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It seems that I have sorely underestimated the sheer level of my separation from normal teenage culture.

The SATs were... strange. In a number of ways. One of the strange things was that I kind of enjoyed the experience -- getting up early, though contrary to my nature, tends to energise me? Maybe it's the morning shot of caffeine; although it is nice to get up and have so much day ahead of you. And the sunrise! The pale dawn with clouds blooming like roses over the highway! It's very lovely -- and strange, as I never see it. I get up before the sun for a) Christmas, and b) early-start roadtrips (on which I promptly return to my sleeping). And the SATs, I suppose. Dad was working in Brookville, so he dropped me at the high-school where the testing was being held. I'm always curious about public schools, because of course I've never really been to them -- a few times I've gone to pick someone up for something, I think? when I was little?, and I've been to a church or two held in schools, and the occasional event, and I spent one day shadowing the daughter of people I was staying with for one day of high-school, but otherwise, I know about public schools from books and films, sort of like romance, England, and the 1960s. The testing was in the cafeteria, half of which was very welcoming, because one whole wall was window, but the rest was utterly dreary, made of those ugly white plaster bricks that seem only to exist in public schools and dreary '60s and '70s churches. It was lovely to be able to look outside, though, even if it was only the parking lot and the highway and a few stragglinwg trees -- but sky, too! And natural light, which made up for the flourescent lights.

I had dressed partially for comfort, but mostly for confidence -- pretty clothes (and shoes with heels that go click) tend to make me feel a little more alert, sit up a little straighter, feel a little better about what I'm doing. And... when I wear my brightly-coloured cotton gypsy dress, with beads sewn to the front panel, and my striped stockings, and my sleek black granny boots, and my ankle-length orange sweater-coat, and my cameo necklace and peacock-feather earrings to work, or while wandering about downtown, I look a little eccentric, but not... wacky? I might stand out a bit, but not like... I don't know, a cat at the beach. But once in the high-school, surrounded by my age-mates, I discovered that not only was I the only girl wearing a skirt or dress at all, I was also the only girl not wearing a sweatshirt of some kind. I was also in the minority in having brushed my hair before coming, apparently. (I'm not even a morning person!) And then I felt really weird, because the sheer not-like-anybody-else-ness of my appearance must have made me seem very unapproachable, and that combined with my terminal shyness might have made people think I was a bit of a snob. I smiled at everybody, though! I like smiling at people! It's the bit where I make words with my mouth that I can't quite get right! (To quote Willow, "Usually I can make a few vowel sounds... and then I have to go away.")

(Seriously, though. I expected to see someone wearing something that wasn't depressing, unnattractive grunge-wear. Teenage girls are supposed to be obsessed with their appearances! It doesn't take long to put on something attractive! What about a cute t-shirt and jeans and a pair of Converses or pretty flats? I just... don't understand. Wouldn't you feel better and more confident if you presented yourself in an alert, attractive ways?)

And then to cement my status as Geeky Madwoman, I found that I sort of enjoyed the test. Sort of. There's something very pleasing and orderly about answering questions and putting pieces together and making everything right. The mathematics section wasn't quite so fun, but it was sort of satisfying, I suppose, although I skipped a lot of questions I couldn't answer -- in contrast, I didn't skip a single one of the English questions, finished every section with time to spare, and am ninety-eight percent certain that I answered everything correctly. (I'm not being cocky, either. They really weren't very difficult. And also enjoyable and relaxing. I wish I had a website of "choose the most fitting pair of words" problems, and "find the grammar mistake" problems; there's a nice steady rhythm, so it's relaxing and stimulating at the same time.)

The essay I am nervous about, but reasonably satisfied, given my track record with flash essays (which is not so great). I managed to cite about three things from my 'reading, experiences, studies, et cetera', and I think my position was reasonably supported and established, and I took perhaps a different angle on the prompt than a lot of other people might. 

It was four hours, and by the end I was very sore, and ravenous, but very awake (...well, I was then), and very intellectually stimulated; it was sort of like the mental equivalent of bicycling to work. Strenuous, but sharpening. I really wasn't expecting that. I also wasn't expecting my successful concentration; my mind rarely drifted very far when I was meant to be answering problems, and I was able to force myself to think things through that tend to make me panic. (I... forgot my calculator. But I managed surprisingly well without it, and am sort of pleased at my mental math abilities.) 

And then Mum came to collect me, with the entire set of siblings in tow, and we acquired KFC on the way home. And I rewarded myself with Dollhouse. A few hours later, sleep overwhelmed me rather abruptly.

Now to wait for scores. :/
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Plagues! [profile] lady_moriel beat me to it: I was going to post about the Children of Hurin book coming out next year, and was so muzzy-headed that it slipped my mind. So: *bounces around in a very undignified and fangirly manner* I'm actually quite surprised that no-one else on my f-list has mentioned it yet; but then again, I didn't know until Mum emailed me an article. This shows how horrifically out-of-the-loop I have fallen. Er. Anyway. I wonder how much chance there is of my library getting it in if I ask very nicely or bribe them with luscious baked goods? Scratch that: I will pre-order it from Amazon the moment it is available. *more fangirly squeeing* And, although this could be [profile] lady_moriel's fault (a lot of things are), that particuar cycle of the Silmarillion has always been a great favourite of mine, despite, or perhaps because of, the utter gloomy tragedy of it. Although I would like to hit Turin with something very, very large and heavy and possibly lumpy. Because he is so perceptive that it staggers me. :p

I began Latin today, and I think I like the blokes who write my books. I was panicking fantastically a little, until I actually started reading the material and laughing at the dry British phrasings, and sample sentences like 'Nasty Brutus kills nice Caesar'. Also, my obsessive studies of Sindarin and Quenya several years ago have made foreign grammar and things like cases and conjugation and declension infinitely easier to understand.

