High School drama sucks.
Ok, so Winter Formal was this past weekend and it was my first high school dance without two of my best buds. I suppose you could call them my equivalent wing men - er...girls...
Anywho, so because Angie, Monty's girlfriend, and Chris, Linzi's boyfriend were both at Confirmation, Monty and Linzi went together. I went with Clifford. Needless to say, all hell broke loose the moment we arrived. Linzi and Monty didn't sit together at dinner. Linzi wanted to take a couple picture with Monty (for some reason unknown to all of us) and he didn't want to. That's when the moodiness began.
Some background info: apparently Linzi had a crush on Monty at some point or another and he thought that by dancing with her, she would take it the wrong way. He also didn't want to dance with her because of his relationship with Angie.
So, because Monty wouldn't slow dance with her, Linzi slow danced with Clifford. yes, I know, wasn't he my date? He was, but for the sake of hopefully getting rid of some drama, I just let her dance with him. Yeah, I didn't get to dance with him at all, but that's ok, I suppose. 'Tis the story of my life.
Anywho...when I asked if I could do anything to help, Linzi told me that the "least I could do was ask Monty what was going on." So, because I knew already his reasons (he'd told me before we took our group picture), I told him that he should talk to Linzi. I convinced him to do it that moment, so they went outside to talk.
They came back in, and the first thing Monty said to me was that Linzi thought that I was "scolding him for no reason at all." At that point, I realized what she was doing and I gave up.
The rest of the night was just depressing. Monty had the courtesy to ask me if I wanted his jacket because it was freezing outside (several of us decided to sit outside and extract ourselves from the rest). I denied, of course, because I didn't want to wear a sports jacket over my dress, not to mention that I wasn't that cold.
My Jellies dug into the backs of my feet on the way out and Craig, Emily's date, offered to carry me. I denied again, because I'm pretty sure I weigh MORE than he does. Anywho, some of us went to Denny's, as is our tradition.
Emily was wearing Craig's jacket and she fell asleep on his shoulder. He helped her out of the Ghetto-mo-van and walked her to the door. He even let me use his shoulder to lean on when we were waiting for my mom to unlock said Ghetto-mo-van. Just watching he and Emily made me depressed. I know it's not Emily's fault that she gets all the nice guys, but just once, I'd like a nice, non-creepy, guy that I actually pick out myself. Not someone that picks me, or someone who bestows me with the privilege of being the girl that he likes. That's not good enough. I have to like them back. And a nice guy like Craig would never like a girl like me. Which is why Winter Formal was just frakking depressing.
And now that I'm done; I can finally post this and hope that no one involved in this reads it and gets offended and then proceeds to become angered with me.
Cheers.
Monday, February 11, 2008
High School Drama - ugh.
7:31 PM — — 1 Talking Parrots — Knick Knacks: life
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Busy, Busy, Busy
2:37 PM — — 2 Talking Parrots — Knick Knacks: life, procrastinationI suppose that's what I am. Busy, busy, busy. As I sit here, in my chair, typing this, I admit I am procrastinating. There is much work for APUSH to be done, as I have missed an entire week of school due to a rather unpleasant infestation of germs.
Ah, stomach flu. It sucks, to summarize it quickly.
Angie's 17th is on Monday. I don't know how many days it'll mark of the beginning of her and Monty's relationship. I seem to have lost track over the period of one week. Needless to say, she left the founder triangle of the L.O. to be with him, leaving Emma and I as the only single original founders of our somewhat satiristic group. Though, it doesn't mean much to say that only one of the three has left the nest. Two still remain and together, Emma and I make up a healthy and somewhat disturbing percentage of 66.666666....
Yes, that's quite a lot of 6's there.
My poetry talents have seemed to abandon me this past year. Perhaps they were like the powers of the girls who were not chosen for the Order, for any of you who have read Libba Bray's amazing Emma Doyle trilogy. The girls who were not chosen for a higher calling found that their brief lance of power extinguished after a short-lived flare. Perhaps my poetry is like their power: a brief flare of creative beauty that was extinguished because I was not chosen for the higher calling. Though, to refer to poetry as a higher calling is likely an opinion that is in the eye of the beholder. Regardless, my metaphor stands.
I have come to the conclusion that school deliberately teaches us subjects that bore us. While history fascinates me, I have no wish to read about depressions, gold/silver debates, or Native American revolts. Nor do I wish to learn any further how to analyze Abraham Lincoln's tone during his Gettysburg speech. Will it help me further my efforst to become successful in life? I doubt it. When I am in a job interview years from now, I doubt they will ask me how Grover Cleveland reacted to the Pullman Strike in 1894, or why I believe Ray Bradbury should or shouldn't be included in the American Canon.
