May 11th, 2001

k00kaburra.

U.S. History - A.P. Exam

I had the U.S. History exam today, and it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. That's a good thing, because I haven't been that tired since...EVER. No sleep the night before, you know?
Anyway, the multiple choice was really easy, 80 questions in 55 minutes. That's more than 30 seconds on each question - plenty of time! So I wasn't worried about that part at all. I didn't leave a single space blank, even though I knew nothing about Nixon or Reagen and I *didn't* want to know about Bush, round one or two.
The DBQ was also really easy, about Eisenhower's effectiveness in wiping out the paranoia about the Cold War. I think I did okay, maybe even really good on that essay.
The second essay I wrote, on slavery, I think I also did very well on. How could you not? Slavery's such an easy topic. In fact, it was pretty much the focus on this year's exam.
The third and final essay, which was about transportation and how it affected the economy in the late 19th centuray, was tougher, even though we'd had a similar essay in class. Since I hadn't written that topic (I chose another one) I sort of faked it. But I think that'll be alright, especially when averaged with the scores.
It was a wonderful challenge, and I enjoyed all of it except the fact that I had to sit still for so long.

*****

As if to prove the wonderful contrast between using one's intellect to throwing it in the trash, we watched Dumb & Dumber third period. This is not a movie to watch when eating pizza. This is not a movie to watch, period. It's asinine. It's pointless. It shows just why our society is as pathetic as it is. One of the girls in our class said, "Oh, this is the best movie EVER." I looked at her and thought, And what the heck do you watch the rest of the time to compare this to?
I think that girl, Cindi, gets to be my first guest to an opera or ballet or a CULTURAL event. She needs it.

*****

Oh, did I tell you? Daddy's getting extra tickets to ballet and opera next year, so I can always have a friend with me. So that I can teach you people a thing or two about culture. There's a performance of Madame Butterfly, and one of the ballets is The Red Shoes. Don't you feel lucky?
Any volunteers?
Anyone?
.
.
.
Oh, go back to watching Dumb & Dumber, There's Something About Mary, American Pie, and all your other junk.
  • Current Mood
    relieved relieved
k00kaburra.

Dreamer's Terror

I don't dream often, and when I do it's either beautiful or horrible. Like last night.

I stand at the bus stop in front of my school, watching the cars go by and listening to them whiz. Whoosh. Whee. My brother's standing two, maybe three feet away.
Suddenly, two white cars, speeding like a maniac, come hurtling down the street, Meridian. Suddenly, one is on top of the other, rolling and hurtling together and summersaulting and cartwheeling...the cars are squishing together, destroying the drivers but...there's no sound. No squealing tires, no breaking glass...no screams...nothing. Not a sound. I can see into the cars, the passengers - they're floating in midair! The cars are whirling so fast that they are caught in equilibrium, not moving in any direction. It lasts for only the shortest moments, and then they're crushed. Smashed. But I can no longer see them.
The cars finally stop when they collide with a lamp post. It's a relief - sorta. They've stopped moving. There still isn't a single noise. I turn to my brother. "Hurry, over there! Help them!" He nods, and takes off. I turn back to the school, and start running.
I run into the office and take the phone. There's a piece of paper that says just what to say in an emergency. I follow the formula when the phone is picked up at 911. "Help! On the corner of Branham and Meridian, in San Jose, there's been a major car accident! I...I think there are critical injuries...No, I haven't seen the wreck up close...great, great...No, I don't want your recipes for cooking enchiladas! What kind of hospital is this?" I slam the phone down, and step outside. I don't go out to the wreck. Instead, I walk home.

I saw the faces of the victims so clearly, yet I can't identify them. They were hispanic, my age. But that's all.
Bummer.
  • Current Mood
    quixotic quixotic