Snapshots of a Modest Life

Ah yes, back at the computer for the enth time this week, but this time it is again for ToK, and the writting of a long essay. If you're not aquainted with ToK you must think that we have a battle ax (or axe, whichever you prefer) of a teacher who makes us write endless words about knowledge, in which case you would be only partially correct. Mr. Boyte is a battle ax(e), but he doesn't give us 1000 words to write a week. I am in fact only editing my essay from last week, cause well, it gets sent off to some place called Carthage, Wales and gets read by some British guy (several actually), and is graded on it's merits and more likely, flaws (it is after all my paper). So the essay that is right now on my word processor can determine whether or not I graduate with the IB diploma. That's a wonderful thought isn't it. This particular 1200-something words could determine whether or not I have wasted the last 4 years of my life in IB or not. This isn't making me feel any better. Drat. Oh well, life's not perfect.

On a different note, I am really tired of school. It's just starting to wear on me. I need a very long vacation. (WARNING: FIERCE DIATRIBE ON THE INJUSTICES OF IB AND THE EXTENDED ESSAY IMMINENT!!!) As it happens, a long vacation is just around the corner, some 16 hours around the corner...yes, that few. However, my "vacation" won't be one. Next Friday I have to turn in the most important paper I have ever written in my WHOLE LIFE in to Mr. Boyte. Friday the 25 is a cursed day. Yes, that is the day my Extended Essay is due to Mr. Boyte. Which is why my "vacation" is really a non-vacation. I have to turn in a 4000 (yeah, you read that right, a four followed by three zeros, four thousand) word essay, which is even more important than the aforementioned ToK essay. Why? Because if I receive an ELEMENTARY on this essay I have absolutely NO CHANCE OF GRADUATING w/ and IB Diploma. Shoot me now please!!! On top of this essay I also have to visit FSU Friday. That means I get to spend 8 wonderful hours in the car with my parents listening to "Les Miserables" and Norah Jones (Les Mis and Norah are volentary, and I don't mind doing that) and working on homework (aren't vacations supposed to be relaxing?) or reading...or listening to them talk...about my life...and about how I'm going nowhere with it or some other bright and cheery topic. Ugh. I repeat. I hate school. And just wait till I get started on school dances, or more specifically, the search for a size 16-18 homecoming dress.

More to come....