Tests

Okay, first, yeah, it's been way too long since my last post. Now, on to what really matters.

That word in the subject line basically sums up my entire week last week, both on an academic and personal level. The week begain with the SAT. Let me just relieve my mind and say that that test is the slowest, cruelest most borring form of torture in the academic world ever devised by mankind. At least, it is when it's modified. I had it in Braille (no duh), and when you take it in Braille, you get 100% extended time, which means you have to take it in two days. And it's so stupid because I only tested until around one o'clock both days; I could have done the whole thing and just had it over with. By the time I was done on the second day, I was so exhausted I was worthless for the rest of the day. I had a surprise Spanish quiz in sixth period, and though I usually do fairly well in Spanish, I bet I failed that one. When I got home, I slept. For four solid hours. Dad said he came up to my room to see how it had gone and knocked several times and finally opened the door...I never heard a single thing.

Then I had a math test the day after next. Then, as soon as I got done with that, I had a Spanish test, and a Civics test. And then another Spanish quiz. Test and more tests.

And that's not even to go into the personal stuff. I've been trying to read the Dragonlance Chronicles. I spent the weekend at my maternal grandmother's, and that's always a test of self-control. Long story.

I got through the first two books, but in the beginning of the third, the authors kill off over half the main characters! It's depressing. I was reading it on the way back from Grandma's, and when I got home I started thinking, I could never do this, as an author. Then I began wondering about strength. Can I write about darkness and despair, even in the amounts necessary to a story, to get the point across? Can I stand that, when I'm not meant for darkness? And how can I write about other people's darkness and help them overcome it when I can't deal with my own? And that thought, of course, awoke my darkness and brought it bearing down on me. I've been fighting depression off and on for several months now; after the first really horrible bout back in November, it's usually been relatively mild, but there have been things that have aggravated it. At least, that's what I thought. But Saturday night, when I arrived home, I saw it clearly for the first time, and knew, as much as I didn't want to admit it, that its roots were spiritual. I won't go into details; I'll just say that I did a lot of Psalm-reading and had a long talk with God and there were quite a few tears involved. And now, after that, for the first time in months, I am truly at peace. Not lifted above my troubles or anything like that--that only happens in stories and legends--but at peace, as much as one can be in a fretful and troubled world.

Tomorrow begins another week of school and tribulations. I don't say trials any more. There is a perceptive and brilliant and very amazing author of LOTR fanfiction who described tribulation, in the words of one of her original characters (the mother of a young Hobbitess with Down syndrome--or I should say, who was "moon-touched," in Middle-earth terms) as some hardship that is overcome. This mother named her daughter Tribulation for that reason, and little Tribbals grew up and proved it true. If she can do it, and hope and love and succeed, shouldn't everyone try to do as she did and bless the world with what they have, and not waste their time wishing and fretting their life away? Yes, I think so.

And if anyone is interested, here is the link to that so-precious story; you should really check it out, it's so inspiring:

http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=4944