I took a hiatus. Not that it was an intentional hiatus, it was just one-of -those-things-that-are-determined-by-external-circumstances-but-you-have-halting-control-over.
AKA, boarding school.
Not that I have any regrets, I love boarding school, despite the fact that some of it is tough. Eventually, your system learns to accept it.
It would be fairly uncharitable of me if I didn't elaborate upon its various perks, but I was told that an introduction should comprise only seven lines (the Man can bring you down) and I just realized that I'm clearly overstepping the boundaries of written literature as has been mandated by the species that swore fidelity to neanderthals.
Long sentence. Ambiguous. Wrong Grammar, all over again.
To compensate, I'll make the next sentence crisp and starchy.
Toast.
Bet you didn't see that one coming.
I miss toast. Somehow, a school providing six hundred girls with twelve hundred slices of toast, only generates a half-baked effort which isn't the crisp, brown phenomenon, lathered in salty, golden ambrosia that you pictured. Toast in boarding school is like boarding school. And like good literature. And like your perception of good grammar.
There's too much expectation and experience involved in all four to accept that there just might be a sense of unwelcome novelty.
Boarding school started off as a fantasy brought on by excessively fantastical children's literature and ended as something vaguely reminiscent of Stalin's Russia. Thanks, Enid Blyton. For presenting a world view as warped as the unchewable mess we get in the name of toast.
For godssake. Enid Blyton is held as the paragon of children's literature. Bite into one of her books as an adult with the surface ability too critically analyze a novel and you'll realize that you were being served a pile of LSD induced utopian horse shit that you devoured like M n Ms.
Good Golly.
As for Grammar. For goddsake, you TAKE an exam, you only GIVE an exam when you are the examinER. Unless you are an old man with a bald patch you desperately comb over with a few stray strands of hair and let your life be governed by the bells that haunted your schooldays, I don't see how you can GIVE an exam.
Incidentally, it's an error to say 'its an error'. You'd be wrong THERE if you said 'its THEY'RE' because it's THEIRS.
Fun fact. The internet began, around the time Neanderthals did, as a medium to access information. Also, the internet began, around the time Neanderthals decided to skip a few stages of evolution and jump right into Hipster, and to disintegrate into a form depicting lower intelligence.
Getting back to boarding school.
I really miss toast.
Incidentally, toast was just an accessory to a rant against human civilization, and the breadcrumbs they leave all over the internet.
They're soggy.
