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THIS IS WHERE LENNARD HID YOUR STOLEN MOTHER.
SO I WAS THINKIN ABOUT WRITING HOW MY LAST FEW DAYS AT SCHOOL HAVE BEEN. BUT THEN I REALIZED THAT IT WAS ALL IN THE PAST, AND YOU'VE GOTTA MOVE ON, MAN. STUFF THAT LONG AGO DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE. HELL, FIVE SECONDS AGO DOESN'T EVEN MATTER ANYMOAR (that typo was entirely on purpose; I mean every typo I don't spell correctly). BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK TO THAT MOMENT. I CAN'T GO BACK TO THAT MOMENT THIRTY SECONDS AGO WHEN I TOOK A SIP OF ORANGE JUICE FROM MY DELIGHTFULLY BLUE CUP. THAT'S WHY YOU MUST CHERISH EVERY SINGLE EFFIN' MILLISECOND OF YOUR LIFE. HOARZ.
Noaw that my capslock-induced analyzation of time and life in general is over, I shall move on. Because that is what you must do when the past has moved on. Yes. I'll stfu about time and life and the deep, psychological meaning behind the production of toothpaste commercials now.
SO TODAY, oh sorry. No, I will not use capslock to emphasize meaningless words. Nor will I use smilies. Ever. I am a mature and sophisticated young lady now.
LOL BET I SCARED YOU NYAHAHAHAH, but no seriously. no more caps lock or smile-inducing smilies.
Okay, moving on. Because that is what you must do when the past is behind you. Alright, so today was pretty good, I guess. For the most part. A scant shimmer of glorified happiness, personified in the form of cookies and rainbows. But not really. More like the empitome of agony woe in the form of back-breakingly heavy textbooks and the promise of large quanities of homework. Doesn't that sound pleasant? Yes, folks, your dear Niltiac has quite a lot of shit to do, not just homework-wise. Actually, I was supposed to be attending this little skit thing at my school, titled "A Charlie Brown Christmas" (how original, eh?), because a dear friend of mine is participating in it. But that is no more for my Aunt and Uncle have come to visit and dinner is being cooked at the moment and God only knows (heck, maybe he doesn't even know) how long it will take that to be accomplished. (I'm guessing between eight o' clock and never) So, sadly, I'm not going to be able to go. Have to call her later to apoligize sincerely instead of just waiting until tomorrow and saying, "Oh! Damn! I couldn't go, sorry I was so inconsiderate enough to not give you a ring and tell." lamely.
Went to psychology club today, where I and fellow psychology club peers listened to a friend's sister talk about her job as a teacher at a school for children with various forms and degrees of mental retardation (I'm sorry, Cognatative Disease, is what it's called now?). I actually found it very interesting. So, that ate up all of Flex, but thankfully I was able to eat. Math was full of unjoyfulness (surprisingly) as I was completely owned by my own math quiz. Thankfully, my teacher is giving us a take-home quiz tomorrow and the better grade of the two will be added up in our average. I'm planning on getting a hundred. Don't L-O-L at me, it's not polite. History was full of suckage. Had to outline the first two sections of an effin' chapter (which had to be finished for homework, depression ensues), but I guess it's not so bad seeing as a few friends of mine have to outline on a nearly daily basis. But, good ol' Mr. Hull gave us another project to do, right after he assigned a five page essay! Let's all jump for joy!(shoot me please) An essay of which the rough draft is due this Thursday. Even better. English was somewhat amusing, continued reading the Odyssey. Diagrams via whiteboard were needed in order to explain to the stupids what Odysseus' plan was for escaping the Cyclops, Polyphemus, after they masacred his single, solitary eye into a mass of blood and other oozing liquids (paints a pretty picture, doesn't it?) Gym.
