School the horror that befall us all I hate it the only core subjects that are good are probably science and math, social is ok. Math in our class is actually fine our teacher will give us pretty ok stuff but maybe I'm just saying that because I get a lot of questions that the other grade nines don't. It is actually funny the way that not one person in our entire class could figure out this one really easy question. There are so many idiots in our school I mean some random kid in grade 8 asked if I was depressed just because my writing was really full of angst and it apparently made them sad, oh boohoo no one cares about some little sissy who can't take a little bit of sadness. There was also the aspect that every story I write usually has at least one descriptive bloody and gruesome death but hey if you can't take a little breath don't read it.
When I came home the first thing my mom did was say that I needed to try harder in school and become more interested in L.A. and social because I am apparently a great child who can do anything that she wants to because I'm smart. It's really funny when parents think that their child is perfect I mean that's describing so many parents. I know so many parents who think that their child is the best thing to walk on the earth and could never do anything wrong, (and they call us naive). My mom is a good mother and I don't hate her like how many of my friends hate their parents. It's really kinda cool because my mom and dad are divorced and my mom is so overprotective while my dad is not at all. If I want to I can go almost anywhere at any time he even lets me throw parties. The only rule that he has for parties is that I clean up the mess, it wouldn't even matter how many people were there. My dad also just goes with things like he will say to me that I'm at a stage in my life when I'd rather hang out with my friends then parents and parents are completely uncool and it's really good to have a parent like that. I didn't say anything in the least to provoke this either.
A really good poem by William Blake, it's called The Tiger.
THE TIGER
by: William Blake (1757-1827)
TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Current Mood:
predatory