It's late and I should sleep. I have too much to get done. Composition portfolio due Dec. 15, finish Christmas shopping, call my sponsor family, shop for sponsor girl with Marver-Lize (the appropriate last name of my beloved English teacher who is way too cool to take the last name of her husband no matter how nice he is), wrap Christmas gifts, decorate, go to work to be able to afford gas and Christmas presents, buy new boots (or any boots since I have none), find my warm winter coat, study math since I fail miserably at it, poke at my dead cat for awhile to see if I can actually learn what is called what (what's the point of the dissection anyway? we just look at muscles and name them. what a waste), look for a new job since $6 an hour does NOT suffice, apply to college (oh yeah, that), brainstorm and do layout for January Smoke Signals issue, Christmas decorating...
And oh, I'm nothing I ever wanted to be. Right now is the opportune moment to divulge the ultimate secret: I would rather be beautiful and ignorant. Reasoning (as warped and twisted as it comes): I know I'm intelligent. The problem with intelligence is that no one can be the smartest or greatest. There is always someone else to be overshadowed by (passive voice). I love to write, but there are a million other people who write better than I do. Who's ideas are more original than mine. I am nothing by comparison. Same goes for every other subject I seemingly excel in that isn't beauty related. There is always someone better. I hate that. It makes everything I do seem futile. But beauty on the other hand, is simple. A pretty face is a pretty face is a pretty face. Are there people who are an exemplary beautiful person? Yes, of course. But as for the general population of beautiful people, they are beautiful in similar ways. Beauty fades, but by that time she's married and popped out a few kids and goes to the same job every day: beauty is obsolete anyway. But for now, for me, being intelligent enough to know I'm not intelligent enough drives me to the brink of cliche. Though this is all hypothetical and in no way supported by any kind of study or science, and truthfully, since this is hypothetical, I would rather have all the mind in the world that have eyelashes that go on for days. Besides, if I were that intelligent, I would probably end up just buying beauty if I really wanted it. That's the beauty of it all. Store bought attractiveness supplied to ugly smart people. Not to say all smart people are ugly or that I think I'm ugly. Rambling aside, my point has been made across.
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