I have no rehearsal tonight, and this fact makes me as happy as a clam in jam. Oh, brb, the rap part in this song came on, and I have to rap it. Ok, there we go. Anyway, as I was saying, usually I have to go to choir rehearsal on Tuesday evenings so that we can learn our music (since in class, we mostly seem to have parties). But tonight, there is a sectional for some people, and the rest of us don't need to go. Little things like this are the things that make life great.
I've just come home ("just" being a relative term here) from studying at Starbucks with Allie for our Art History test on Friday. Doesn't that sound classy? Like, oh, nbd, just reviewing Palladian influences on French classical architecture, you know, that sort of thing. Incidentally, French classical architecture is almost entirely Palladian. Just thought you should know. Speaking of architecture, there is this one Renaissance man (Baroque, really) named Borromini, and every blessed time I hear his name, I think of Boromir. What if I put that on an FRQ or something? That would be terrible! I would get a one for sure. Because, you know, one does not simply allude to the wrong things on an AP exam. Zing! I bet we're going to get more of these confusingly named people too; maybe we'll have some modern artist named Gollum-o, and a Romanticist named Sam McFrodo, and so on. Eventually, it will get so that I can't get two feet without seeing one of them. This is the future, and we must accept it. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. So, this unit is on the Italian Renaissance, with Mannerism, Baroque, and Rococo tied in. It's a huge amount of stuff, and I don't see how I'm going to differentiate between Mantegna and Parmiagianino (hideously misspelled, I think), let alone describe the focal points of each of their pieces and the symbolism that lies within without resorting to some kind of Faustian pact with the magical fairies of knowledge. I mean, I had trouble with Romanesque vs early Christian cathedrals, for crying out loud. Maybe I should drop out and become a stripper. Ooh, but you know what, I can't. I was actually pondering this today, as I climbed the steps to the English building (because my thoughts are always elevated and edifying), and I realized that due to the extensive background checks enacted by Congress, as a future Supreme Court justice, I must comport myself with the blamelessness of Sonia Marmeladov's heart and soul (though not her actual behavior). I must always be aboveboard and have nothing even resembling a scandal, or the Senate Judiciary Committee will have my head on a platter. Oh, eff! And stripping is such a lucrative business too! What am I to do? Now I have to get an actual job to put myself through law school. Maybe I can become a garbage collector or something. Or maybe I can be like Quentin Daniels and find a rich industrialist to work for. Unfortunately, I have no technical skill or know-how, so I couldn't reconstruct a miracle-working motor, but maybe I could translate some documents for him or something. Or I could be his non-corrupt Washington man. They all need them, right? And if he had a good one, who would stick up for his principles, then I think that would be something he would appreciate. The only problem is that I would probably get shot, and then where would I be? In the grave, that's where I'd be, and ain't no good anyone can do a body from there! So sadly, I think I must strive to find myself some honest labor. Ah, well. There is nothing bad or good but thinking makes it so.
You know, if anyone actually read this blog, I think they would be as confused as an Australian polar bear because of all the random allusions I put in here. In fact, pretty much the only person who could grasp everything I'm saying is me. Which is, you know, acceptable, seeing as I'm the only one on here and all. But this all goes to show that I should never be a writer of any kind. Ah well, someone has to put the "ass" in "aspirations." (That made no sense whatsoever)
Now, though abruptness is one virtue I don't recognize as so, Dad is home, and I must go. (That was a beautiful poem) So, goodbye, love, and remember that some divinity shapes our ends. (Ugh, more Hamlet, I am so ashamed of myself)
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