...to writing moody, angst-ridden song lyrics on here a couple of days ago. The School Situaiton had not been going well. Public Relations was full, leaving me with a huge gap in my schedule and only nine credits, which is completely unacceptable. And I was not happy about this, as it would leave me having to either take a class at the other, not-so-pretty school near me or do something at home, which doesn't really work for me because I have little to no self motivation. And whatever self motivation I may have had in the morning quickly evaporates after spending hours sitting in a classroom. I suck. And school problems, more so than others, have a tendency to make me depressed. Hence the moody song lyrics.
But it worked out. I talked to my advisor again, and there are three more classes that are open, all of which look semi- to really-interesting and fit my schedule. Plus, she said to wait until next week because the school would probably allow more people into the class if it was that full. So I may actually get my first choice! Yay! Depression avoided and nobody has to read italicized Coldplay lyrics. Everybody's happy!
So yeah, not much else is going on. My mom woke me up early this morning as she and my sister were leaving the house and said that my brother's friend was coming over and the house was a mess and could I please help her out and clean it??? I didn't really mind, because I was going to do it anyway, because nobody else will and she can't move. But I didn't know when she was coming home with the kids, so I decided to clean first and then get dressed. And with only one person cleaning, although my little brother helped a little bit, it took a really long time. The kitchen alone (I had to do the floor and everything) was like forty minutes. So I was running around in my pajamas for an hour and a half cleaning. Not fun. I even still had my glasses on, which is longer than I've worn them since 2002! But yeah, the house it clean now, which is nice. I really do hate living in a dirty house (not that ours is dirty, but with a twelve-year-old who is obsessed with things with little parts, it can become a little bit cluttered). I finished just in time, too, as I was just getting dressed as they pulled in the driveway. Success!!! This is a good thing, because now I don't have to do the whole thing tomorrow while my mom is at the chiropractor! Boy, I'm boring!
Oh, oh, I finished a super amazing fantastic book yesterday called "Alexandra: The Last Tsarina" by Carolly Erickson. SOOOOO good!!! I'm a sucker for all things Russian (don't know why- I'm not Russian, nor do I like anyone who is, which accounts for my interest in Great Britain, Australia, and Scotland.), and I love the whole Romanov story thing. Ever since I read that little Royal Diary of Anastasia a long time ago when I was little. Although I never believed that she escaped. It was just too improbable, even to my ten-year-old mind, that a seventeen-year-old could have possibly escaped from a room where she was being shot at point blank and that her would-be executioners would just let the fact that they were missing a body pass. It wouldn't have worked. I think Anna Anderson was a money-hungry crazy.
It always puzzled me why nobody made a big deal about Alexei being alive. He was the heir- he would have had a better claim to the "fortune" that they supposedly left than one of the Grand Duchesses. And his body was definately gone- nobody is even sure if it was the body of Anastasia or Marie that's missing. Thanks to that handy little Y chromosome, they know he's gone. I guess it's because everybody loves a princess story. And she had the prettiest name of the four girls. Olga? Come on. What were you thinking when you named that one, Alex? Huh?
But yeah, it was really interesting to read about how the monarchy really lost it's edge, mainly because Alexandra was being picked on so much she had to turn to less-than-reputable help, usually in the form of her little friend, Grigory Rasputin. An ugly dude who has no good qualities other than some casting director looked upon his memory kindly and cast my beloved Alan Rickman in his role in the 1996 HBO movie. (Which somebody checked out the library. It must be a fellow Rickmaniac, because I cannot possibly think of another person who would want to watch that *rolls eyes*.)
One last thing, I've been trying to get my TV blog to show my last post, but it's working, despite the fact that I wrote it on Saturday. Right now you have to click on a specific month before it will let you select August, but I'm trying to fix it. Let me know if you have any problems. Ciao!!!
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