I just realized that this research outline on T.S. Eliot I have to do by tomorrow is confusing me in addition to Diaryland. Will it remain undone [like a certain item of clothing that many people wear during cold weather]?
I want to apologize to anyone who reads this.
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Wait, here's something that happened at school today. In psychology, we've been taking about ten billion quizzes about ourselves (much like the online quizzes that I/you/others take) every class period starting a few weeks ago.
The first quiz for today was an ability-to-express-emotion one, so I was ready to rock a minimum score. I answered the ten questions, scored the answers, and got a 23 -- this was on a scale of 17 being the lowest and 104 being the highest (least to most able to express emotions).
"Ooooh!" I said to myself, and I actually raised my hand to tell the class my score. Others were getting anywhere from 96 to 43, so when I triumphantly announced *my* number, Mr _____ said, "Whoa! I knew you keep to yourself most of the time, but wow, Mika!" and I felt a pretty little glow of recognition, even though it was for something, er, really crappy. Then my friend said, "What! That's wrooong, I know what you feel!" I scrunched my nose and felt indignant, because this quiz used statements like "People think of you as an indifferent person" or "Others can usually tell how you are feeling", and OBVIOUSLY she did NOT get the point of the quiz. It's about expressing your emotions to other people -- only *you* can know how to answer the questions, right?
Then, a few minutes later, I realized I'd scored my quiz wrong. But a 36 was still lower than everyone else's, so there was some victory. Sort of. Not really.
Then, then we took a 'disgust scale' quiz, and talked about the following: 20-year-old males courting 80-year-old females; eating monkey meat; adult women having sex with their fathers; finding out your friend changes his/her underwear once a week; bestiality; and having to choose between an extremely bitter drink, a glass laced with arsenic, or a glass of water that previously had dog poop in it. I was just waiting for the principal to walk into the classroom, as he did that one time in psychology when we were talking about the situation of receiving a very sexy nude picture of someone you know. The dog shat glass (heh, like a Bostonian trying to say "shot glass") would have been better, though.