somebody. Really heartily. Leg-kicking, pulled off your feet type snog and accompanied by a bone-crushing embrace.

Idk where that came from. Angsty Remus/Sirius fic makes me want to kiss people. Nuts, I am.

Classes are winding to a close and I find myself quite miserable.

I haven't been able to turn in that history paper that I wasn't writing when I was sick because of my stupid teacher complex. It's worse this year than ever before; I'm simply incapable of turning things in late (even if it was because I was sick) because I hate drawing attention to myself in that way. And it screws me over something fierce; without this paper, I've got a C for semester at best. Turn it in, I might be able to pull a B. (And it's only not an A because I pulled the same shit the quarter before this one, was sick and never made up a couple of quizzes or turned in one assignment and ended up with a D for first quarter.)

And the problem's the worst with this one teacher. I don't know why. And I don't know what I'm going to do. I have to turn this paper in. But now I've let it get two weeks late, so it's even harder, you know? That's the problem with this weirdothing of mine. I make up some excuse to myself or conveniently forget for days and days and days, and it gets worse and worse because whatever was due/needed to be taken longer and longer ago.

I'm doing something I never do now, though, actually checking my grades on the online thing. I never do it because I just don't want to see, honestly, because I've totally fucked up my life this semester, and the few times I do look I tend to close the page wanting to die.

Yeah, right now it's a D- in history. I've got to fucking turn that thing in. But I can't exactly walk up there and go "Here, I know it's 2 weeks late but I've developed this gut-wrenching, paralyzing fear of talking to teachers and so in order to avoid all confrontation, I've simply not handed it in until now; even though every day when I walk through the door I plan to give it to you, I freak out or rationalize some excuse about why it's not a good day and end up just not being able to. But I'm actually doing it now, because I'm not fucking ending the year on such a horrible note, with me giving in to this stupid shyness shit I thought I beat back in elementary school. That and if I actually end up with a D on my report card for semester I think I probably will kill myself because as of right now I've not been seeing many reasons not to," because I'll either not do it at all or end up crying because I've been so miserable lately and I'm not going to fucking cry in front of my history teacher, because I know a lot of my problem with handing in things late is that it makes me look weak and leaves me vulnerable and stuff and crying will do both to a factor of 10.

And I just did the math and there's no way for me to pull a B in history at all. I thought the D from 3rd quarter was higher than it was, making it possible, but no. So I don't know what I'm going to do. I went from As in all but 2 classes first semester to maybe one A in the bunch, a bunch of Bs, and either a C or a D depending on whether I keep fucking myself up and hand in this bloody paper or not.

I know I've said this a bazillion times, but I've got the biggest feeling of desperation right now because I don't know what I'm going to do. I almost want to just ask somebody else to hand the paper in for me, or slip it in his desk or something, but I have a feeling that if I don't explain something that there's no chance I'll get any kind of credit for it. I wanted to talk to the counselor at school about it when I was in there on Thursday working on scheduling stuff but blaming it on there not being enough time, I fucking chickened out there too and didn't even mention it. I'll probably have to try to talk to her about it again, though, because I know with my mood right now that I'm going to end up crying when I'm trying to explain it, but at least with her there's the female factor so it's less intimidating (I seriously think the fact that he's a man has something to do with why it's worse with him than some of my other teachers. I don't understand why I've all of a sudden developed a man-complex, but I just realized that I pulled the same crap a few weeks ago and never made up a quiz for my Spanish teacher, who's also male, suggesting more than a little correlation there) and the fact that she already knows that I've been having problems this year and so maybe can help me talk to him and put in some kind of good word behind my back that will make him a little more amenable to giving me credit.

