Procrastinating my paper for English on The Great Gatsby.
We’re only supposed to turn in drafts for completion grades tomorrow, so 1/4 of the juniors at my high school are currently doing search and replaces on papers about “The Odyssey,” “Macbeth,” and “Catcher in the Rye” and replacing Odysseus with Gatsby, Banquo with Nick, and all those freaking phonies with all those freaking drunks.
Jackass is going back to school until December.
Depressed little sister to the max.
My dad has totally infuriated me for years, and my mom and I have always been crazy tight… so it really sucks that now she pisses me off all the time. (I know I’m lucky to have ever had that at all and shouldn’t be whining… except this is an enormous change of pace for me and it’s difficult to deal with.)
And I’ve never lied to her, until now.
I lie to my dad all the time about frivolous crap. Mostly, it’s just blatant sarcasm. However, as far as he’s concerned, I’ve been PMS-ing for 17 straight months.
But with my mom, every time she asks “did I do something wrong?” or “would you mind if I watched TV with you?” or “am I annoying you?” (all pout-y, which is weak), I lie.
I know I’m lucky to have made it so long without being annoyed, not to mention, having really great parents, period, but this is such a huge change of pace. It’s difficult to deal with.
My MacBook Pro’s display (or I think just the backlight) isn’t working and a little bit of my heart is breaking. Or a big part. Depressing as HELL.
My last newspaper column of the year. Written in 1.5 hours, approved with out edits. I’ve gotten exceedingly positive feedback on it, so I hope you enjoy.
I am not a fan of sports. I’m strictly an Olympics watching, sports team trashing, concession stand creeping, lazy excuse for a P.E. student
Regardless, I give my best effort—even when that means acting like a complete lunatic.
A week or so ago, my P.E. class was up against a class of freshmen in a friendly game of pin elimination. And by friendly, I mean the dirtiest and most shameless playground-inspired game in high school history.
Suddenly, the gym was transformed into a battlefield—screams heavy with accusations and expletives. The sophomores were swearing like sailors while the freshmen appeared to be suffering from Gulf War Syndrome.
Pins were being knocked down, girls were screaming, people were jumping and diving, and I was afraid for my life. It was so bizarre that I half-expected it to turn into a scene from a musical. It might have been choreographed.
Everyone, including myself, was getting carried away. The game took up the entire class period, and everyone walked away from it with at least one new enemy.
And maybe I’m biased, but there were some particularly vocal freshmen who loved to point fingers and ignore their own rules. If you get so far carried away that you forget you’re playing a game, have a little dignity and don’t cry and complain when things go awry.
But how did we get to that point, anyway?
This mob mentality seems to be present in most games in P.E.
How is it that we get so wrapped up in these frivolous games that we end up making plays and strategies for kick ball and pin elimination? I’ve witnessed, on more than one occasion, something more akin to Hitler’s invasion of Poland than a P.E. class.
I know better than to ask why we all can’t just get along. Sports and games are competitions, and I understand the adrenaline rush that comes from winning. But when it comes down to high school physical education—why so serious?
I have my first final for my sophomore year tomorrow. English.
I can not believe the year’s over and I’m half way through high school.
Not a big deal to everyone else; it’s hardly monumental to anyone who isn’t in my class—but we’re all preposterously precocious.
Wish me luck.
I’m totally fucked on this thing tomorrow. (I haven’t really “studied”.)
Fuck that shit.
As a form of social protest (and a big “FUCK OFF” to the math department), I’ll show them by never once using limits or motherfucking logarithms and shit like that in my career. Because they care so much.
I want to be the Online Editor of a magazine or newspaper. Not a fucking mathematician, scientist, whatever.
(Did everyone enjoy their flashback to their high school years just now?!)
Friday night: muscle aches
Saturday: mild fever, muscle aches, exhaustion, lethargy, death wish
Sunday: exhausted
Monday: congested
Tuesday: congested, raspy voice. *THIS IS WHEN I MADE THE MISTAKE OF DOING MY SHAKIRA IMPRESSION. DUMB, DUMB, MOVE.*
Wednesday: lost voice. At this point, I sound like an emphysema patient.
Thursday: my voice is completely gone this time around. Everytime I try to speak, I sound like a dysfunctional whistle or something.
THIS SEEMS BACKWARDS.
I’m guessing that tomorrow, I’ll sound like a duck with laryngitis.
I got turned down to be Online Editor in Chief of the school paper because of the fact that I’ll only be a junior. AND, the person they chose doesn’t know HTML (and therefore CSS) and just stared at me when I started discussing different content managing systems so we aren’t incompetent jackasses using a program for people who don’t know what they’re doing. (Maybe this doesn’t qualify as “weird” so much as it does SHITTY.)
We go bowling on Tuesdays for P.E.. I got a 108, personal best. 3 strikes, 4srs.
I got asked out for the first time… ever.
I fought off like 6 panic attacks while IN newspaper.
I didn’t waste all of my time on the computer after school.
Seeing as my life is unbelievably dull, this is a freakishly weird day for me.
