Paper Tigers

So, I'm the first one done my exam. Congratulate me. Or rather, don't. I now have a full bloody hour to wait for class to end and I'm bored. Hence the reason I'm blogging again. Well, that and the fact I won't update for another week and a bit. I'm going up to my friends cottage. It's going to be great fun, but I have to miss brads party since it's on the day I'm leaving. If only I had a Tardis...

Back to the exam, I clocked out 2 and a half pages in an hour and 15 minutes. Not bad if I do say so myself. And what's this? Got it back already! Fairly good mark. I can't complain. I prolly could have done better, but I couldn't stand the crucible.

I always say that I hate the crucible, don't I? But I've never once talked about Gatsby... Well, I have to admit I liked The Great Gatsby when I first read it. I liked it because I got so pissed at the characters. It sounds strange to me, but that's honestly why I liked it. However, I'd have to say I hated Nick the most. Not because he did anything bad, but because he never did anything. He could have stepped in at any time in the book and said that's enough, but instead he says "it's my birthday." good for you, nick. Too bad you don't have any friends left to celebrate it with; Gatsby's dead Tom and daisy left, and Jordan dumped you. That's right, just move back in with your parents. Go play WOW in their basement or something. I don't care if it's not around for another 80 years.

You know, I devised a theory about Nick. He's an alien sen to observe us. Think about it. He hardly ever speaks, never steps in, just lets everything take its course. That, coupled up with the fact that he knows every detail of everything, even when he isn't at the event. Ex, when Wilson goes crazy. He knows who was with Wilson between what times, what the person looked at while they were there, and even every word the characters said to each other. Now that you think about it, it's true isn't it? EVERY DETAIL.
I might even write an essay on the topic. I'll post it of I do.

In the meantime, the lyrics from a near-perfect song:

I'm gazing at faces staring blankly at me
Oh I suppose it's just a sign of the times
They tell me tomorrow I'll never arrive
But I've seen it end a million times.