Nina's Patented Study Methods

It's that time of year again when winter break is about to start so teachers cram in all the tests possible in the week before. Thus, I bring you from a state of abject despair, Nina's Patented Study Methods.

Study method #1: place your review packets on your skin in hopes that the knowledge will be absorbed through osmosis

Study method #2: lie down on the floor and cry in hopes that through sheer pitifulness you will pass the test

Study method #3: it's always C or the longest answer, right? Who needs to study?

Study method #4: watch youtube videos vaguely related to what you are studying in hopes that by the tenth LOLcat video you will have mastered the subject

Study method #5: preform the snow dance in hopes that even if you don't know the material, at least there will be no school tomorrow

Just follow these fool-proof methods and you'll be sure to maybe possibly pass if you're good at guessing the right answers to multiple choice questions!

Snow Day: Mission Success

My persuasion tactics and snow dance worked! School was cancelled yesterday and today.

I have been alternating between baking and having snowball fights. My brother and I also made a snow man that is almost as tall as I am (not a hard feat, but still).

Alas, there is most likely going to be school tomorrow. My time of freedom was too short.

I also managed to procrastinate all of my homework and push it off to wednesday, which is going to be especially painful because I will be staying late after school for a drama audition.

Life is hard.

Snow Day... Please?

It snowed!

A snow day hasn't been announced yet, but the specialty agents I've send to... persuade... whomever is responsible for scheduling snow days should be completing their work soon.

In the meantime, I've been executing my traditional Snow Day Dance, as well as wearing my pajamas inside out and sleeping with a spoon I've kept in the freezer under my pillow. Oh, and I've flushed A LOT of ice cubes down the toilet. I hope the pipes in my house survived the ordeal...

Not that I'm superstitious, but I'm pretty sure every little bit of cosmic interference helps.

R Assassination

We're back to short stories on Fridays. What a relief. The universe has finally restored its balance.

The target was in plain sight. The lapels of his coat were turned up around his face but I could still clearly identify him from this distance. I carefully aimed the rifle from my perch atop the roof of the building.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice behind me.

I jumped and whirled around. My hand was already reaching towards the handgun strapped to my belt.

The speaker was a boy my age. Young. He held up his hands to show that he had no weapon. “Relax,” he said,” I’m on your side.”

I didn’t relax. “How did you find me?”

He shrugged. “Easy. This is the only building that would give you a clear shot at him.” He gestured to my target, who was all ready almost out of the range of my rifle.

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you want?”

“Well, for one, I want you not to shoot who you were just about to shoot. I also want you to listen as to why.”

“I’m being paid good money for this,” I said, “You’re going to anger a lot of very important people.”

“The thing is,” the boy said, “that I am the very important people.”

“You’re R?” I asked, incredulous.

“In the flesh.”

“Then what’s the point of hiring me to kill someone and telling me not to?”

“It was a test. I wanted to see if you were capable, and you are, so now I want you to assassinate someone else.”

I didn’t believe him. He must have miscalculated who was to blame and hired me to kill the wrong person. “Then who am I supposed to assassinate?” I asked.

“Me.”

Christmas is Creeping...

So, as I briefly mentioned in my previous post, Christmas is just around the corner.

Christmas is right beside you.

Watching.

Always...

watching.

And boy am I excited! Christmas is like, the best thing ever. Because PRESENTS.

Just kidding! Christmas is really all about friendship and kindness!

But PRESENTS.

Is it too early to bust out the Pandora Christmas radio station?

...nope.

I will now write the rest of this post while listening to the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra.

Yeah, I really like Christmas. My family does the whole decorating the tree thing and everything. Also candy canes are awesome. And PRESENTS. And snow. And Christmas music. Just Christmas.

Christmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas.

Morning People Strike Again

Because the musical is over my procrastination has gotten even worse.  Every time I sit down to do my homework my brain says "Hey it's only five o'clock! You got home from rehearsals at six and still managed to get your homework done. Just wait another hour..."

Well you know what brain, I don't care what you think because I want to get to bed at a decent hour tonight!

I actually went to bed at nine o'clock last night. It was glorious. I still woke up tired though, because apparently it doesn't matter how much sleep you get if you wake up at 6 am every morning.

You know who voluntarily wakes up at 6 am?

Morning people. The world wouldn't be so difficult if it wasn't run by morning people. I mean, really. 

On another note, it's like, christmas time??? When did that happen???

I do love christmas, but I swear it was August two seconds ago.

Guess I should probably start buying present for people. 

The Revival

Well would you look at that? Nina actually posted something for short story sunday. It's a miracle. Oh, and in a stunning turn of events, this story is back to creepy again!

“The money first,” the girl says. Her eyes are each a deep black abyss. The man in the trench coat hands her several crumpled hundred dollar bills.

“Half until I can see what you do,” he says. The girl nods her head. She stares down at the grave in front of her. The ground is made of freshly packed dirt and the tombstone is a shining beacon of marble-white in the moonlight. She stretches out her arm over the grave, fingers splayed. The ground stirs under her hand. For a moment nothing happens, but then white fleshy fingers claw their way out of the dirt like worms in rain. An arm follows the hands and then a face begins to emerge, caked brown with mud, eyes startled and bright under the filth.

“Where am I?” the face croaks. It’s voice sounds unused and scratchy. A woman. She tugs the rest of her body out of the grave. Her dress, once a vibrant red, is dulled by a coating of dust. The man in the trench coat tosses the remaining money at the girl and throws his arms around the woman. He buries his face in her stringy hair and holds her as she sobs against him. When the man looks back at the girl she is gone.