Yes. I've been stressing about exams and this and such, which I think has contributed both to my uber bad allergy attack these last few weeks (it's never been this bad in my entire life) and the severity of this hormonally-induced mood downswing (this version of the pill has done nothing for me-didn't fix the moods, didn't lessen the cramps, didn't shorten/lessen the actual period, nothing. I'm going to have to get switched pretty soon, as I think after 3 months I should be seeing something). And both of those have equaled me not studying for the big chemistry exam on Tuesday (meaning tomorrow, damn it), which have equaled more stress and miserableness in the big neverending cycle that I've acknowledged but not been able to break free from all year.

So if any of you have magic telepathic history teacher mind-bending grade-changing powers and would like to aim them my way, that'd be lovely. Otherwise, I've got to suck it up and go talk to him. Perhaps if I give him the paper and maybe ask him if I can take a final or something (as the class is exempt) to boost it a couple of points?

My left knee is still being horrid. Dumb bitch of a joint.

And I kinda feel like crap right now. Because my mum was yelling at my brother for schoolish stuff and I realized that what I'm doing is the exact same shit he's been doing for a long time, the not doing work stuff. I don't know why he doesn't do it, but the end result is the same. He's got tests he missed that he's never made up, so do I. He's got homework/assignments from January that he hasn't yet turned in. So do I. I wager the test thing is the same reason as me, the not wanting to go up to a teacher and ask. It's the same reason I'm going to end up not applying to this summer medical program--I can't muster up the fucking nerve to ask a teacher to write recommendations. I need to get over myself and suck it up and ask if I can still make some of this stuff up (because I think--that's a lie. I know-- that I missed another history quiz recently, I'm also missing a lab for chemistry and probably loads of other stuff that I actually have forgotten). And it's so late, and the teachers shouldn't let me make anything up, but I think they would if I explained my situation. Problem is, I can't handle that. I'm not good at telling people things, particularly people that can really influence my life. I feel that so many of the decisions I've made for myself in the past years, this year especially, were so unbelievably wrong that anything I do will just screw me over even more. Anyway. I've been being all depressive and miserable the last couple of days, so that's fun.

Mock trial is all drama-y and somewhat entertaining. I was sort of expecting this, but if there was one thing that could drive this big of a wedge between varsity and JV, it was regionals. Our entire team (meaning varsity) is pissed off at most of their team (meaning JV). Okay, mainly just one girl who seems to think that it's her divine right to go to regionals with us. Um, sorry. You didn't make it. She (and quite a few other people on her team, but she's the worst) got this inflated sense of their skill when they scored well in the first round. Well, they didn't in the second round, and all of a sudden they think the other team's cheating by switching up the people on their team so that they played the same part two rounds in a row, thus unfair advantage over those of us who had to switch. Okay, if they are, sure, that's unfair. Prove it. They haven't been able to. They didn't do as well, and yet members of their team are getting to go to one round of regionals at the expense of the members of our team who actually earned it. Does that really make sense? It's like "Oh, the varsity basketball team made it to the state competition! But, you know, the freshman team has been playing really well this year. Let's have some of the varsity people play only half the game and put the freshmen in there."

I don't know. I'm going both rounds for regionals, but I believe that I am one of only three who are. And the people on our team who only were able to go one round in prelim/normal competition don't get to move on at all. And instead, we get people such as the one I mentioned before, who, frankly, sucks. I feel like a bitch for complaining so much about her, but she does. She gets up there and the things she says aren't even in sentence form. I don't remember exactly what she said in her closing last round, but when I first heard it I just shook my head because the first thing out of her mouth was some kind of compound fragment. If, by some bizarre chance, she ends up assigned to do the closing for either regionals round, well, it's not happening. I don't care if I have to simply stand up faster than she does when the judge asks for closing arguments, she's not doing them. But I think it will be Ryan, so that's no problem. If it were simply a thing of she needed questions for examinations written for her, I'd be fine with that. I've done it before, I'll do it again. But she can't deliver them. She (and, sadly, most of the people on her team and one, though she's better than last year, on ours) can't diverge from planned questions once they're written. So, for example, if she asks question one, but the witness goes on and answers question two along with question one, she can't handle either skipping question two or, as the case may be, simply rephrasing it to ask about some little a bit in question two that the witness maybe didn't cover. They ask the question two anyway. Flexibility is the most important thing in these competitions. The ability to think on your feet, to rebut even when you weren't expecting the objection you just drew, you know?

