into the midst of everything

12 Jan

, everything, everything, everything.

Well I certainly hope I can survive the rest of this week, as my mother is going to Palm Beach till Saturday for a business meeting.
My dad is extremely grumpy and irritable at the moment. He may or may not yell at me for not doing the dishes. Shittastic!

Well, I sat down to write about something and have forgotten quite what it is, so instead I’ll write about…um, how about my jotting journals? Ryan currently has one (and I’d kind of like it back soon), but I have four others, three of which are full of writing and drawing and song lyrics. Here’s a little excerpt from my ninth-grade one:
“Why were we forced to sit through a rescue in the evil heat for 30 minutes? Well…I don’t effing know… Stagger Lee is coming to Grind. I am going to crash and burn.”
“So last night, after the Women’s Coalition tennis tournament, I was eating some AWESOME Mexican food. And then a hot guy ran by with a camera. It was a pleasant surprise.”

I can’t write any more of the horseshit that is the rest of this book. I was a rather… Uh, let’s go with ‘special’- person back then. I had just gotten into Death Note. I was slowly beginning to draw much better. I also was completely obsessed with Shuggie, a problem I fixed recently.
On to tenth grade! Let’s see how much of a geek I was!
“16 Military Wives is going around and around in my head, like some sort of perverse merry-go-round. Good GRACIOUS, it’s obnoxious to the extreme. But it’s a good song- I just need to learn the words.”
“i can’t think right now my brain will soon turn off and psychadelic visions like carnival lights will swim before my sight and I will frolic with griffins and ocelots and Pepper the black pug(s) and we will paint a picture in the sky and be showered with daisies and people will think I am the neatest thing since sliced bread, even though sliced bread isn’t that neat in the first place, but it’s the thought that counts in love and in war if you play with a lion seaweed will grow in your stomach out of the frying pan into antsy pants through heat and cold and we will dance through the night and wake the people in the flat below us and we will not stop even if they hit the floor with a broom.”

I started writing more. The last sentence/paragraph is probably my favorite thing that I’d written in that time period.

Anyway, I’ll write more later, my thumbs are tired.

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