I'm really not going to get into college, am I? I made some arrangements with the dear horseback-riding Kelly. It would seem that, in order to support myself, I'm to become her lackey for life, or at least until rheumatism or somesuch thing sends me sprawling into the mud. No one can say I don't plan for the future.

I want to be good at something, or at least something that matters in the "real world," the one that's dominated by the tongue-twisting acronyms that form one's high school schedule.

By the way, I failed Algebra III by three points. This might account for my current state.

I like Trig so far. Trig seems nice and fairly innocuous, at least judging by the one day I've had the class. Algebra III, I hope, can be retaken in night school, or outside of school, or on independent study, or something, anything, that can get me that infernal half-credit that is far more trouble than its worth and has absolutely no right to wield the power it has over which diploma I'm tossed at graduation.

I can graduate with 3.5 math credits. I could have graduated last year, with three, and gotten the standard diploma. But no, I hung on, decided to go for the fourth full year, do IB Honors, get the advanced diploma. And now, in spite of the fact that the rest of my schedule is virtually a breeze and virtually solid IB, my one "idiot" class, the one containing mere mortals as opposed to suicidal slaves to academics, is the one holding me down. You see, advanced and IB diplomas require four math credits. Even if I pass Trig, I'll have 3.5. This, then, is why it is imperative that I tackle the monster once again. I refuse to settle for standard at this point. Not after almost four years of drudgery and voluntary self-harm.

I'm not entirely stupid, but I'm good at unconsciously appearing otherwise. This little incident simply takes the cake.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

I've worn out my eloquence, such as it is. Shame, that, I'll need a fair amount for tomorrow's confrontation of the guidance office.

Adieu.