I'm worried, I guess I mean. I don't care that we're not going to get anywhere beyond regionals, I never expected us to get this far. It was pure luck that we got put up against teams that were comparable to/worse than us in skill this year, more luck that the judges we got were ones whose scoring scale is towards the high side, etc. I just don't want to get up there, go against a really good team, and feel like we could have, should have done better. I don't want to be embarrassed by our new team, plain and simple.

Grr at fanfiction.net. I hate their dumb 150 favorite stories rule. I was just randomly surfing along and I found some really good stuff, but lo and behold, somehow I was already at 151 favorite stories. I had to go through and delete a bunch of them to put the new ones on. It's not horrible, because I record the title, author, summary, and link of the ones I delete, and they're mostly from fandoms that I'm not into anymore. But I got rid of about 20 or 25 of them last year and then during the great hard drive debacle of 2006, lost the file in which I had saved links to all the ones I took off. Which makes me sad, because though I'm taking off the ones that I'm not hugely into, I still will read them, flip through my list occasionally and find old stuff I haven't read in a while.

Yeah, this last entire section was pointless. Whatever. I haven't done any work; not the chem lab that I told myself I'd work on, not the activities listing/resume thing that I need to write up to give to the teachers that I need recommendations from (like that's ever going to happen), not my english homework (though I rarely ever do that), not the math review assignment (I feel even more like I have to do all the work now that I'm auditing it because I don't want to get yelled at if they think that I made the switch just so I didn't have to do any work) and I'm fucking fed up with this huge anxiety crap that I get whenever I even think about school/work/anything. I'm sabotaging myself and if I don't figure this out I'm going to end up ruining my life even more than I already have.

Hee, I've got my email set up now to deliver all lj comment notifications to a folder called "Unreplied LJ comments" so hopefully I won't lose them so much in my 300 someodd message strong inbox. I had tried to do that earlier, more than a year ago, but for some reason it didn't work. Of course, that doesn't mean that I'll find time to answer them, but still. Yay.

Must go to bed. I've got more things to talk about, but I've decided that as I've got to get up early enough tomorrow to take a shower (as I managed to completely forget tonight and my hair is scummy) and take all the trash to the curb for pickup (of which there is a lot because of continued room cleaning), I should probably endeavor to get more than three hours of sleep. Which will not happen unless I fall asleep within the next 20 minutes. Damn.

Oh. And since I actually played volleyball for two games in one match on Sunday (which was funfunfun)? My knees are purple. Badly so. Makes me laugh, because it's all *paleywhitepaleywhite-purplishbrownishyuck-paleywhitepaleywhite* Dumb annoying habit of diving for the ball even when there's no chance of reaching it in time. I realize that there's no chance, and yet I dive. Probably because I want to make it look like I tried to get it so people don't think I'm lazy. Even though there's no chance that anyone would have been able to get it in my position. This needing to please people thing, I dunno.

I had to make a tag for self-analysis. Because I have tags for everything else and I do that so often that it practically deserves its own LJ. Makes me smile, because I realize that most people probably don't spend as much time analyzing the motives behind every unconscious decision/action/thought/dream as I do. Dunno what that says about me.

Kicked that chemistry test's ass. As hoped. Needed a 63 or 65 or something to get an A, I got a 79. Wicked.

Only got 80% or so on the math test, which sucked. There's a very obvious difference between the first day of the test and the second on almost everybody's (mine's a 72 on day one and 87 on day two) because we all tried to do it for a really long time without the calculator before we all sort of picked our heads up at once and told the teacher that it was impossible. Which was entertaining, because it was like telepathy or something, it was literally everybody at the same time. So we only got the calculator for the last 10 minutes or so, which wasn't enough time. I stayed after for a few minutes to try and finish it, but I knew that I couldn't be late again or theatre teacher would have my ass, as I had been late the day before for another test also. So I sucked the first part up, as did everyone.

