Today was not a day that should have existed. If the entirety of March 8, 2004, were banished from the space-time continuum, I would not be perturbed in the slightest.
I was frantically busy. It's the first day of the school year that all my teachers have decided to assign homework. Of Spanish, English, history, algebra, and physics, I only bothered to do Spanish and history. Oh, and band. Seriously--I even got band homework. Something is wrong with the world. I'll do English and physics during my independent study tomorrow; English will take about five minutes, and I just have to fake my way through the physics assignment. Algebra can wait...he never checks the homework anyway.
To make matters worse, I am swamped with paperwork for the goddamned PSAT. I use the term 'goddamned' because it turns out that since my guidance counselor didn't turn the forms in on time, my PSAT results don't actually count. I'm still in for the second round of testing, but I go as the dark horse. According to the NMSQT people, their records will not show that I ever took the PSAT. I guess I don't really lose anything. I've still got a chance at National Merit. But damn, it's frustrating when a 224 doesn't even count.
On a related note, I spent a good portion of my day filling out registration forms. There are six on my desk right now: ACT, SAT 1, SAT Subject Test: Writing, a waiver for the Heritage Music Festival (it's our band trip to Chicago), Girls' State, and the application for some namby-pamby geekfest science camp.
That's right, kids; I just might end up spending a week at science camp this summer. Apparently it's pretty competitive. Each school is only allowed to select one delegate from its highest-level science course, and only some of those kids are accepted. If I get rejected, oh, well. I mean...science camp.
As if I didn't have enough to do, for some inexplicable reason I decided to waste a bunch of time drawing a 24-panel cartoon. No dialogue, just a little story in pictures. It's about a little stick man who's sadly walking down the street one night. He sees a beautiful star, and he reaches up to try and touch it. He can't reach, so he finds a trash can and stands on that. He still can't reach the star, so he gets a stepladder. Even then, he can't reach high enough. He gets frustrated, kicks over the ladder, and pulls out a gun. He shoots the star, and is initially very satisfied with himself. Suddenly, the star starts to bleed. The star bleeds, and the little man starts to cry. However, because it's a star, it quickly heals itself, and the man is happy again. He leaves the star behind. The last panel is the star shining down upon the sidewalk.
I have no idea what possessed me to draw it, and I spent far too much time on it. It was very strange. I just divided the paper into panels and started drawing. I didn't have a plot set out when I started, and I found myself wondering what would happen next even as I continued to draw. The story wrote itself, which was a weird experience.
I don't know...I like it. It's sad. He's so upset, and he sees the one thing that can make him happy, and he can't have it. He gets so angry that he tries to kill his little bit of joy. At least there's a happy ending. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Sometimes I confuse myself.
I've been so busy I haven't even eaten supper. I think I'll go do that.
I was frantically busy. It's the first day of the school year that all my teachers have decided to assign homework. Of Spanish, English, history, algebra, and physics, I only bothered to do Spanish and history. Oh, and band. Seriously--I even got band homework. Something is wrong with the world. I'll do English and physics during my independent study tomorrow; English will take about five minutes, and I just have to fake my way through the physics assignment. Algebra can wait...he never checks the homework anyway.
To make matters worse, I am swamped with paperwork for the goddamned PSAT. I use the term 'goddamned' because it turns out that since my guidance counselor didn't turn the forms in on time, my PSAT results don't actually count. I'm still in for the second round of testing, but I go as the dark horse. According to the NMSQT people, their records will not show that I ever took the PSAT. I guess I don't really lose anything. I've still got a chance at National Merit. But damn, it's frustrating when a 224 doesn't even count.
On a related note, I spent a good portion of my day filling out registration forms. There are six on my desk right now: ACT, SAT 1, SAT Subject Test: Writing, a waiver for the Heritage Music Festival (it's our band trip to Chicago), Girls' State, and the application for some namby-pamby geekfest science camp.
That's right, kids; I just might end up spending a week at science camp this summer. Apparently it's pretty competitive. Each school is only allowed to select one delegate from its highest-level science course, and only some of those kids are accepted. If I get rejected, oh, well. I mean...science camp.
As if I didn't have enough to do, for some inexplicable reason I decided to waste a bunch of time drawing a 24-panel cartoon. No dialogue, just a little story in pictures. It's about a little stick man who's sadly walking down the street one night. He sees a beautiful star, and he reaches up to try and touch it. He can't reach, so he finds a trash can and stands on that. He still can't reach the star, so he gets a stepladder. Even then, he can't reach high enough. He gets frustrated, kicks over the ladder, and pulls out a gun. He shoots the star, and is initially very satisfied with himself. Suddenly, the star starts to bleed. The star bleeds, and the little man starts to cry. However, because it's a star, it quickly heals itself, and the man is happy again. He leaves the star behind. The last panel is the star shining down upon the sidewalk.
I have no idea what possessed me to draw it, and I spent far too much time on it. It was very strange. I just divided the paper into panels and started drawing. I didn't have a plot set out when I started, and I found myself wondering what would happen next even as I continued to draw. The story wrote itself, which was a weird experience.
I don't know...I like it. It's sad. He's so upset, and he sees the one thing that can make him happy, and he can't have it. He gets so angry that he tries to kill his little bit of joy. At least there's a happy ending. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Sometimes I confuse myself.
I've been so busy I haven't even eaten supper. I think I'll go do that.
posted by Allison at
9:48 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home