I don't know, I just don't know
when they're coming back again
How many Jewish holidays can they make us go to school for? Today was a mess of videos and cancelled classes and general starvation.
Barely any of my friends were still there. Barely anyone was still there. I drifted between aquaintances and drew morbid pictures and shivered and felt bored. I stole a sandwich from the cafeteria and ate with Alex DaSilva and Tom O'Connor, who is awesome, and talked about how sound works. I still have no idea what kind of sandwich it was. I went to the library and finished another Seventh Son book and a whole weekend's worth of homework.
Blake Sills made me realize that I miss Legos; Ms. Reyes showed us a movie about the history of New York, and eventually broke out with "Is anyone but me incredibly bored?" and gave us gossip (or Bochinche, as she calls it) on Alexander Hamilton; Zippy saw me drawing while he graphed things and yelled "SHAME!" at the top of his voice. I jumped.
Oh, and I wrote a killer English paper that might morph into my Letter from the Editor during Jazz Vocal, which I cut. It was especially relieving because I killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. One paper for two requirements.
I want a tattoo. Behind my ear, where no one who doesn't know it's there can see it. A beautiful one.
I also want to cut my hair. Maybe not for a while. Maybe not until next year. But eventually.
I have a myspace now (clicky here). This makes me sad. I miss Friendster and last year and knowing what my friends thought about me.
I'm thinking of writing a play for the Youth Playwriting Competition. I need to enlist help. I'm not sure who to ask. Jennifer offered a while ago; I might take her up on it.
I spent a surprising amount of time today wishing that it were Friday, so I could see Harry. I sometimes worry that I'll go to college one day and realize that men as loving as him just aren't to be found. I still wonder where he came from. I didn't know he existed, and then boom!--there he was. Three weeks later we were dating.
Oops, getting nostalgic. Better stop now.
Have a picture. Or six.
yeah... Harry photographs well. I don't.
And yes, that was a miniature Houdini in a straitjacket. It's Renata's. Because she's cooler than me.
Edited in: I just went and had dinner at Otafuku with Lauren Taylor, the only other person who doesn't think I'm crazy for wanting to walk in the rain. Everyone could use a friend like Lauren--someone open and accepting who's genuinely interested in people and looks for their good parts, overlooking the bad ones. I forgot how much I missed her until I saw her again. I don't have much time to blog right now, but I know I'm definately not going to many thrift markets alone from now on.
Barely any of my friends were still there. Barely anyone was still there. I drifted between aquaintances and drew morbid pictures and shivered and felt bored. I stole a sandwich from the cafeteria and ate with Alex DaSilva and Tom O'Connor, who is awesome, and talked about how sound works. I still have no idea what kind of sandwich it was. I went to the library and finished another Seventh Son book and a whole weekend's worth of homework.
Blake Sills made me realize that I miss Legos; Ms. Reyes showed us a movie about the history of New York, and eventually broke out with "Is anyone but me incredibly bored?" and gave us gossip (or Bochinche, as she calls it) on Alexander Hamilton; Zippy saw me drawing while he graphed things and yelled "SHAME!" at the top of his voice. I jumped.
Oh, and I wrote a killer English paper that might morph into my Letter from the Editor during Jazz Vocal, which I cut. It was especially relieving because I killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. One paper for two requirements.
I want a tattoo. Behind my ear, where no one who doesn't know it's there can see it. A beautiful one.
I also want to cut my hair. Maybe not for a while. Maybe not until next year. But eventually.
I have a myspace now (clicky here). This makes me sad. I miss Friendster and last year and knowing what my friends thought about me.
I'm thinking of writing a play for the Youth Playwriting Competition. I need to enlist help. I'm not sure who to ask. Jennifer offered a while ago; I might take her up on it.
I spent a surprising amount of time today wishing that it were Friday, so I could see Harry. I sometimes worry that I'll go to college one day and realize that men as loving as him just aren't to be found. I still wonder where he came from. I didn't know he existed, and then boom!--there he was. Three weeks later we were dating.
Oops, getting nostalgic. Better stop now.
Have a picture. Or six.
yeah... Harry photographs well. I don't.
And yes, that was a miniature Houdini in a straitjacket. It's Renata's. Because she's cooler than me.
Edited in: I just went and had dinner at Otafuku with Lauren Taylor, the only other person who doesn't think I'm crazy for wanting to walk in the rain. Everyone could use a friend like Lauren--someone open and accepting who's genuinely interested in people and looks for their good parts, overlooking the bad ones. I forgot how much I missed her until I saw her again. I don't have much time to blog right now, but I know I'm definately not going to many thrift markets alone from now on.
posted by VVM at 12:33 PM
3 New Ideas
New Ideas:-
Harris Wolf thinks...
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- 10:29 PM
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Anonymous thinks...
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- 9:20 PM
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Anonymous thinks...
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- 8:03 PM
heh... two things dear.
1.
I didn't magically appear... I was there since kindergarten!
I saw you all the time in school!
I think that maybe you just don't look around very much?
*Grin*
and
2.
Nooo tatoooo!!
please?
-lurve Bogo-boy
omg yes, thank you. what is wrong with people. i may not really want to walk in the rain, but like, what is wrong with getting wet. my parents are like TAKE AN UMBRELLA and i'm like whats the difference i'm gonna get wet anyways, UMBRELLAS DONT WORK. and sometimes i like the rain, dammit. argh. experience the natureness, people. and tatoo? why behind your ear? that will hurt like, ridiculously and whenever you want to see it you have to like, contort yourself in front of a mirror. and then when you're eighty people will be like "ah! there is a gross infection behind your ear!" and you'll be like "oh, thats just my really ancient tatoo." and you cant remove it unless you cut off your ear. and if you try to the remover guy is gonna be like "wtf." so that is my argument. but lets chill in the rain. and i want to chill with this lauren person, she sounds chill. she shoud teach about this overlooking bad stuff in people you speak of. maybe that would cure my cynicism, teehee. and dude, that houdini thing is creepy. omg remember the poe? maaaaan that poe had some mad edge, dude. POE. yeah poe. yeah. and omg we're reading all this william blake shit in english and i'm like haha, its all veronica like. except my english teacher is annoying and she's like, annoying. i'll tell u about her sometime. ya.
No. You really don't want a tatoo...at least, not behind your ear. I had a friend who got one on her ankle, and she said it was fourty-five minutes of pure agony...do you really want to happen behind your ear?
It was good to see you and Harry again...we'll have to do it again next time Im in town.
--Zack
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