My last year of high school was a wake up year. The whole group of kids who had coasted through math mostly all flunked the first Calculus test (I think the teacher did that on purpose for exactly that reason). Our English class jumped right into James Joyce and had papers that could only be researched at a University library (where I discovered that most of the books on the poet I was doing a paper on were not in English), the Chemistry teacher (who had a PhD) held extra classes at his house becuase there was too much to cover in class, the Biology class required insane amounts of homework, and I was just glad I had a couple of normal classes. Plus I got my ass kicked in academic contests a few times. Then I went to college where almost everybody was top of their class. Any illusions of super-smartness were pretty well squished.

My google homepage word of the day. Ha!

Shiny!

I did fairly well in high school. Not hte first two years, but my jr and sr years. I was at a good school that was interesting. But because I was trying to make up for classes I failed I never did any of the harder classes. I was going to graduate without taking Algebra 1 and 2 and geometry. I had finished Algebra 1 my jr year, but hadn't done Algebra two and was put in geometry by my school. I went to the Adult continuing Ed center three times a week for Algebra 2.

I had Geometry last period, so I went straight to that into Algebra 2 and those classes were mostly self paced with out a lot of help. I don't remember what grades I ended up with, not As ,but Bs and Cs.

Emmett spoiler for Raq: He played cards with me tonight and used his Doc Holliday accent the whole game. Then he referred to his just finished sewing project as his "raging ball of fluff."

God DAMN it.

I HATE hating being in love.

Sorry if this is a tight-diamond-shoes complaint. I'm just not loving the experience of falling madly for somebody who will likely break up with me in the long run for reasons completely beyond my control. It makes the honeymoon period so bittersweet when, really, only the sweet should be there.

It makes the honeymoon period so bittersweet when, really, only the sweet should be there.

When I was 10 I used to feel this way about Whoppers. "Every bite takes me one step closer to being finished with this beautiful hamburger! I can't enjoy it because it's already slipping away!"

It was the opposite of zen.

It was the opposite of zen.

I am stealing this expression, and using it at every opportunity from now on. Many of which will likely be inappropriate.

Just so you know.

Emmett spoiler for Raq

Hee!!! Still my hero.

I am amused by the comparison of young love to Whoppers.

Why we are not like Other People: DH's cow-orker spotted his badge reel yesterday, which has a jolly roger on it, shook her head, and said, "That child doesn't stand a chance."

I don't even understand what a piratey badge reel has to do with Mallory's chances (for what?).

Chiming in on the homework thing, I want to say that in my case the great test scores that overshadowed the crappy homework combined with generally being well-behaved did me a disservice of life-altering proportions. Doing homework was painfully frustrating - it always felt like it took forever, and was rather like trying to work up the nerve to pull my own teeth with rusty pliers. It went best when there was enough pressure to bring on an adrenaline rush, so putting it off until the last possible moment was key to my strategy. The noise of the household was a problem, too. By fifth grade I was habitually waking up in the small hours of the morning to do it - and no, my parents did not bother to check that I had completed it, nor did they have any clue that the established environment of kids doing homework in the dining room while the tv blared in from the living room created havok in my brain.

To give my mother some credit, last year when I finally figured out I have AD/HD, she did not respond with "But you aren't hyper", like so many other people who knew me in school did.