Although the saying exists that no news is good news, I think I really am justified in saying that I can add to the pool of delightful dispatch without silencing my tongue. You see, I've heard back from another university, and it's another acceptance letter! I'm so happy. I mean, it's all well and good to be accepted one place, but what if they decide to defer you? You would be up the proverbial creek without even so much as a Raft of Medusa. So now I have something to fall back on, even if Ohio State sees my B+ in Gov (for which I will disparage myself forever) and decides I am not worthy to be a true Buckeye. And I have a choice now, too, I mean, I've always wanted to have the pretty problem of deciding which school to attend. It's so academic and all. Now I can finally be on equal footing with the Erasmuses and Aquinases of the modern world! I have only one problem. The university I heard back from was no USC, nor was it UCLA nor even Brandeis. Nope, the school that might potentially be fortunate enough to have me as a student is none other than the University of Kentucky, Lexington KY, otherwise known as the Big Blue Nation.
Yup. That's the one.
Well, you know, a school's a school, though. I'm not ungrateful. In fact, I'm quite the opposite (if that makes any sense). I feel like I owe them a debt of gratitude for accepting me, and I shall only be able to assuage the feeling of duty in my soul by going over to the admissions office and saving everyone from a raging bear or something. That's something Durko would do, no? And as we all know, Durko is but an expression of my true self. But that brings up another pertinent query. Would Durko go to college? He might not. After all, he lives out in the wilds of the land and lives by his wits and skills alone. He is like a more surly version of Aragorn (though he doesn't become king in the end). So maybe education would be too eggheaded a concept for him. But then again, Durko is filled with a deep sensibility and knowledge of the arts (else he couldn't dolorously croon Wagner operas to himself), so maybe he is a learned fellow after all. One never knows, does one? Poor Durko.
I read the most beautiful essay in the world in Lit today. It's so beautiful that I tracked it down on the AP website so I could have the pleasure of reading it again. Just to provide evidence for the verity of my nerd-love, I will risk copyright infringement and put the link here. I might want to read it again sometime, after all.
http://apcentral.collegeboard.com/apc/public/repository/ap03_english_lit_q2_28067.pdf
There we go. I wish I could write like this, yes indeed I do! This person, wherever he is (or she, I suppose, but let us be grammatical here), must be enjoying a career of the greatest brilliance and magnitude. I want to meet this prolix genius and adopt him as my mentor. Maybe I could write such beautiful prose that everyone would be in awe and I could pen my way to the Supreme Court without having to bribe any congressmen. I mean, let's be real here, anyone who has such a way with words is capable of accomplishing whatever he wants. If, as an eighteen year old high school senior, and in the thirty-five minutes allotted in the AP exam, he can create such a masterpiece, what couldn't he do now? I reiterate- this fellow must be so covered in glory he would put a Romanticist to shame.
I went to the Olive Market today with Dad (after school). It's such a quaint, kitschy little place! Just like a hobbit hole, only for commercial purposes. Our economy mustn't be too bad if we can support such establishments. Right? Anyway, I got this flourless brownie that was so adorable I almost didn't want to eat it. But, you know, it was chocolate, and it was there, so I did. Abstemious I am not. Dad got this bilious-looking scone that was shaped like hemoglobin and looked more unappetizing than an English dinner, but was so happy with it that I didn't have the heart to express my opinions. He thought that its psychedelic appearance would give him a more "uplifting" experience in eating it. Perhaps it did; I am not one to judge. All I know is that I am in no hurry to test out its effects on my own.
Kitty and I met up at lunch today and bought each other valentines (which are delivered in class on Valentine's Day). Maybe it is a bit sad and pathetic of us, but we were determined not to be the lonely-looking loners on campus this year. I mean, even if you feel the most debilitating verisimilitude to Alfonso Durpenhogen, there is no reason everyone else should perceive it. And, you know, it's not like either of us are really forever alone either. Kitty has at least two guys chasing after her (one of whom asked her out a couple weeks ago and was not at all deterred when she vehemently told him no and ran away), and I could be the coy mistress for Francisco or James any old time I felt like it. So it's not that we are alone out of necessity; we are alone out of choice. After all, man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward, and people live and die truly alone, so why should we not reflect the truth in our lives? Or, you know, something. I am no philosopher. But hopefully, this year I can hearken back to when I was a sophomore and got fifteen valentines (or so), and all will be rapturous and delightful. Those were my glory days, yes they were! Oh, life. Maybe someday I will look favorably on love, but until I meet a Sydney Carton of my own, this is not that day.
I think I'm going to go to Market Night and get tamales. I love them so, and as it so happens, we're having a fundraiser for choir so that half the profit of each baked bundle of bliss we buy goes to our tour. I wouldn't ordinarily let such things as school spirit and pride bother me, but you see, this helps me go on tour and bring the gospel of choral music to the poor folks in San Francisco and give the group a sense of togetherness and you know, I just want tamales.
I eat a lot. How am I still so small? Ah well. Such is life, and I'm not complaining.
I need to do some stuff, y'all. Gotta do it. But I don't want to. Man, why is life such a vale of tears? Wellp, time to get off my butt. After all, when the journey's over, there'll be time enough to sleep. Bye now!
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