....Fun, actually. We played thisretarded stupid alternate version of soccer. We were separated into two halves (we meaning the freshman and sophomores, all mixed together into said halves, not split together like each was a different species that would work it out like two male beta fish in a violent display of flashy, finny colors ((okay, what the hell? Worst analogy ever, much?)) so both had to be separated in order to prevent many casualties.), one half on one side of the gym and the other half on the other side. Boy girl boy girl line setup for each side, each of us given different numbers which could make one feel as if they're being forever branded like a herd of cattle. Gym teacher would call, oh, let's say, numbers six through twelve, and if the number applied to you, then you would go out in the middle of the gym, as well as the apposing side. The leftovers would stand on their respected sides of the gym and block any incoming obnoxiously neon-orange ball coming their way, in order to defend the goal. Which was really just the space past the line of people. Those people could block with an of their extremeties in order to block said ball. Hands, feet, head, ect. Now, if you were one of the ones lucky enough to be called out into the middle of the gym, you would have to try to kick the obnoxiously neon-orange ball into the other side's goal without ever, ever, ever, effing ever using your hands, and if you failed to abide by these simple rules, you would get a penalty which results in the opposite side getting a freebie shot into your goal. So, there's the rules in excruciating detail. Let's get to the good stuff.
So, I'm number one (Hear that, bitches?!), so, obviously I'm called out first with the rest of the people and that's just a waste of time, as I - and the other girls who were with me - felt entirely useless because the rough n' rowdy boys are kicking each other's shins out trying to kick the ball and/or pass it to other teammates. Many people fell, but thankfully none were really kicked. Not exactly, at least. Although this one who was a sophomore and resembled a finalist for "Who Wants to be the Next Backstreet Boy?!" got hurt bad enough that he was limping and required ice. And he still wanted to play. What a trooper.
Oh, yeah. It was vicious.
So, the next time I get called out, it's somewhere-in-the-middle-of-the-teens to one. One. As in me. So, I go out to the center of the gym like a good, well-trained little studious Catholic-school attending student and look around me.
I'm surrounded by sophomores.
....
As in, I'm the only freshman out on court.
....
...Shit. I felt so out of place. But it was so fun. So, so, so fun. I don't stand there like a useless idiot like I normally would. I'mkicking ass attempting to kick some ass. But it's okay. Because I'm trying my ass off. I nearly get my legs kicked out underneath me then I nearly get sandwhiched inbetween these two behemoth-sized guys as the ball is passed to me from one of my fellow peers on my side of the gym (oh, yeah, if you were on the line and caught the ball, you have to throw it out to one of your teammates. Or, if you didn't know who they were, just throw the ball out to someone and hope that he/she is on your team). I was very happy. Because I was enjoying myself, something that never happens in gym. It made me feel nice inside.
Hmm, I should get to work on that birthday card I need to make for a friend of mine for tomorrow. Because tomorrow is her birthday. I thought it was the nineteeh, but that was someone else. Whoops.
On a closing note, I'm almost done with Okami~! Celebrate! Give me kudos, give me candy, give me other pleasant things in congratulations! The thing is, I had been ignoring it for quite some time because there was this part that I didn't feel like doing one day and I didn't get back to it until Saturday. Got passed all of the stuff I hadn't felt like doing earlier (which turned out to be pathetically easy), then had to turn it off for reasons I don't remember. But then I got back to it last night and was up until past ten playing the crap out of it in between bonding time with my Aunt and Uncle (just an FYI, they're not the married kind of Aunt and Uncle. They're the kind of we're-siblings-and-have-that-platonic-so
P.S.- I hate my printer to the degree that I often have the urges to smash it into technological death with a steel baseball bat then hurl it out the window into the face of someone I don't like. It makes these horrid noises when it turns on which would give off the impression to someone unknowing that it's possessed. And then it doesn't stop even when I threaten to pour a glass of water on it. Which has nothing to do with the fact that it's an inanimate object and incapable of portraying emotion or displaying reactions to threats. I honestly don't know what's the matter with it. Maybe it is possessed. Maybe I'll wake up one morning to see it bent over me with its cord wrapped around my throat.
refreshedNoaw that my capslock-induced analyzation of time and life in general is over, I shall move on. Because that is what you must do when the past has moved on. Yes. I'll stfu about time and life and the deep, psychological meaning behind the production of toothpaste commercials now.
SO TODAY, oh sorry. No, I will not use capslock to emphasize meaningless words. Nor will I use smilies. Ever. I am a mature and sophisticated young lady now.
LOL BET I SCARED YOU NYAHAHAHAH, but no seriously. no more caps lock or smile-inducing smilies.
