A bit of a catch-up post.

Since I haven’t posted for a week, I thought now would be a good time to post my general musings and anecdotes so you could catch up. In no particular order…

    • My life would make a pretty entertaining book. It would be a bit of a weird book, and nothing really exciting would happen… so I’m not really sure why I think this. It may be because real-life dialogue is the best type of dialogue (for instance, once I asked a friend, “Do you think in the future we’ll all use text speak?” and he replied with “Soz?”) or because there would be lots of three dimensional characters (but then that’s kind of obvious). Also because in the last year, the number of my embarrassing stories has trebled. I’m not joking. In the last two years, I have had more embarrassing stories than in the rest of my life.
    • While I have had more and more embarrassing moments, the ratio of my good jokes to my bad jokes has heavily increased on the bad joke side. I am slightly concerned I am on some sort of Truman Show where the environment is manipulated to make me do and say the most (unintentionally!) funny things.
    • On Tuesday I read out an extract of the poem ‘Yet All Things Must Die’ to the class, as part of a Speaking assessment. When I finished, I was met with a kind of hollow silence. This was really awkward, at least for me. I kind of realised my subject matter had been a bit heavy. I’ll put the extract of the poem I read at the end of the post.

      As soon as I sat down, someone said something along the lines of “Wait, let me just get back to self-harming myself…” The problem is I don’t really like poems about seaweed, so I’m naturally inclined to choose something a little more… interesting. That sounds super sadistic, but it’s true. The problem comes in that in the next lesson, I read an equally depressing poem about some town in Geography, which didn’t really help my problem. It’s fun to shake up people’s expectations, so I already know what poem I’ll be saying next time. Well, it’s not really  a poem, more of a song… but songs can be poems, right?

    • On Thursday, I took a painting that I’d done in school home for me to finish it off. I didn’t want to get it crumpled on the journey back, so when I went to lunch, instead of putting it in my bag, I put my coat over it, and then my bag on top to weigh it down. When I came back from lunch, I took my bag and my coat… but not the painting. This was probably the worst time ever to lose a piece of paper as it was a) super windy and b) raining heavily. I 0nly realised I’d left it in the open that night. I got so annoyed with myself. I prayed (because I am a Catholic :)) and then the next day I went to the art block. You would not believe my luck, but someone found it way away from where I left it, and then returned it to the art block. Me being religious, I like to say “Well I prayed!” because it was really lucky!
    • Although we have had a lot less homework this school year, we have so much more tests! It’s crazy I tell you! But I guess the two balance out.

    That’s pretty much it… I know it would have been best to do a separate post for each of these, but since I haven’t posted since Saturday, I thought this would be a bit of a cramming post. :P Tomorrow I do my first every Sunday OT post! This is because Sunday is a much more convenient time for me to post because there is always something happened on a Saturday.

    Also… eleven days to Christmas! *screams in joy*

    Joe.

    P.S. Here’s the extract I read to the class…

    Yet all things must die.
    The stream will cease to flow;
    The wind will cease to blow;
    The clouds will cease to fleet;
    The heart will cease to beat;
    For all things must die.
    All things must die.
    Spring will come never more.
    O, vanity!
    Death waits at the door.
    See! our friends are all forsaking
    The wine and the merrymaking.
    We are call’d–we must go.
    Laid low, very low,
    In the dark we must lie.
    The merry glees are still;
    The voice of the bird
    Shall no more be heard,
    Nor the wind on the hill.
    O, misery!
    Hark! death is calling
    While I speak to ye,
    The jaw is falling,
    The red cheek paling,
    The strong limbs failing;
    Ice with the warm blood mixing;
    The eyeballs fixing.
    Nine times goes the passing bell:
    Ye merry souls, farewell.

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