"A kiss on the cheek will not take care of everything but you'd better give it to me anyways, dear."
Today began like all days when I wake up before ten am do; badly. My cell phone alarm incorperated itself into my dream in the form of an actual alarm clock that refused to shut off. It was the kind with a cd player on top and it continued to ring even after I'd unplugged it, opened it up and taken the cd out. It was 'What is Love' by Hadaway, which is something I should look into changing. Having that song make a recurring appearance in my dreams is getting old. Just yesterday I dreamt that it was reverberating throughout this cathedral I just happened to be in.
My throat felt (and still feels) as if I have a golfball stuck down one side of it and my right ear is not much better. Swallowing is not easy and neither is yawning. Despite all of this, I decided that I ought to go to school, seeing as how I'd missed two days already and we were supposed to be starting Hamlet in College Comp.
So, with twenty minutes to spare, I got up and got dressed, had a cup of coffee and left.
After checking my phone I noted that Geoff had called at 3am and left a message, thus recounted; "Hi, you're probably not going to get this until the morning or maybe the afternoon, but I feel really bad about not paying attention to you earlier. I'm not a morning person especially when I don't wake up next to you. I'll call tomorrow and be attentive." then there was a pause and a sheepish "I love you." It sounded rehearsed, like he was reading lines, like maybe he'd gone over it a couple of times before making the call. A thought that simultaneously pissed me off and made me swoon.
Upon arrival to school I noticed that in the rush to get out the door I had completely forgotten my bag at home; a bad move if I was actually supposed to make it through the day. So mom and I turned around and she mentioned that it was a sign that I should have taken the knockoff dayquil medicine. I mentioned in response that I was going to be late to class and that she should come in with me and get them to give me a pass, so as to avoid me having a tardy on my record. She agreed on the condition that I take some medicine and eat a piece of bread to go along with it. So I did, and it was awful. Swallowing is a bitch. And on top of that, they said that I wasn't late enough to even need a pass and that I'd have to take a tardy.
I spent the entirety of first hour taking notes on the biography of William Shakespeare, a man whose very depressing life was revealed in his plays. I picked up Hamlet, went to newspaper and did research on hickman bands and local shows, asked people questions about what they like to eat (the resounding answer being "BACON!") and then spent an hour in study hall doodling and being bored.
Dustin and the girl who suddenly sits behind me passed notes all hour, which was annoying at the very least. At one point he turned to me and asked "You hate us, don't you?"
I simply shook my head at him and smiled slightly, recounting the note passing days of AP World, and all the middle people who had to help out, whether they wanted to or not, and how grateful I'd been to them. It's funny how things work out like that, I'm pretty sure it was karma.
I'm now in my fourth hour Newspaper Independent study, and should probably be researching local music stuff, but I thought I'd give this whole story telling how my day went thing a try. I've decided the purpose to keeping a journal is to be able to look back on it later and remember, rather than posting random poetry and sobbing requiems and looking back on it later and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
My throat felt (and still feels) as if I have a golfball stuck down one side of it and my right ear is not much better. Swallowing is not easy and neither is yawning. Despite all of this, I decided that I ought to go to school, seeing as how I'd missed two days already and we were supposed to be starting Hamlet in College Comp.
So, with twenty minutes to spare, I got up and got dressed, had a cup of coffee and left.
After checking my phone I noted that Geoff had called at 3am and left a message, thus recounted; "Hi, you're probably not going to get this until the morning or maybe the afternoon, but I feel really bad about not paying attention to you earlier. I'm not a morning person especially when I don't wake up next to you. I'll call tomorrow and be attentive." then there was a pause and a sheepish "I love you." It sounded rehearsed, like he was reading lines, like maybe he'd gone over it a couple of times before making the call. A thought that simultaneously pissed me off and made me swoon.
Upon arrival to school I noticed that in the rush to get out the door I had completely forgotten my bag at home; a bad move if I was actually supposed to make it through the day. So mom and I turned around and she mentioned that it was a sign that I should have taken the knockoff dayquil medicine. I mentioned in response that I was going to be late to class and that she should come in with me and get them to give me a pass, so as to avoid me having a tardy on my record. She agreed on the condition that I take some medicine and eat a piece of bread to go along with it. So I did, and it was awful. Swallowing is a bitch. And on top of that, they said that I wasn't late enough to even need a pass and that I'd have to take a tardy.
I spent the entirety of first hour taking notes on the biography of William Shakespeare, a man whose very depressing life was revealed in his plays. I picked up Hamlet, went to newspaper and did research on hickman bands and local shows, asked people questions about what they like to eat (the resounding answer being "BACON!") and then spent an hour in study hall doodling and being bored.
Dustin and the girl who suddenly sits behind me passed notes all hour, which was annoying at the very least. At one point he turned to me and asked "You hate us, don't you?"
I simply shook my head at him and smiled slightly, recounting the note passing days of AP World, and all the middle people who had to help out, whether they wanted to or not, and how grateful I'd been to them. It's funny how things work out like that, I'm pretty sure it was karma.
I'm now in my fourth hour Newspaper Independent study, and should probably be researching local music stuff, but I thought I'd give this whole story telling how my day went thing a try. I've decided the purpose to keeping a journal is to be able to look back on it later and remember, rather than posting random poetry and sobbing requiems and looking back on it later and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.