School year is movin' along.

It is. The year is almost an eighth of the way over, now! Interims and all that. I've already rambled to everyone about my unexplainably good grades, but I've been posting 'em since I barely bailed myself out of Algebra last spring, so I shall continue the tradition. I don't have numbers for these grades because our interims only say letters, but that's okay.

English - A.
History - A.
Journalism - A.
Geometry - A. (I happen to know that I have a 99 percent in there because my teacher sent home more detailed interims by way of email. Me. Math. Ninety nine. Makes no sense, but I love it.)
French - A.
Biology - A- (Seriously?! I hate my teacher. I hated her before this, but I hate her more now.)
Gym - A.

So. Basically everything is fine, my parents aren't giving me any worried looks or whining about me slacking off. Which makes sense because I've been spending about five hours a day studying, doing homework, that sort of thing. I desperately want A's so that I can go to school in Washington when I graduate. If I don't get A's, it shall not happen, so therefore, I must get A's. It's a conditional statement thing! Sorta. My biology grade should be an A too. It would be an A if my teacher weren't a bitter old hag who takes out her passive agressive fury on a bunch of innocent freshmen every day. She gave me a C on this science fair packet because I 'didn't put metric units'. Yeah, um, I was listing the plants I intended to use. Can't really put units on that. Oh well, at least I'm not failing, even though I might not have anything close to an A after the unit test we just took. I studied so much for it, but macromolecules and atoms - which I'm learning for the second time, they still don't go into my head - do not stick for me. I'm definitely not a science person.

Enough about that, though. I don't really want to cultivate extreme hatred against a teacher the way I did against my english teacher last year. Too much work.

Last week, my mother, of all people, dragged me into getting a Facebook. For a long, long time, I was vehemently opposed to even thinking about it, but the ten demands a day of, 'do you have a Facebook yet?!' finally made me crack, and when I was weakened by... well, tiredness and stayed home from school last Friday, my mother almost singlehandedly created an account for me and promptly added herself to my friends list. I sort of got addicted for a couple of days, but it got old when I figured out that my friends don't actually have anything to say but that they found a pink cow in Farmville or whatever, and that they're bored. So spending hours a day on there isn't worth it, unless I'm attempting to stalk someone, which makes me feel stalkerish, so I had to stop that too. I wasn't successful, by the way. Searching through lists of eight hundred people has no effect. I hate that profiles are hidden. Makes it so much harder to do any proper stalking. That and I never learn people's last names. So I can't find the friends who actually ask me to find them on there, let alone people I spend time searching for even though I'd never friend them, due to me being me.

My father is a closet The Birthday Massacre fanboy. Actually, he's not really the closet part. Ever since I forced him to listen to my copy of 'Violet', he's been obsessed. He even tuned his keyboard to play one of their songs. We've listened to Violet in the car at least five times now, and he cranks it up louder than anything else he plays. So I ordered the 'Looking Glass' EP for him because his birthday is soonish and I had spare cash and I'm pretty sure he'll lemme listen to it. I love it when I've managed to brainwash my father into something. It's amusing, his ranting and raving about how insanely murderous their lyrics are becomes a sort of manifesto to their greatness halfway through. I don't love that many industrial bands, but they are great, yes.

This is short, but that's okay. Don't have much else to report in life, really.

Music lately has been much Green River. I ordered their album last week, along with Love Battery's Dayglo. Oh my goodness, Dayglo is an extremely amazing album, go out and buy it right now. Sleater Kinney too, I'm really liking One Beat right now. A little bit of Metric, and a couple of other obscure indie groups that my friend is brainwashing me daily to like, Smashing Pumpkins during lunch, which annoys my friends to no end because I space out to it and stop talking, L7 on the bus, Veruca Salt, some 10 Minute Warning. Mostly Love Battery. My devotion to this band goes to insane degrees, or so it would seem. I want to write a fan letter to Ron Nine, begging him to drag his band over here so they can play a show for me and the seven other Love Battery fans who probably live in Virginia. It'd be worth it for them, right?

That's about all, night for now.