Well. That went well, didn't it?
Just like with NaNoWriMo last November, my blogging plans were torn asunder by drama club. I'm not too upset about it because I had fun when I was doing BEDA and Photo a day in April regularly and when I was not. I liked blogging a lot and I think that I will continue with it more regularly. Especially now since I'm so close to graduating and all. I would like to have a record of that if only for myself. I have written a couple posts like that this year and then didn't publish them when I realized they were just for me so we'll see. (Rhyme. Teehee.)
I ended my first post this month with these lines:
"Eliot said that April is the cruelest month. The school
librarian tells me that if you can get through March then you can get
through to Summer. We'll see who's right."
Having made it through March this year and all but five and a half hours of April I can say that Eliot was wrong.
April has not been a picnic. In fact, I did not have one picnic. It has been confusing and stressful and tiring but so far it has not been as bad as March. And as I read T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" today, 9th period at the creek, I knew that April can be cruel when it mixes memory and desire, but it's not the cruelest. March is an Indian Giver, presenting you with gifts and then snatching them away, leaving you in the dark. And a mix of memory and desire and lilacs in dead land are not nearly as bad as that. April hurts, but in a satisfying way.