We found the perfect house! Well, two perfect houses that are both so perfect for us that we can’t decide. We could make a huge profit off one after fixing it up, but the other has a huge, beautiful .3 acre lot in the middle of the city, which is very rare. The fixer-upper (we’ll call this little doll of a house Glenmare, affectionately titled after the street it lies on) is big and has so much potential- and we’d be able to get it for a great price, and still have money for a new car and enough side cash so that we could fix it up beautifully and pop a hot tub in the back yard. The other house (we’ll call this one Hollywood for the same reason as previously stated) has a cute house with not as much potential, and a gorgeous back yard with large fruit trees, resembling the south. I don’t know! Which one? Which one?

Meh. I’m not too worried about it. We’ll pray and go wherever we’re impressed to go.

The end of school is approaching. In 6 days I will be graduated from high school. 6 days! Creepy, huh? I’m so very excited, and in all actuality, I don’t have that much more work to do. I have a history project and need to study for a final in trig, English, and physics, but after that I am finished Whoopee!

Speaking of English, a somewhat funny occurrence happened today. I shamefully turned in a scarlet letter essay a while back that was dreadful. This paper was absolutely appalling! Very appalling, like almost-didn’t-turn-it-in-and-receive-credit-so-that-I-might-save-my-dignity appalling. I procrastinated, okay! Leave me alone. Yes, I’ve killed myself in that past before, getting up at 3 and writing fantastic analytical pieces, but they don’t fool her at all. Not that my writing is fake, mind you, it’s simply beautiful, beautiful description that attempts to hide somewhat shaky foundations. The bottom of every essay has read the same thing since the beginning of the year: “you have talent, now harness it”, “this thought is too promising to be incomplete”, “true writing has no room for sloppiness”, “You have a way with words but first need to develop your stance on this” and so on and so forth. I’ve gotten no help. My work is still novice and deficient in some key places. She hasn’t directed me otherwise (granted, I haven’t gone in to see her about it, but shut up). So, I…er…didn’t do that with this particular essay. I broke; I was sick of putting forth so much and getting nothing in return. I simply pushed the time limit to hard this time. I got up at 2:30 the morning it was due and passed out on my keyboard after copying a particularly repulsive essay off of 123helpme.com. The thought still makes my head turn away, and a shamed yet amused smile fall upon my lips. For the final I went through and rewrote the basic thesis before reluctantly turning it in. When it was returned to me, I was surprised to see the comments that now graced the familiar font and paper before me: “What a rudimentary thesis”, “Not up to your usual standards”, “No flow at all”, “???”, “SEE ME”. The break in monotony is somewhat releasing, but this is disheartening all the same. I feel terrible about this, that I allowed Nathaniel Hawthorne, of all people, to rob me of my pride! I know this is not the case, I took my pride by the shirt collar and hurled it at Mr. Hawthorne.

I think I’m going to go talk to her about it, and plead insane indecisiveness. I had no choice but to procrastinate!