Also, happy birthday Hermione! (I'm sure it's still her birthday somewhere in the world.)
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I saw Padfoot again today, being walked by a large bloke with absolutely no hair at all by the large, tangley hill directly behind my house. He was sniffing something. Perhaps I dropped something? He's trying to find me, I know it. After he finds me, I haven't any idea what he wants to do, seeing as he can't speak while trapped in dog form, and I have no...anything. Especially not tickets to London. (Then again, if Remus lives in my closet...) 

And who's the bald bloke, and how does he play in? (He could be someone completely random that happened to pick a bedraggled-looking dog off the road, but that's not interesting enough!) Are there American Death Eaters? (Um. No.) Or has he noticed the dog's proficiency for crossword puzzles and is exploiting him at fairs and things?

Er. Yes. I have gone quite, quite far off the deep end. I am swimming in the middle of the ocean, practically. But this is the best. conspiracy. theory. ever. (And it wants to be fic. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet. *cowers* That, and Ted/Andromeda angst-fluff set to 'All You Need Is Love'. Which I have been humming all day.)

In other news, I have stripey stockings (green and black, and I only just realised what a Slytherin I must look--all in black, except for the stockings!), and the medallion from Pirates of the Caribbean, because I am a geeky fangirl. Soon, I will have black and white and red and white stripey stockings. I also bought an orange-green-yellow-brown plaid scarf that looks like a relic from the seventies (we've pictures of Dad in trousers just like it!), and I will pretend that it used to be Sirius'. Er. 

It is also very nippy and rainy today, and there are beginning to be great splotches of orange on some of the trees, and I have been alternating between Prisoner of Azkaban, Beowulf, and the first volume of Simon Schama's History of Britain all day, which has made for a pretty cheery day.
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Yes, well, I am back, and not dead. Exactly. Er. Probably mostly, because I am being Suffocated By Boxes in an extremely undramatic manner. They are taking over the house. Which is in its own way a good sort of thing, as we are supposed to be out of said house by the end of the month, which is in a week and a half or so, but--aiee. It is beginning to be Mad

Had a splendid time at Hickory Fest. Have blisters. Got wet. Have new silk handkerchief-hem skirt. Dislike rednecks much more profoundly than ususal, as there was rather a profusion of noisy drunken ones about. (Am also once again Frustrated With My Generation. And 'frustrated' is entirely too light a word.) 

Um.

(Something profound, something profound...)

Argh.

I just realised that school starts in about two weeks. ARGH. (If it weren't for Mathematics and Chemistry, this would be mostly all right, because zomg, I am studying British history and literature; what could possibly be better than that? However, I don't much fancy having my skin fall off due to third-degree acid burns. Oh, yeah, and there are Essays. Essays are the Bane of My Existence, because I can't say anything concisely and make sense at the same time. *whimpers*)

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Am back, and tireder than I can remember being. Blimey, am I ever tired. I think I may have had four or five hours of sleep today, and that counts sleeping on the aeroplane and the car from Pittsburgh to my town. (Yes, I just typed 'aeroplane'. Deal with it.) I smell of sweat and sunscreen, and I have more songs stuck in my head than usual, thanks to my darlingest [personal profile] timetakestime, who burned me a travel mix and an album by the Like; I have yet to listen to the latter because I need uninterrupted quiet to do so. She is absolutely the spiffingest. She let me listen to her iPod and gave me T.S. Eliot for my birthday and was very, very snarky in a charming sort of way (rather, the charm belied Teh Ebilness). And she is shorter than me. HAHAHAHA. (I thought I remembered she had said she was taller, but this may have been two or three years ago and I may have grown since then, or possbly she has Shrunk, which sounds awkward, but sometimes laundry detergent does funny things to you if you don't wash your clothes properly; Frondo told me this.)

I have returned home to the Strange Relations, but they are now gone, and I am exhausted (yes, again), and I want to listen to my music and sleeeeep, and then try to sort my thoughts into some kind of vague coherency, which will probably never happen, especially if my sentences keep going on and on and on like periods were suddenly wiped off of the earth by a giant eraser and we are all doomed to have our sentences trail on and on and on into the sunset and who knows where else and yes this is the way I get when I'm sleepy and that includes the no punctuation part and I really wanted to hyphenate that but I didn't because I am too sleepy for hyphens. I had a cinnamon roll this morning.

Also: Eisley's new video for 'Memories'? Abso-bloody-lutely brilliant. Everything an Eisley video should be and hasn't been until now. Ohmysweetword. Shiny. *is still a cinematography geek like whoa* Yeah, they finally got the whimsical video to match the song, and I Am In Love. 

And I read The Importance of Being Earnest on the plane for the umpteenth time, and one of my British history books is in and my Latin course is in and if it weren't for Mathemetics and Chemistry I would totally start school right now on my own iniciative, a word which it is too late at night for me to spell. (Actually, it is only about ten thirty, but as I said, I have had about five hours of sleep, at the most.) Next year will be better, because although I will have to study American Government rather than history, which I am not exactly ecstatic about, I will also Never Have To Do Lab Science Again. Ever. Which means--psycology! HAHAHA. Er. I mean--something very, very innocent, benign, and unthreatening, and ohmyword, I think I have an internet high; I should go to bed with books and NO ONE MAKING SLEEP NOISES IN THE ROOM and not having to wake up early after having worked hard half the day and gone to bed late. I am probably terrifying everyone badly right now. I SHOULD GO TO BED AND LEAVE HARRY'S CAPSLOCK ALONE.

BEFORE SOMEONE HAS TO DRAG ME.

!!!!!!!!

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