It's hard to be sixteen, American-Texan (I personally think that should count as an ethnic group all by itself, and while there's a whole state full of people who would agree, scholarship committee whatevers don't. Sigh.), 'officially' (when a homeschooler says 'officially', keep in mind that the officialdom in question was that one of the parents decided to say something loudly and possibly (but not necessarily) with a straight face. Tah-dah. It's as official as it ever gets around here) a senior, worrying about college and jobs and the approaching necessity of dates if I want to get married 'someday' (in, say, five or six years; forever away), and have a politically conscious mother who keeps bookmarking articles online for you to read.
In other words, I've been thinking about revolution. (Specifically the almost-revolution in Iran at the moment, but also just revolution in general.) I feel like I'm thinking thoughts too big for my head, and don't have words strong enough to hold them. It's at times like this that I'm reminded of the vast void of things I don't know that I don't know. I want to know, and I don't know where to start, and without the right words, I can't ask people to tell me because I have the sneaking suspicion that no one else really knows either. Or else they do and they're really good at hiding it.
Complete subject change: the Teacher and I are going through our bookshelves and putting together the ultimate (or is it penultimate?) list of things I need to do before I'm graduated. I expect my graduation to be as official as anything else around here, but it feels strange to know that there's only one year left. We're getting rid of a lot of stuff that the Teacher over-bought for younger grades. The problem with only children is that the learning curve doesn't have anyone to benefit.