  To sum up my day, Brian Eno, St Elmo's Fire, hastily written bullshit Eno hit single: "Brown eyes and I was tired; we had walked and we had scambled; through the moors and through the briars; through the endless blue meanders. " Later he describes St Elmo's fire as "splitting ions in the ether", a line that was either so sublime or so utterly daft that nobody of note has bothered to crib it.
What's the worst thing that can happen to you when you can go 100 WPM, have a 400-word essay to type out, and it's the night before you've got to turn it back to your teacher? That's right, it's happened. !@#!@#! @#!# Oh. I've found it again. The essay I've got to type was the also the one which I've scored my best mark ever.
But I don't really like it all that much. I was really squeezed for time, and I did the entire thing right in front of my English teacher, while half-listening into the lesson, talking rubbish with Kenn and company and so on. Which pressed me so much I just kept weaving lines and lines of totally senseless flowery expressions to fill up the lines. Don't tell me teacher I said that. Turns out it was the best composition I'd ever done, I got the highest marks for an essay she'd marked in two years, and it was read out in class - surely too flattering for something that was invented only upon necessity.
And bullshit, to include today's obligatory euphemism. And worse: she thought I had been listening to too many of her motivational tidbits, which is best described as modern Aesop's fables, sans talking animals. The truth was I'd (m)angled my story in such a way that the only way for me to redeem it was to end with something like "I had met kindness" and give it a conveniently cute title "Meeting Kindness", which were the last two words I wrote on that sheet of paper.
So it was all an accident, really. Kenn also had his much nicer story about swallows read out - lean and mean indeed, but mine gave new justice to the fact that you can bullshit your way through anything at all. But we'll see. 
