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Hypocrite? Me?
It seems like every-single-person on lj has taken that Circles of Hell quiz in the past few days. pssh. Well, so have I. I find it *highly* amusing that I can reverse my "very highs" and "very lows" just by reinterpreting the questions. Like, do I believe some people just deserve to die? I believe it's generally a worse punishment to make someone live. "Religion is fiction"? No, fiction is religion. Sex before marriage? Depends on how you define marriage. And I can see myself committing treason *for* my country. Morals are least relative thing in relativistic universe.
And does it count as "reading scripture," if it was only because you were writing a sex scene and turning to the Song of Songs for advice?
On the other hand, I think I shall give in to the temptation to do the
Twenty Years Ago: I am considering very carefully leaving my nice, warm, safe, haven and actually facing the real world. In fact I am running late, and should have left already, were I concerned about getting there on time.
Fifteen Years Ago: I'm about to finish up my first year of school. Lusting over the computer my kindergarten teacher's acquired- it has a *color monitor*! My relationship with my first and last boyfriend is about to end; it's on rocky ground already. Dad thinks he's a troublemaker. The next year I will see him standing in the hall outside his homeroom, and realize Dad was right all along.
Ten Years Ago: I am about to grow up. In two weeks, I will no longer be an innocent child; I will hit two digits and host my first slumber party, running around the yard in bathing suits screaming, then late in my room teaching my two best girlfriends how to play strip poker. For the next several years I will absentmindedly give my age as nine.
Five years ago: I'm ending my freshman year of high school, and quite pleased, too. Trying for the second time to read the Silmarillion; retiring my new green cloak for the summer. Semi-worried about grades, since a certain bio teacher bases grades entirely on appearance of notebook cover and/or cleavage, neither of which I took much trouble with.
Two years ago: Ending senior year of high school. I'm very happy: no summer homework hanging over me, acceptance at a good university with full scholarship, clean slate in a new place! I read Harry Potter during the graduation ceremony and waste the entire summer.
One year ago: First year of university over. I've picked a major and gotten into an exclusive Writer's program. Working on original fiction a lot; optimistic about everything except the grade I'm getting in Math. I'm sorry to be leaving college but can't wait to get home, where I will spend the entire summer cataloging my library by loc card catalog number.
One month ago: I've just gotten a livejournal. Spring break is over; I'm excited having seen friends from home; however have not done any of the copius schoolwork I'd intended to over break; thus rather depressed about my own discipline.
Today: I am considering very carefully leaving my nice, warm, safe, room and actually facing the real world. In fact I am running late, and should have left already, were I concerned about getting there on time.
Tomorrow: I decide I need a pair of decadent pajamas. I'll be twenty soon, and the only pajamas I have that aren't either cotton knit or flannel are things I inherited from my grandmothers. That does not seem right. I am convinced it feels much more -- luxurious -- to get cookie crumbs and magic marker all over midnight-blue satin.
And does it count as "reading scripture," if it was only because you were writing a sex scene and turning to the Song of Songs for advice?
On the other hand, I think I shall give in to the temptation to do the
Twenty Years Ago: I am considering very carefully leaving my nice, warm, safe, haven and actually facing the real world. In fact I am running late, and should have left already, were I concerned about getting there on time.
Fifteen Years Ago: I'm about to finish up my first year of school. Lusting over the computer my kindergarten teacher's acquired- it has a *color monitor*! My relationship with my first and last boyfriend is about to end; it's on rocky ground already. Dad thinks he's a troublemaker. The next year I will see him standing in the hall outside his homeroom, and realize Dad was right all along.
Ten Years Ago: I am about to grow up. In two weeks, I will no longer be an innocent child; I will hit two digits and host my first slumber party, running around the yard in bathing suits screaming, then late in my room teaching my two best girlfriends how to play strip poker. For the next several years I will absentmindedly give my age as nine.
Five years ago: I'm ending my freshman year of high school, and quite pleased, too. Trying for the second time to read the Silmarillion; retiring my new green cloak for the summer. Semi-worried about grades, since a certain bio teacher bases grades entirely on appearance of notebook cover and/or cleavage, neither of which I took much trouble with.
Two years ago: Ending senior year of high school. I'm very happy: no summer homework hanging over me, acceptance at a good university with full scholarship, clean slate in a new place! I read Harry Potter during the graduation ceremony and waste the entire summer.
One year ago: First year of university over. I've picked a major and gotten into an exclusive Writer's program. Working on original fiction a lot; optimistic about everything except the grade I'm getting in Math. I'm sorry to be leaving college but can't wait to get home, where I will spend the entire summer cataloging my library by loc card catalog number.
One month ago: I've just gotten a livejournal. Spring break is over; I'm excited having seen friends from home; however have not done any of the copius schoolwork I'd intended to over break; thus rather depressed about my own discipline.
Today: I am considering very carefully leaving my nice, warm, safe, room and actually facing the real world. In fact I am running late, and should have left already, were I concerned about getting there on time.
Tomorrow: I decide I need a pair of decadent pajamas. I'll be twenty soon, and the only pajamas I have that aren't either cotton knit or flannel are things I inherited from my grandmothers. That does not seem right. I am convinced it feels much more -- luxurious -- to get cookie crumbs and magic marker all over midnight-blue satin.
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I'm surprised you haven't seen it yet. It's spreading all over LJ like wildfire.
I took the test, landed in Dis and decided not to bother posting the results.
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(Anonymous) 2003-04-30 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)--C
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