What a wonderfully productive day it has been!

Hurrah! Hallelujah! I finished my last night class course! This means I certainly graduate next month.

Finished watching the last Lord of The Rings film last night…and it was one that kept my eyes from blinking and increased my heartbeat…

Return of The King is the best one from the trilogy and it was all so what I would call “perfect”…until Sam.

(Spoilers, beware)

Sam is the fat hobbit friend of Frodo Baggins who really acts as his knight in shining armor as Frodo acts like a damsel in distress!

My sister put the idea in my head that Frodo and Sam were in love. I really believed that…I just loved them together! They slept next to each other…They caressed each other’s faces…

Anyway, it shattered my heart when Sam got married. You can’t just make three movies with two hobbits who are intimately close and expect us to believe Sam weds…a WOMAN!!!

Oh, how mad was I…I cringed! I looked away when he kissed his wife. “That should be Frodo.” I thought.

I believe they should make an editor’s cut or something…to show us the scenes that went over the PG-13 rating.

I expected Sam to join Frodo in the ship….How I wanted them to kiss for one last time!

hnjjj
Oh well.

Well, besides my incessant demands that they are a couple (which they are), I absolutely loved this last film. It brought reactions from me, such as tension, anger, sadness, laughter, and fear. Frodo turning invisible in Mount Doom made my sister and I scream at my television and I am still amazed at how strong Sam’s love was after all the crap Frodo made him go through. GO HOME, SAM!

Oh, and how I love Bilbo. And Gollum and his precious. And Aragorn rejecting that odious wench of a female Eowyn…Ah, and she having to see him kiss Arwen, aww. Sorry, Eowyn, he loves that Aerosmith child.

Legolas counts his kills.

(Spoilers over)

Anyway, I’m feeling grand. I filled out my voting registration form, which is something I’ve been planning to do for weeks when I could’ve easily done it online.

Now, what I have left to do is apply for that job…even though in the application I was thinking of just being honest and write that I do not want to start conversations with costumers or be involved in team work.

Pilkington-Hostel
Exactly.

Thank the lord I can get back to reading Gene Tierney’s autobiography…

Now that I finished my night course I can agree that I fail to write correctly in English. Well, professionally.

I must admit I have been so increasingly moody that I even flipped off this idiot driver today for taking our parking space, though I don’t think he saw me.

Picking weeds from my school’s garden drains my spirit. My hands get muddy, the bees make me run in fear, and the warm weather makes me feel like a Coca Cola bottle in the desert.

My dogs bite me everywhere…and seem to not understand that I do not like to be bothered when I am eating. I do love it when I come home and they attack me with a series of licks.

This is a post expressing relief. Worry about the night school courses was a daily torture of the classic fear of failure.

I was a bit distressed when my teacher took my notebook of test notes, so he could give me my grade…I wrote little things from excitement there about it being my last day in some of the little Finnish that I know. On the cover I had written, “My people were fair and had sky in their hair…but now they’re content to wear stars on their brows”…out of boredom.

I’m awfully tired…so now I will go and bid goodnight. I belieeeeeeve in angels….

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