Ugh, the indoctrination disgusts me, as does the petty idealisms and ideologies that are seemingly stuffed down my throat every day. But I know that after I am done with this entry, I shall only return to my task of dutifully completing my study guide and essay questions, and then move on to the extra credit focus assignment. Because I am a good little teenager and I follow the orders that society, and my superiors, have given me.
Ah, stomach flu. It sucks, to summarize it quickly.
Angie's 17th is on Monday. I don't know how many days it'll mark of the beginning of her and Monty's relationship. I seem to have lost track over the period of one week. Needless to say, she left the founder triangle of the L.O. to be with him, leaving Emma and I as the only single original founders of our somewhat satiristic group. Though, it doesn't mean much to say that only one of the three has left the nest. Two still remain and together, Emma and I make up a healthy and somewhat disturbing percentage of 66.666666....
Yes, that's quite a lot of 6's there.
My poetry talents have seemed to abandon me this past year. Perhaps they were like the powers of the girls who were not chosen for the Order, for any of you who have read Libba Bray's amazing Emma Doyle trilogy. The girls who were not chosen for a higher calling found that their brief lance of power extinguished after a short-lived flare. Perhaps my poetry is like their power: a brief flare of creative beauty that was extinguished because I was not chosen for the higher calling. Though, to refer to poetry as a higher calling is likely an opinion that is in the eye of the beholder. Regardless, my metaphor stands.
I have come to the conclusion that school deliberately teaches us subjects that bore us. While history fascinates me, I have no wish to read about depressions, gold/silver debates, or Native American revolts. Nor do I wish to learn any further how to analyze Abraham Lincoln's tone during his Gettysburg speech. Will it help me further my efforst to become successful in life? I doubt it. When I am in a job interview years from now, I doubt they will ask me how Grover Cleveland reacted to the Pullman Strike in 1894, or why I believe Ray Bradbury should or shouldn't be included in the American Canon.
Ugh, the indoctrination disgusts me, as does the petty idealisms and ideologies that are seemingly stuffed down my throat every day. But I know that after I am done with this entry, I shall only return to my task of dutifully completing my study guide and essay questions, and then move on to the extra credit focus assignment. Because I am a good little teenager and I follow the orders that society, and my superiors, have given me.
Quite recently, my younger brother got a cellphone that my father has not been told about. He is allowed to text message. I am not. Admittedly, it was one of the few times I have ever felt a flare of jealousy towards him. Usually, I expect that it is the other way around, as my father seems to give me the techno-savvy objects. I realize, though, that while I may sneer at my brother for using that as an excuse to get things from my mother, he is partially right, and I do nothing right when I flaunt said items in front of him on a constant basis instead of sharing. In the future, I shall attempt to provide for him what my father will not.
Unfortunately, while I receive all the techno-savvy instruments, my brother receives most of my father's leisure time. Even today, they are out fishing together. I hate fishing. But at the same time, I would rather be here, home alone in my room, than out there with family.
Goodness, the quality of parents seems to have gone down. Some of them are so unintelligent that you need to repeat yourself more than once, rewording everything you're trying to tell them in layman's terms so that they understand you. They have the audacity to think that because they've lived in the world longer than we have, they are automatically more intelligent than we, the inferior young adults. Droll, to say the least. Especially when they do not understand the function of ctrl+alt+delete.
Other than a week with the stomach flu, I don't have much to report on my personal life. I likely caught the bug whilst in Las Vegas with my cousins, who both had the same cold that my father and I had. My cousin and I went to Mandalay Bay to see Mamma Mia! which was exceedingly impressive. I am forever a fan of Abba music, now.
This month, I shall return to Las Vegas, should my health allow it, and see Phantom with two of my aunts, and hopefully the same cousin I went to Mamma Mia! with. One of my aunts that will join me has traveled to Las Vegas from her home in Australia and I have not seen her for many, many years. I don't even recall her appearance, as I cannot remember ever meeting her before.
I got a haircut over the holiday break. Bangs. I must admit, I cannot imagine how I functioned without them before. They provide a wonderful shield to hide my lack of self-confidence when it comes to my forehead.
Other than that, there is simply nothing to report, so I shall leave the few who actually read this now with a simple wish that you do not catch whatever bug infested me. Good day.
+Eurydice+
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