I seem to be a bit unaccessible this week, in the meaning that I don't hunt everyone down and talk to them as much. I'd like to attribute this to the slew of quizzes and tests that seem to have a taste for my blood last week, this week, and during next week too. I got an A on that last math test I was fretting about, but who knows how I did on that economics test I took this morning XD;... and I'm really trying to not think too much about the history quiz and test coming up, along with more math quizzes next week. If anyone would like to drop me a line, if my death is suspected, e-mail and cell phone will probably work XD;. Or a brick upside my head, which is what I'll truly be pining for ^o^.
In my last Creative Writing/Poetry class (on Thursday) we started workshopping our poems in alphabetical order... which always makes me the first lucky one to be subjected to the critiques of the masses (damn you, last name!). But it's over now, and I can watch my peers be the squirming ones XD;. I shall end this entry with the poem of mine that my class looked at, just because I kind of liked it in that ohgodmyeyesmyeyes! kind of way. Or actually, I just kind of liked it ^^;. The interpretations my classmates managed to come up with were varying and amusing at times too XD. No! It's not about sex, I swear it! ...or is it O.O? No, no, it's really not XD;.
Paper Airplanes
by Emily Adam
boys with rough hands
can fold paper airplanes
so delicately that no one
else but them knows what
perfect degree and angle
must be used for each
corner, point, and wing flap
and even though they all
have the same rough
hands, every formula for
every boy is different.
when i watch the airplane
fly, fly, fly, and nosedive
straight into the ground
before exploding in fire
or at least the nose is bent
irreparably, i can only think
about how i wish i could
have tried to fly like that.
i sit and hold delicately
my pretty little doll in my
clean, soft hands and can
only think of boys that
have rough hands.
