Thanks for the comments, you guys! I loved them! When I wrote that first entry, I hadn't completed the whole schoolweek yet, so here's the highlights of the rest:


I had English and Spanish class, and Philosophie, Geography, plus more classes that I had already been in earlier in the week. I absolutely loved English class; it was really fun and simple. We first had to write a short article about a high school swimming race, and how we imagined it. There were a list of words that were optinional to put in the article, and all those who read aloud put in those words, except for me. I felt so special because I could play with the language and didn't have to stick with the basics. But then, it's kind of the opposite in every other class, so I guess I'm allowed to show off a bit in that class. I wrote this:

Sims High School Shark Steals Gold for Fourth Year

On March 3rd, Woodbridge High School hosted the Varsity League Final for all their neighboring schools. With over 1,000 people packed into the stand, it was the biggest turn-out in five years! Of course, the infamous senior Jesse Malik won by his usual 8 seconds. No other boy in any of the seven heats had a chance against what Malik's teammates nicknamed him; the shark. As for the woman's race, the shark's own girlfriend, Stephenie Cardew, claimed first prize. Sims High School swim coach comments, "They must have some system worked out that I don't know about. I only wish they would share the secret with me and the rest of the team." Second place winner, Todd Esher, says grudgingly, "They're just afraid of competition." It might or might not be true, but unfortunately, we'll never know that or their suspected secret. Overall, everyone is amazed by the 17th anual Varsity League swim Final results!

It was pretty fun to write. I read it aloud and it was awesome. We then read the real short story of a swim race, compared them, and our homework is to come up with an ending for the real story. Oh, yeah, the actual story was that there were two boys, Gordon and the main character who were going to race in a high school competition. The main character was always a bit faster than Gordon but he overheard Gordon's father threatening to beat his son up if he didn't win. The main character lets him win but has mixed feelings about it afterwards. My ending is that Gordon resents the main character's choice and he says he doesn't need any help with his problems. And the main character then thinks as Gordon's walking away; fine, then next time I'll let you handle your own problems, and your dad. It'll be so cool to read that to everyone on Monday.

Spanish class was good, but at first I wondered if I was in the wrong Spanish, the one for 12th graders, because the teacher spoke Spanish to us for the first five or ten minutes, but no one else looked like they didn't have a clue what was going on. For the whole class we wrote down words that we already knew in Spanish and our homework is to memorize the vocab. I did. And I told the teacher to put espanol (I don't know how to do the wierd thing above the n), and fiesta. Three fourths of the way through the class, the teacher heard that I had somewhat of an accent when I said some German word. I thought, damn it! I almost made it the whole way through without her guessing. Oh well. That's kind of a game I've played with half my teachers so far, but most of them already knew that they had a foreign student in their class. They just didn't know who it was.

Philosophie was all right. On the good side, I understood most of what the teacher said, and he talked really fast. I mean, like, really really fast. The downside is that I didn't understand any important words, which were all huge, on the text he gave us to read. Fortunately, he guessed who I was before we all had to read our analysis of the text aloud.

Last night, I was telling Pamela and Thorsten about the James story, which I'm quite sure you all know the contents of very well by now, I hope, and was inspired to read them a short story I had written in tenth grade called White Hell. I don't think you've all heard of it, but I'm quite proud of it. It's about a psycho who is in a prison that is all white. Throughout the story, he becomes more and more greedy for something to interrupt the constant whiteness and the silence of his life, and I won't give away the ending, but it's exciting. If you want to read it, comment and I'll send it to you.

Anyway, after I'd read them that, Thorsten suggested that I maybe write a handful of short stories to then publish together in one book. That is a really good idea. So, since then, I've written two more stories, one about a mentally disturbed guy and one about a quirky, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. One has to know English grammer fairly well to read the one about the mentally disturbed guy, who's name is Finni, because he is the narrorator and doesn't think or talk clearly, ever. I kind-of wanted to write it in that way to even out my struggles with German. I wanted to make something that requires English skills, like an elite English club, where only those who are able to read and understand it are allowed. I don't want to be exclusive, though, as long as you are my friend or relative, or both.

That was a tiny glimpse of my mischivious side, by the way. I love writing so much. It's absolutely, positively, one of the best forms of expression anyone could have ever come up with. I'm glad I went to kindergarden. Oh, also, I made the fifth pawn (Bauer) tonight. Imagine I'm taking a step closer to you, leaning inward slightly, and whispering to you now; that's German by the way, the word Bauer. I think you can guess what it means. I would, in fact, tell this to those of you who already knew what it meant merely to have the chance to say those two particular sentances to you in mine and your lifetime, because the opportunity to tell you such a thing would hardly present itself again, except if one of us created the words to set up the scenario ourselves, but that would just mean wasted words would litter our ever too short futures.

Okay, so that weird part at the end of the last paragraph, the one I'm sure you noticed, is the kind of writing you'll find in the short story I've named Ginger, for now, about that strange guy who goes with the flow. The other one, about Finni, I've named Pink Clouds for the time being. I feel dramatic, and have the urge to perform something right now. I really need that Hamburg English Theater.

I love all of you so so much,

Love, Hanna