Hmm...
Wed May 10, 2006 17:21 EST (UTC -5)Now that the AP European history exam has passed, I haven't had to worry about that class anymore. Some teachers keep their AP students working after the test, but since this is a history class, we studied everything chronologically in preparation for the exam. So the only thing we have left is to do European-history-related things. That wasn't clear immediately, though. When Mr. Miller became our teacher in November, he passed out a schedule he had drawn up for pacing the class. The last three weeks were labelled "hmmmmm.......," which wasn't really helpful. I thought a little about what we would do during the "hmm time"; I assumed we would just do nothing.
The main history-related thing we're doing this week is watching Schindler's List. It's probably the saddest movie I've ever seen, and I haven't even seen the whole thing yet. It might have made me go crazy. Next week we're going to do some research for a final paper that we have to write. We have to write about something European and contemporary: politics, music, sports, anything. Since that doesn't really narrow anything down, I haven't thought of a subject to write about yet. Hopefully I will soon. There's also talk of having a little party now that the year is drawing to a close. We've been through a lot together. It sounds cheesy, but it's true.
Yesterday I got sent to a guidance counselor's office during class. Apparently I did so well on the PSAT this last time that I'm in the running to get that National Merit Scholarship thingy. Of course, it's some kind of competition, so I haven't been guaranteed to get it. I don't know how the competition takes place (another test? a spelling bee? a poker game?), but I do know that it takes place in the fall. Also, the National Merit Scholarship people say that they will send my scores on some test to any two colleges I want. If any of the aforementioned details is inaccurate, it's probably because I didn't really read the letter they gave me yet.
People all the time be asking me: "jordan what collage do u want to go 2." I've never given a straight-out answer, but you heard it here first: I'm thinking of going to the University of Florida. Why? Because it's the best school in Florida, and my options will probably be limited to this state. It would be convenient to live in the same state, anyway, because then I wouldn't have to become a resident of another state (and have to get a new driver's license to replace the one that will have been freshly gotten). Also, I wouldn't have to worry about snow, which all those rich Ivy League boys have to put up with. And if things got tough I could always cry and run to my aunt's house in southern Columbia County.
Hey, people, come on and Ask Jordon. I need some more questions.
Renee: whats more slutty shorty shorts or mini skirts? hope u answa it:)
It seems that a disproportionately large number of Ask Jordon questions are from girls asking for advice about boys: "Will we be together forever?" "Will I ever get a boyfriend?" "What are some secrets you need to tell your boyfriend?" "How do you make a guy like you?" I try to answer them the best (or most funnily) I can, but it's obvious that I don't know what I'm talking about because I've never been in a relationship.
Finally, here's one that's like that, except that I can answer it. The answer is miniskirts. See, if your desk happens to be facing other students in the classroom... well, you might get a whole lot more than a lesson that day, whether you want to or not. (And I don't.)
Here's a video showing some crazy car accidents (Flash video with sound) in a Moscow tunnel. The video is set to inappropriately snappy techno-type music.
Back in the '60s, technology had advanced to the point that you could have a computer in your kitchen! It could store recipes for you, it came with a cutting board, and it only cost as much as four new cars!
Two years ago: "If a reptile can become an acclaimed artist, so can I."
Filed under Ask Jordon, Computers, Movies/TV, Musings and Observations, School, Stuff

