Sara And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
No, your title isn't very original.
After my terrible day yesterday, I typed all this up, hoping for an outlet for my frustration and hopefully some nice, lovely sympathy to go with my tea, but LJ wouldn't let me. I almost felt like breaking down and crying Why do you hate me so, O Livejournal? WHY?
(I didn't, though, because I am the very picture of cool, clam and collected.)
Let me regale you with my excellent tale of the day that was yester:
My day began at 1 o'clock in the wee hours of the morn when I awoke to the worst headache one can have without one's brain exploding. It felt as though my brain was actually trying to escape my head, only instead of taking the easy route (for example, through my eyes or ears or nose), it decided it would pass through my skull. Needless to say, it only succeeded in making my head feel as though it were being sat on.
So, my darling mother gave me icepacks. This helped the swelling, but the ice-packs were made of hard plastic, and I woke up to another, entirely different headache.
So, up I get at some ungodly time in the morning to attend Hell, and my school pants and my big, warm jacket are in the wash, my school shoes have been missing for a month, and my bag is wet. I am late to school, and I have forgotten about SRC photos, so I have to run up to the photo room, then to the office to get a blazer, have my photo done (sans non-uniform shoes, of course), and run back to the office to return said blazer, and then go back on my merry way to art (for which I had not finished an assignment).
And then! You’d think it couldn’t get any worse, right? But I am accosted by my English 2 teacher, who is very hard to deal with on the best of days, on account of his grasp on reality, which is to say, he has none. I was meant to bring in a USB drive with my work on it, but I have lost my USB drive, and anyway, it doesn’t work on the school computers.
So I give my teacher a hard copy and say “I will email what I do in class today to myself.” Clear enough, right? WRONG! “Okay, now go email what you’ve done so far to me,” says my teacher.
“No,” I say. “I haven’t emailed it to myself. I am going to email what I do in class today to myself.”
“Well, do that later,” says my teacher, “and for now go an send what you’ve done to me.”
“No,” I say, “I haven’t done that yet.”
This goes on for about ten minutes. He gets denser. He then proceeds to lead me to the computer room, and I spend the whole time imagining his head erupting into something more pleasant, like thousands of tiny spiders, which is definitely more pleasant when dealing with someone you would like so dearly to smack.
It is not until I am almost sitting in front of the computer that I can manage to get through to him, “No, I have not emailed it to myself. I only have a hard copy.”
And this is only second period.
Actually, it gets a little better after that, especially once I have finished English 2 (life inevitably seems brighter when you have just finished an English 2 class), and am at lunch, despite the fact that my headache is starting to come back and I keep getting touched and jumped on which annoys me to no end. And later in Textiles, when I thought I lost my pattern and copied pattern pieces (I’d left them in Art during second period). And then I got to go home, which was infinitely better.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t, you know, the worst day ever had by anyone (I’m sure Socrates would agree), I mean, it’s not like I was accosted or raped or mugged or murdered, no puppies or small children were killed in front of me, but, you know, it was just one of those days that nevertheless make you want to kill yourself (or someone else). I just could not get on top of anything yesterday at all.
Hope everyone had a much better day than I. If yours was worse, don’t hesitate to tell me, and I shall be both sympathetic towards you, and mollified about my own day.
What's this? I hear you ask I thought this was a fic journal! No one cares about your emo day, you slag. Well, too bad. You want fic, you have to sit through my whinging.
All right, all right, I'll compromise. If this journal goes through I'll post you some fic tomorrow, okay? Maybe more than one, so shut up and eat your damn biscuit.
So, I am off to bed, in the futile attempts to leave the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (Yester)Day behind. And because it is late, and I am tired, and must return to Hell tomorrow.
Toodles.
(Also, have you noticed the new spiffyness of my journal? Rather spiffy, if I do say so myself. And I do. Often.)
After my terrible day yesterday, I typed all this up, hoping for an outlet for my frustration and hopefully some nice, lovely sympathy to go with my tea, but LJ wouldn't let me. I almost felt like breaking down and crying Why do you hate me so, O Livejournal? WHY?
(I didn't, though, because I am the very picture of cool, clam and collected.)
Let me regale you with my excellent tale of the day that was yester:
My day began at 1 o'clock in the wee hours of the morn when I awoke to the worst headache one can have without one's brain exploding. It felt as though my brain was actually trying to escape my head, only instead of taking the easy route (for example, through my eyes or ears or nose), it decided it would pass through my skull. Needless to say, it only succeeded in making my head feel as though it were being sat on.
So, my darling mother gave me icepacks. This helped the swelling, but the ice-packs were made of hard plastic, and I woke up to another, entirely different headache.
So, up I get at some ungodly time in the morning to attend Hell, and my school pants and my big, warm jacket are in the wash, my school shoes have been missing for a month, and my bag is wet. I am late to school, and I have forgotten about SRC photos, so I have to run up to the photo room, then to the office to get a blazer, have my photo done (sans non-uniform shoes, of course), and run back to the office to return said blazer, and then go back on my merry way to art (for which I had not finished an assignment).
And then! You’d think it couldn’t get any worse, right? But I am accosted by my English 2 teacher, who is very hard to deal with on the best of days, on account of his grasp on reality, which is to say, he has none. I was meant to bring in a USB drive with my work on it, but I have lost my USB drive, and anyway, it doesn’t work on the school computers.
So I give my teacher a hard copy and say “I will email what I do in class today to myself.” Clear enough, right? WRONG! “Okay, now go email what you’ve done so far to me,” says my teacher.
“No,” I say. “I haven’t emailed it to myself. I am going to email what I do in class today to myself.”
“Well, do that later,” says my teacher, “and for now go an send what you’ve done to me.”
“No,” I say, “I haven’t done that yet.”
This goes on for about ten minutes. He gets denser. He then proceeds to lead me to the computer room, and I spend the whole time imagining his head erupting into something more pleasant, like thousands of tiny spiders, which is definitely more pleasant when dealing with someone you would like so dearly to smack.
It is not until I am almost sitting in front of the computer that I can manage to get through to him, “No, I have not emailed it to myself. I only have a hard copy.”
And this is only second period.
Actually, it gets a little better after that, especially once I have finished English 2 (life inevitably seems brighter when you have just finished an English 2 class), and am at lunch, despite the fact that my headache is starting to come back and I keep getting touched and jumped on which annoys me to no end. And later in Textiles, when I thought I lost my pattern and copied pattern pieces (I’d left them in Art during second period). And then I got to go home, which was infinitely better.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t, you know, the worst day ever had by anyone (I’m sure Socrates would agree), I mean, it’s not like I was accosted or raped or mugged or murdered, no puppies or small children were killed in front of me, but, you know, it was just one of those days that nevertheless make you want to kill yourself (or someone else). I just could not get on top of anything yesterday at all.
Hope everyone had a much better day than I. If yours was worse, don’t hesitate to tell me, and I shall be both sympathetic towards you, and mollified about my own day.
What's this? I hear you ask I thought this was a fic journal! No one cares about your emo day, you slag. Well, too bad. You want fic, you have to sit through my whinging.
All right, all right, I'll compromise. If this journal goes through I'll post you some fic tomorrow, okay? Maybe more than one, so shut up and eat your damn biscuit.
So, I am off to bed, in the futile attempts to leave the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (Yester)Day behind. And because it is late, and I am tired, and must return to Hell tomorrow.
Toodles.
(Also, have you noticed the new spiffyness of my journal? Rather spiffy, if I do say so myself. And I do. Often.)