I apologize for not writing any note recently. There is just too much to do in too little time. :)

~~’~~’~*~*~~’~~’~~

I am angry with myself in recent times. I cannot seem to motivate. I have ‘Matura’ in a little over a month and instead of revising, I am doing everything but not studying (at least, not for the most needed subjects such as WOS and Polish). However, I am constantly writing analysis and interpretation of poetry and prose.

It is hard to obtain high score and I really don’t see myself getting these required 60%.

~~’~~’~*~*~~’~~’~~

I decided that theatre is not for me. It doesn’t get to me as the music seems to do. The actors are all sweating and excited on the scene, we (as watchers) are witnessing some creepy scene of crime or an intensive romantic one, and what with me? Completely nothing. I am unaffected. I don’t feel a thing and just sit there stony faced, waiting for the final. Hence, I decided against going to the theatre. I don’t benefit from these little escapades thus I will limit it to minimum.

I HAVE TO FIND SOMEONE WILLING TO GO WITH ME TO PHILHARMONIC. I NEED MUSIC! NOT WORDS!

I am very busy lately studying for my A-Level exams and school subjects. Sometimes it is hard to keep up and finish everything on time but I’m pleased since I haven’t been so active in years. I hope that at University will be the same. It’s good to have something that keeps you working, especially when you lack self-motivation.

But let's don’t talk about my studies…

I am planning on learning Latin. I know some basics but not nearly enough. After Matura I think I will seriously apply myself into the study of Latin language as the idea of reading many of classic writings in original is very enticing.

What's more, I am going to make true on my promise and write something in English. Maybe it won’t be perfect and mistake-free, however, it will give me more opportunity to practice my English skills.

:^)

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Język angielski matura z angielskiego Gramatyka angielska

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A POISON TREE
by: William Blake (1757-1827)

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunnèd it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.