Spent today just being lazy. No thesis to occupy my time, y'know? I'm completely unable to look at a word document to write (or rewrite, in one case). the idea of writing fiction makes my eyes weep blood. I take this as a sign. I've a form of stigmata and I'm Jesus, but even Jesus needs to rest and chill. So I'm re-reading Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower, cleaning, watching the second season of Deadwood, and going through old junk. Report cards, as seen earlier, were found. I went to Pendle Hill High School and rumour has it that the year I left it was officially recognised as disadvantaged, though I've no idea if they even do that. It makes me laugh though so I repeat it. Wikipedia has an entry that says, "In most years 2 or 3 students achieve Higher School Certificate marks sufficiently high to allow them to go to university."
It's higher, of course. Least it was when I left. Ten, fifteen percent, I think.
Anyhow, who gives a shit 'bout that. There's a web page for the school and it's a remarkable display in cheap, blind slave child labour. Here it is: Pendle Hill High School, the website. Things haven't changed much in the photos--though I don't remember those power points in the lab tables. Of particular interest to me is the reviews of books students have recently liked in the library section and the notable students. I would never have guessed that ballroom dancing would be so popular, or that one of the ex-students would be on Dancing With the Stars.
