I ♥ Lists

I want to...

• Beat my record for the Advanced level on Minesweeper (currently 244 seconds)
• Finish writing the three-part short story I started on Saturday (that I may decide to post either on here or on fictionpress).
• Continue experimenting with writing a story in script style.
  

I need to...

• Learn how to use the new washing machine/dryer before my mother leaves tonight
• Start taking notes on Hamlet
• Finish homework for AP Stats
• Study for the AP Stats test tomorrow
• Do the Imaginez exercises online
• Type up the French recipes and compositions
• Work on my Bach English Suite (specifically the Courante and the Gigue)
• Spend at least an hour on both Clementi etudes
• Finish UC essays
• Pick up Senior Project research books from the library
• Brainstorm how the hell I'm going to pull myself up to an A in AP Lit
• Clean up my room
• Figure out how to make crepe batter with the stuff in our house
  
• Practice singing Nel Cor Piu Non Mi Sento (since apparently my brother and I are now taking turns with vocal lessons)
• Figure out how early I have to get up tomorrow morning (VERY EARLY)
• Get off this computer.

K and I are walking from our high school to our middle school because we are slowpokes who won't finish our sculpture project on time unless we visit Mrs. E's room to work after school. On the way, we pass by a young chocolate-brown Boxer dog who is happily sprinting in the bike lane next to us. We say, "Awww, what a cute dog. It looks so happy! Hopefully it won't get run over." I look back over my shoulder and see a distant white SUV at the turning at the stop sign onto the road next to our sidewalk, but the dog is still sprinting happily in the bike lane, so K and I continue walking without much thought.

Approximately ten minutes after K and I have settled into the back art room and started working on our sculptures, EB walks in and tells us that she'd been walking to BHMS from our school when a cute dog ran by and got hit by a car right before her eyes. K and I just look at each other.
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Earlier today, I was not in a good mood because I had done something incredibly stupid and out of character for someone who is usually pretty observant. Basically, as a result, my AP Lit grade doesn't look like it has a good chance of going up, so I may end up breaking my perfect academic record this year. It's not so much that it'll completely ruin my future -- because I know it won't -- but I would be very disappointed if I'd worked all the way to senior year, and I destroy what I've been working for because of such stupidity and carelessness.

I know that in the long run, your ungraduate school, much less your high school grades, have little impact on how well you do in future careers. But I don't want to get caught up in that trapped method of thinking. That would just be giving me an excuse to succumb to senioritis and stop trying. High school senior year isn't retirement. If I lose all the habits I've attained over the last seventeen years, I'm a dead fish when I reach college. In fact, I think my AP Lit grade is a warning that I'm slipping up. I'm just hoping I'll manage to pull out.

Then again, the episode with the dog just completely turned my head upside down. If I had done something -- tried to talk to the dog, tried to stop it -- I would have stopped it from getting hurt. I don't even know if the dog died, but I get the feeling it probably did. There has never been a point this obvious in my life when I realize just how much of an impact I can make by doing nothing. I even said out loud, "Hopefully the dog doesn't get run over." Why didn't any of us who passed by the dog on the road do anything??

And if a decision that simple could produce such an irreversible outcome, just imagine how fragile this future I'm working for is. AP Lit grades? They don't matter if you're in the hospital in critical condition. You want to be an orthopedic surgeon? Good luck if you're the one lying on the operating table. Someone walking down the expressway might see a swerving car and say, "Gee, that driver must be drunk or something," and then simply continue walking to the bus stop with his burger and fries. Then he hears the sirens moments later, and you've turned out to be the next victim.

The more I try to understand this world, the more ludicrous it seems to get.