"In a cavern, in a canyon..."

I am skiving off dance, reading fic and generally enjoying an hour of peace and quiet. I have been roped into helping Ella write U5W's assembly... as usual I am the narrator, and scriptwriter. How on earth do I manage to get myself into these things?
Anyway, I shall not post the entire script, as cucharita will be reading, but I have to think about it.

In the meantime, I have received feedback for Shattering Glass which has made me happy... less unhappy, anyway. I just don't do non-con. Not that it was non-con. At least not technically. Gah. I enjoyed it, though. Haven't done any angst, at least not proper angst, for a long time.

Becca is here, asking me to sing something so she can fill in the "Current music" field on her journal update. I obliged with "Clementine" because for some reason I was thinking of the other night when my family was watching Movie Tonight. She is now printing off the song lyrics to Beautiful, only she's printed it off about seven times. Oops.

English next, I need to get a signature. I am now going to talk to lilka.

Ruthless egotism

It's just after lunchtime at the university hospital in Indianapolis, Indiana. I only mention this because two of my favourite people, my aunt and uncle, are currently working there, and they both tend to sign on to Trillian after lunch. Anyway, I have just been informed my seven-year-old cousin Shivani is doing a project in school. I recently discovered that in America they don't tend to do history and geography as separate subjects. They do something else... social-something... anyway, as a part of her project, Shivani had to send a letter to family she had in another country.

My uncle's giving me a heads-up, to expect a letter from a class of Indiana first graders. I will have to reply, which I am actually quite looking forward to. I like Shivani in a disinterested way - that is, once I get over my dislike of children of all kinds, I like her. I have more of a relationship with her elder sister, thirteen-year-old Nupur, who is very unlike me. She's arty, dances and sings and plays the violin, wins talent contests, all that kind of thing. I asked once why all the American children I met seemed to be constantly doing things. They never just do nothing, they never go and just sit, or wander the streets in town, or whatever. They always go to places with the intention of doing something.

I think people round here grow up faster than American teenagers. It might be something to do with the fact they don't seem to drink, smoke, get stoned, or even rebel to the extent of wearing chains on their jeans, at least not when they're fifteen-going-on-sixteen.

Of course, I haven't seen a whole lot of America. To date, I've been to New York, Chicago, St Louis, Indianapolis, Las Vegas, Philadelphia, Orlando, Seattle, and Vancouver if it counts. So I may be generalising.

Whatever. The Americans were not supposed to be the point of this entry. My day was supposed to be the point. To begin with, this morning has convinced me that I might as well skive all my remaining dance lessons. There's no point in going, no-one even notices my absence.

After that... I began writing the assembly script, which Mrs Williams now has, no doubt to tell me I'm a controversial blasphemer and make me do it again like she did last year. And beyond that... I have been chasing signatures for my five A-level choices (reserve included). I got my English one - Mrs Enstone has written "(Enjoy it!)" next to her signature, which I thought was sweet - and I also got Mrs Williams'. She thought my choices were an odd mix, but she did say I'd find the course a good experience. After she said that, she signed in the wrong place and pencilled in an apology to whoever signs my form for Politics. This was just before I went to put my arms in up to the elbows into a tray of rapidly melting ice, trying to lower the temperature of a beaker of sodium thiosulphate and hydrochloric acid. Oh, the fun of it.

Talking of A-level choices, I got a signature from Mr Dunne for my reserve subject, Theatre Studies, but considering I only got 65% for the Drama mock I don't think I'll do well with that. That 65% is probably a C or a B. Yuk. Becca got an A*, and she's been sparkling the whole afternoon. I noticed it every so often - her eyes were lit up. Mr Dunne also told her she has natural comic timing and a flair for comedy in general, and he's a fan of hers. She was surprised. I wasn't.

She and I both talked our way out of doing any Classics this afternoon, and I noticed that even though Classics with Mr Hollinghurst is beyond boring, we do have beautiful surroundings. The sun was shining in the window beside me, and I was looking over the quad and saw it's really beautiful, when seen at the right time and under the right light. The buildings glow red in the sun, and you can see every tendril of the ivy crawling over them. Yes... enough frivolous description.

Ah - mufti tomorrow. Must find something to wear.

( Cut for ruthless egotism )

Chillies

I haven't been eating much lately. Drama and French conversation mean I have to eat sandwiches three times a week anyway, and I don't go in for lunch in a big way, I don't eat breakfast, and recently I haven't been eating in the evening, either. Part of it's just seasonal, I guess - I go through phases of eating next to nothing - but at least part of the mystery has been solved. My mother has opened a new packet of chillies, she says. Well, upon closer inspection, they seem to be twice as potent as the regular variety, and of course she's been throwing handfuls of them into everything as usual. I'm conditioned to be able to take a certain amount of jaal, but even I don't appreciate having everything twice as hot. This of course explains why I haven't been eating - I can't cope with the assault on my senses!