Doornails and (most likely) specious arguments

specious, ay, kate? nice. i like it. Tongue-rollingly smooth.

Hamlet hath slain Polonius! Dead!

Dead, dead, dead as a doornail,
No-more, for a doornail has life in attraction.

yes. i compsed that ditty all by myself. *scornful laugh*

It rained slightly heavier domestic animals than cats and dogs today. It teemed down so forcefully in the morning that i was getting all prepared to brave the mad rush to be the first one on Noah's ark by noon. But the downpour eased up after a while. The ferocity was fabulous while it lasted though. I love exposing myself to the extremes of the elements. No- my ignorance is palpable in its callousness. Heavy rainfall that lasts for an hour is hardly an extreme. Hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis- these are the true extremes. I would not be revelling in their power then. Rain is but a pale mockery.

Hamlet is the apotheosis of wit. Listen to what he says...no, let me give you the context first. Hamlet hates his uncle Claudius, for he poisoned his father, and married his mother, and is now King. Listen.

Hamlet: Farewell, dear mother
Claudius: Thy loving father, Hamlet.
Hamlet: My mother. Father and mother is man and wife, man and wife is one flesh; so my mother.

ha! oh, and....Hamlet has just killed (mistakenly) Polonius, the kings chief advisor.

Claudius: Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
Hamlet: at supper
Claudius: At supper? Where?
Hamlet: Not where he eats, but where 'a is eaten. A certain convocation of polotic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's the end.
King: Alas, alas.
Hamlet: A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
King: what dost thou mean of this?
Hamlet: Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.

So smart. So smart. i love this italics thingo.

My computer is making strange groaning noises. Either its programs are making out in the hardrive, or this computer is going bust. Haha! Whenever i hear the word bust, i always think of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. When they're at the Quidditch world cup, and they see a little boy who has stolen his fathers wand and is swelling a slug to unnatural proportions. Then his mother runs out in alarm and accidentally steps on it. The little boys shouts follow Harry, Ron and Hermione...
"You bust slug! You bust slug!"

Oh, that the journey did not have to end! I wanted it to stretch into eternity...or at least until i die. Ah well...i can return to Hogwarts, although no fresh adventure awaits. God bless JK Rowling.

You have no idea how much i've been torturing myself with the question on how my english became so appalling. I have come up with so many conclusions, each one wilder than the last. Would you like a sample? These encompass but a few
- that i focussed so much on the words that comprised the sentence, that i lost sight of the meaning of the sentence, and why i was writing it
- that it has retrograded because my teacher focuses on the oral, being a dramatist
- because i care about it. I do so much better in subjects that i don't give a fig about.
- haha, because this is the first year that i've had a male as an english teacher
- because i somehow changed after Tasmania...i became more pessimisstic, and my wit was drained
- that i no longer believed in myself, and was so afraid to write, in case i should find my own stupidity staring at me in the face...and thus ensured it.
- that i forgot what clarity meant
- that, because other troubles were resolved, i could no longer agonize over them- and thus focussed instead on the vacuous nature of my brain.
- that, because i have so many smart people in my class, i was daunted by the astuteness, and instantly reasoned that i was an 'inferior' and gave up hope of ever being a literary.

yes. Wild and whirling arguments. And yet, they still come. I find myself thinking about it when i'm supposed to be doing homework. Why can't i just leave me alone!! God...i am sure if i did not think on it, overcoming the problem would be so much easier. Hey...in this regard, i resemble Hamlet (i know, i'm stretching it...). The more he thought on the necessary action of avenging his father, the less capable he was of doing it. The more i think of how i must somehow climb up that tiresome hill to become capable of stringing together reason, the more distance myself from my goal. It's all about procrastination.