Okay, so the news. Hmmm. Blank.
Wait! I know! Guess what I got on my first English paper?
No, just guess.
Whatever you just said? Wrong.
I got a 60. As one friend said when I told her that,
"You mean...out of sixty?"
No, no I do not.
I mean out of ONE HUNDRED.
Naturally, my first reaction was that all that stuff in my head like my brain and cerebral cortex and sinuses and even that tiny, sweaty exhausted hamster up there wearing a pink tiara and racing endlessly on a rhinestone studded exercise wheel? All that immediately melted into what felt like a big vat of boiling MacDonald's french fry grease. (And I know of whence I speak. MacD's grease is HOT.) It boiled around up there for, oh I don't know, about a minute or two. Until tiny wisps of smoke began to leak out each ear, certainly.
But then? Come to think of it, all of a sudden, then I realized the whole situation was actually sort of funny. (Refer to the "this blog is written on a college level" button at the bottom left of this page for additional yuks.)
Ironically, earlier on the very same day I learned of my "60%" fate, I had spoken to, let's just call it a kind of major publication in the area about their interest in me for a possible regular writing assignment. Yesterday, I learned a grant application I had written on behalf of my employer to the National Parks Service had been funded. As you may or may not know, I write a short piece for the local newspaper each week. My work sometimes appears here.
Clearly? These people should be notified of my inability to write.
Anyway, the good news is that no paper is ever final in my English class. You can keep doing paper(s) over until they are finally met with approval. Much like life. My own offending paper was quickly re-written and resubmitted.
We'll see what happens. Maybe, somehow, I can ultimately rise to a "C"-level.
A girl can dream.