Was passing fics around today. Made me laugh. In math, I was reading a page and then passing it to Cy, who sits next to me. Through almost the whole story. Except I was missing a page, which saddened me. I had to just tell him what happened on that page. And Katie borrowed my other one to read during her math, which is same hour, different class. Yay for the sharing of the femslash love.

History teacher compounded review assignments, which made me scowl. He assigned one on Thursday due the coming up Thursday (that nobody worked on on Thursday because that was the day before part of our paper was due) and assigned another one today that's due at the end of class tomorrow. Grr. And I've got to revamp my summary of evidence because for some reason he still has a zero for me on that, which has me at like a D for quarter which is badbadbad, but due to my dumb thing, I don't want to give it to him and in doing so remind him that it's a zero. Even though I'm pretty sure I gave it to him way long ago, I might not have, and I don't like drawing attention to what could be my mistake.

So. Week before finals. Tis always a bitch. Got 5 hours of sleep total the week before finals last year. I don't remember if that was winter or spring finals, but I'm thinking spring. Luckily, though, the spanish, biology, and chemistry finals look to be (in order of mention) easy, ridiculously easy, and inconsequential this year. Math is going to suck, as it's 26% of our semester grade and won't bring me up really significantly, but has the power to pretty much fail me if I bomb it. History is going to suck because I don't know shit about it. As he hasn't taught shit about it. I was supposed to have a quiz today in that class--he replaced it with this dumb review assignment which I suppose is better, but annoying--and I realized last night that I had no idea what it was over. None whatsoever. I could not tell you anything we covered since the last quiz. Something about Canada. And John A. MacDonald. And Mounties. I remembered the Mounties. That was it. But then he had us read about Latin America in the book (which I couldn't find and must locate over break) and never talked about that at all, so I was worried that the Canadia stuff was in the last section and the Latin America was all that this quiz was over. Still don't know what it was supposed to be on. Though I really should be working on the dumb due-tomorrow review.

That's another thing. I've noticed that just this year, just these last few months, my procrastination has been taken to another level. It started with me doing things all the day before they were due. Okay. I'm cool with that. Then it became me doing them the night before they were due. Now it's more like me doing them at 4:30 the morning they're due. Or during classes before the class that it's due for, more likely. I've always done that, but it's become more and more, bigger things than just math homework or spanish pages.
And I'm pushing the turning things in late thing as far as it will go. It was a joke among my friends that they'd always say "Oh, Alexandria's not going to be at lunch Wednesday. We've got a paper due tomorrow," because I'd be writing the english papers at lunch. Not really writing, persay, but finishing, writing the last paragraphs or so. But still. I consider myself a master of estimating how long it will take me to do something and doing just enough of it to leave a manageable amount to do in the amount of time I had before class that day. Tis a skill. Don't know where I was originally going with this, so I'll stop.

Yahoo mail's been being a little whore for a week or so now. *pokes* Constantly it's giving me "cannot find server" and it's not my connection problem, as I've tried it at home and at school. And I refresh and it gives me error code 5. A lot. Quite often. Curses.

You know, this assignment wouldn't be that hard if he gave us the stuff we're supposed to compare/contrast with the few that he gave us. Like, the subject is social progress and we're given the 19th amendment for USA and have to fill in a similar event or thingie that compares or contrasts with that for each of Canada and Latin America from 1850-1920 and then define it and explain how it compares/contrasts. And there are 5 categories. Grr. If I could just come up with the stuff, it wouldn't be hard, but I've got no idea what Canada did regarding social progress. They're like us, only 50 years behind and boring. For example: we had a war over independence. Britain just didn't really want them any more and let them go. How lame is that. I would be insulted. It's like being the species that the borg doesn't want to assimilate. <- random Star Trek reference.