"my brain is frozen"

Quoth Laura P. as we all huddled in Latin, wondering quidnam ("why the heck") the A/C was still running at the very tail end of October. Apparently to keep us alert.

Sophomore year is all encompassing. We live, eat, breathe, sleep NSA. I drifted into the sweet escape of sleep the other night trying to solve one of Euclid's theorems, turning it this way and that, perhaps this method would work, maybe that one.... I don't remember actually falling asleep, just waking up the next morning, the proof still unsolved. We crack jokes that only students of Thucydides would understand - and we laugh. An announcement of the goal of writing 2,000 words in one night brings not questions of sanity but sober head nodding and "hmmm. good idea. I should get on that myself."

"Don't panic - and pray for us sophomores" is the constant mantra in our heads as we work our way through this swirling dust cloud of academia. I've forgotten what tired means. I have this insane desire to take on the world when I'm fully awake - maybe because it feels like I've been given super powers. We are too far gone to differentiate between the feeling of panic and the feeling of normalcy.

We are flying. We are Sophomores.

today's declamation (concert day, baby)

To be sung to the tune of "Let it Be"

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mr. Schlect, he speaks to me
in those office hours, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness
He is sitting right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted students
Striving in this school agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be weary there is still
a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
There will be an answer, wait and see.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the night is passing,
There is still that paper waiting.
Work until tomorrow, let it be.
I think about the words of wisdom,
Mr. Schelct, he said to me
if your outline’s perfect, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, yeah let it be.
There will be an answer, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, yeah let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

and into week two

Last week felt like it lasted a month. It ended with the Reformation banquet and the giving out of the grades, a momentous event greeted with great cheer or weeping, depending on how well you studied for finals.... I did fine.

The highlight of the event was my thrift store find: the red formal I've been searching for since forever. And, much to my joy, it was for mere pennies. Mrs. Menadier, aka the Wizard, did some alterations and then twisted up my hair. Below is the result (taken by local paparazzi, hence my bemused expression).

The dress was floor length, solid wine red. Very lovely, if I do say so myself. I love red. It makes me happy.

to be perfectly blunt

Sophomore year is hard. Really hard. If this is only week one, what on earth is week six going to feel like?

Dead girl walking.

break? what break?

Apparently there was a break recently because we have found ourselves saying "last year" when we actually mean "last term," which makes me think there must have been some duration of time in which homework was not altogether mandatory. But I haven't completely noticed - the comfortable, hectic routine rolls on.

This term promises great things; the classes just keep getting better, and when getting my grades back I'm finding that they are pretty much all over the map, from a stellar History final (Mr. Schlect's words, not mine) to a so, so Latin final (but I passed - the grade was decent, that's what counts). Sweetness prevails.

It's raining. A lot. Bring an umbrella when you step outside to admire the simple gorgeousness that is Moscow right now.

i know kung fu

What does the average NSA student do on break? Quite frankly, I have no idea. But I know what this one did:

Sleep.
Sleep.
Go winter clothes shopping.
Go to the barn.
Clean stalls.
Ride.
Sleep.
History homework.
Make cheesecake.
Eat said cheesecake (and behold, it was good).
Ride.
Ride. Get hot, dirty, sweaty and beautiful. The horses don't mind.
Sleep.
Clean more stalls and call it a day.

Overall it was a lovely week. A blur, but a satisfactory one, in which I rode nearly every day, and soaked up the essence of dressage as much as possible. Equito ergo sum (I ride, therefore I am). I've been spoiled, I admit, getting to work around horses worth $20,000+. We had one come through while I was there this week who as a four year old imported from Germany was worth $50,000, but now is "dirt cheap" at $17, 500 (due to stifle surgery in his past and a subsequent hitch in his gait that should eventually go away with work). We all sat and drooled at his gorgeousness and talent. Now that is a sport horse. I want one. Pretty please?

Once back in Moscow, I watched The Matrix for the first time and decided that it would be ever so convenient to be able to download our classes into our brains like they can download kung fu. Like so:

*twitch, twitch* *Blink*
"I know Herodotus."

brothers are strange creatures

I walk in the door and everything appears normal. My backpacks by the couch getting the sniff over from Kirby, Mom's Corgi, and after all the "welcome homes" I plop my tired self on the couch and proceed to get weirded out. Derek walks up the stairs, or rather, he unfolds himself up the stairs. I think he grew about six inches since I've seen him last, and the first thing he does is to see if he's taller than me yet - by Thanksgiving I'll be looking up. To my little brother. *sigh*

Kurt has discovered Star Wars, going around the house talking about Obe Wan Kenobe, Anakin, and all the other names I'm not even going to try to spell, like he's known them all his life. His Lego AT-AT is getting more sophisticated by the minute, and when he's not doing homework he's pouring over the Lego catalog, admiring Star Cruisers, the dreamy look in his eyes getting dreamier as the pages turn.

The family room has become headquarters to the Brickmasters, the local Lego League - robotics, computers, science, Derek's area of expertise. Who needs to buy a surround sound system when you can make your own? I was more or less jerked awake Saturday morning by the sweet sounds of Lord of the Dance music in my ear and hysterical laughter in the other room. Derek rigged up his boom box to play in both rooms. You splice the wires and things. Simple.

Sunday evening after church they start doing gymnastics over the front lawn - and I, who was previously proud that I can still do a neat cartwheel, am now ashamed. They look like pros. Nine hours a week in the gym will do that, I suppose.

I'll go read Thucydides or something. Make myself look smart.

one year ago

I was one fourth of the way through with my freshman year. Now I am one fourth of the year through my sophomore year. *throws arms in the air and spins in dizzy circles*

Finals are completely done for me. Now I have a disaster area of a room to clean, papers to sort, things to get ready for next term, not to mention Broadway music to listen to.

Fun class pictures this year and last:

Yours truly and Lindsey Whear, robed, nerdy and crazy sophomores

Brittany Petruzzi, me and Rachel, all innocent freshmen (I can't remember what we were all laughing at - maybe just because we were so clueless about what was about to befall us....)

vos moriturus, saluto

Quoth Magister Griffithius. Reminiscent of last year, when Melissa and I greeted Magistra Natali with Nos moriturus, te salutamus. (Translation: "You who are about to die, I salute you." "We who are about to die, salute you")

Yes, it is finals week. Insecure sophomores wander through the halls, their black robes billowing out behind them, muttering something that sounds vaguely like "Shalmanesar III - did - something. Battle. Qarquar. 845? No, 853? Mardonius, important."

I down a mocha, run through my outlines, how to sum up the Ionian Revolt and Greco-Persian wars in 200 seconds or less? Math oral and written was yesterday, I'm pretty sure I know whether or not numbers exist - or who thinks they don't, at any rate. And what love is. Just ask David Dalbey. I sat in on his public final yesterday morning, and that was what he had to reveal to us.

History final goes well, despite the pacing done while waiting. Change, run to UI for voice. Bray's on a roll; it's all work, no play. Only I'm learning stuff that I've been wanting to learn forever, so I'm having a great time, and don't realize how much time has passed until suddenly I realize "I'm ready to be done." Bray looks at me a bit askance and makes the observation that by the time I'm done with finals I'm going to be totally wiped.

Latin exam: Best left untouched. I passed. I think.

I'm not studying tonight. I'm curling up with my laptop and watching a movie.