Okay, moving on. Because that is what you must do when the past is behind you. Alright, so today was pretty good, I guess. For the most part. A scant shimmer of glorified happiness, personified in the form of cookies and rainbows. But not really. More like the empitome of agony woe in the form of back-breakingly heavy textbooks and the promise of large quanities of homework. Doesn't that sound pleasant? Yes, folks, your dear Niltiac has quite a lot of shit to do, not just homework-wise. Actually, I was supposed to be attending this little skit thing at my school, titled "A Charlie Brown Christmas" (how original, eh?), because a dear friend of mine is participating in it. But that is no more for my Aunt and Uncle have come to visit and dinner is being cooked at the moment and God only knows (heck, maybe he doesn't even know) how long it will take that to be accomplished. (I'm guessing between eight o' clock and never) So, sadly, I'm not going to be able to go. Have to call her later to apoligize sincerely instead of just waiting until tomorrow and saying, "Oh! Damn! I couldn't go, sorry I was so inconsiderate enough to not give you a ring and tell." lamely.
Went to psychology club today, where I and fellow psychology club peers listened to a friend's sister talk about her job as a teacher at a school for children with various forms and degrees of mental retardation (I'm sorry, Cognatative Disease, is what it's called now?). I actually found it very interesting. So, that ate up all of Flex, but thankfully I was able to eat. Math was full of unjoyfulness (surprisingly) as I was completely owned by my own math quiz. Thankfully, my teacher is giving us a take-home quiz tomorrow and the better grade of the two will be added up in our average. I'm planning on getting a hundred. Don't L-O-L at me, it's not polite. History was full of suckage. Had to outline the first two sections of an effin' chapter (which had to be finished for homework, depression ensues), but I guess it's not so bad seeing as a few friends of mine have to outline on a nearly daily basis. But, good ol' Mr. Hull gave us another project to do, right after he assigned a five page essay! Let's all jump for joy!
....Fun, actually. We played this
So, I'm number one (Hear that, bitches?!), so, obviously I'm called out first with the rest of the people and that's just a waste of time, as I - and the other girls who were with me - felt entirely useless because the rough n' rowdy boys are kicking each other's shins out trying to kick the ball and/or pass it to other teammates. Many people fell, but thankfully none were really kicked. Not exactly, at least. Although this one who was a sophomore and resembled a finalist for "Who Wants to be the Next Backstreet Boy?!" got hurt bad enough that he was limping and required ice. And he still wanted to play. What a trooper.
Oh, yeah. It was vicious.
So, the next time I get called out, it's somewhere-in-the-middle-of-the-teens to one. One. As in me. So, I go out to the center of the gym like a good, well-trained little studious Catholic-school attending student and look around me.
I'm surrounded by sophomores.
....
As in, I'm the only freshman out on court.
....
...Shit. I felt so out of place. But it was so fun. So, so, so fun. I don't stand there like a useless idiot like I normally would. I'm
Hmm, I should get to work on that birthday card I need to make for a friend of mine for tomorrow. Because tomorrow is her birthday. I thought it was the nineteeh, but that was someone else. Whoops.
On a closing note, I'm almost done with Okami~! Celebrate! Give me kudos, give me candy, give me other pleasant things in congratulations! The thing is, I had been ignoring it for quite some time because there was this part that I didn't feel like doing one day and I didn't get back to it until Saturday. Got passed all of the stuff I hadn't felt like doing earlier (which turned out to be pathetically easy), then had to turn it off for reasons I don't remember. But then I got back to it last night and was up until past ten playing the crap out of it in between bonding time with my Aunt and Uncle (just an FYI, they're not the married kind of Aunt and Uncle. They're the kind of we're-siblings-and-have-that-platonic-so
P.S.- I hate my printer to the degree that I often have the urges to smash it into technological death with a steel baseball bat then hurl it out the window into the face of someone I don't like. It makes these horrid noises when it turns on which would give off the impression to someone unknowing that it's possessed. And then it doesn't stop even when I threaten to pour a glass of water on it. Which has nothing to do with the fact that it's an inanimate object and incapable of portraying emotion or displaying reactions to threats. I honestly don't know what's the matter with it. Maybe it is possessed. Maybe I'll wake up one morning to see it bent over me with its cord wrapped around my throat.