I have issues with literature at the moment.

First off, I had a timed-writing test for The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn today, but a nice little thing called hunger kept me from concentrating. I know that I'll be recieving a decisively low score on that paper.

History essays? I'm not even touching those until the weekend.

At least I know that my writing skills are competent. My scores for the school district's writing proficiency test came back, and I scored perfectly for both essays. That's surprising, since writing isn't exactly my strong point.

I like math just a bit more. You have precision with math, you don't have to worry too much about composition.

All of my composition skills are best reserved for my artwork.

Speaking of, there's this nice competition for 17 and 18 year olds that I'll be entering pieces for. The lowest awarded (cash) prize is $1000, and if I win the Best of the Category (Visual Arts) I'll be pocketing $30000. Can't wait, but that means I have to make some more slides to submit. Blech.

I'm sorry, but Barto needs to stop reading Rand. It's not that he was an egocentric philosopher before reading The Fountainhead; it's that he now feels the need to be garrulous, much like Ms. Rand's writing, while executing a "moral" tirade. The boy just won't shut up. And it's rather irritating.
"Is it not enough that I exist? Does the statement of my being not prove my emotion? Is the awesomeness of my existence not proof of the greatness that resides in all men? Am I not? I am. That is all that one needs know - it is the truest, most powerful statement that one can make."
See? I hate it when people have to point out truths that are integral to the entire human race.

I must serve my penance. I think a week of fasting would suffice?

. . . . . posted:||9:57 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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