Your invitation to the dance

morning of September 4th, 1975 ~ 001
Why is it that when I'm in Charms I can write about Charms, when I'm in Transfiguration I can write about Transfiguration, and when I'm alert enough to focus in Astronomy I can write about that, but when I'm sitting here with a blank page of my journal and I'm in between situations, I cannot think of a single thing worth putting down? I suppose it must be the publicity and knowing that each of you can read my innermost thoughts if they are exposed so easily. Such a quandary, then, to discuss things and wonder if I should worry about being mocked or simply watch as the rest of you get into your arguments. I would have to say that the hospital wing should dispense calming draughts freely for those who like a spirited debate. It cannot be healthy to abuse capitals so.

On a different note, I'm writing this down more for my sake than anyone else's, but I shall have to ask Aunt Enid about the book she stowed in my trunk this year. It's almost entirely in Latin (as some of her first edition gifts are) but I'm not nearly as fluent in it as she might think. It's very difficult becoming fluent in a dead language, though it does help considerably with spells.

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