Every Shining Time You Arrive.
There's a decent chance that I'll be suspended for a day next week. That is, if I don't clear up the fifteen lingering cuts I've been marked for. And they're not all for Math. Actually, about half of them are from those lost two months when I didn't go to Project Adventure. See, it's hatred that makes me miss class, not laziness. I'll probably ask my English teacher to sign off on them, just saying we've been working together during those periods. I can't afford to get suspended. "I'm small and white" was probably not the best thing to tell the attendance women, but it was all I could come up with at the time.
I had my appointment with the college advisor at school and my mother yesterday. It went really well, to my surprise and delight. The advisor's pulling for me to get into Hunter's Honors program in Manhattan. Tuition and housing is free, as is the laptop they'd supply me with. They've got a good writing program. And I wouldn't need to worry about selling my body for food during the week. I think that made my mother happy, too.
Everyone's been talking about prom lately. Understandably so, since it's only two months away. Part of me is excited, while part of me would love nothing more than to freeze time and slice it in half. I don't know where that would leave me, but sometimes it feels better than feeling bad. I do love shopping for dresses, though. I've been thinking about asking my father for a few hundred dollars for the limo and ticket, etc. He never gave me any alleged Christmas cash, so I suppose I'm not terribly far from parental consideration in the daddy department. The other thing I'm wondering about is the other thing I can't keep myself from unleashing in due time. But when is time up? Does it run out, overflow, or stall itself? If so, time sounds a hell of a lot like me.
Target had this three-pack of Hello Kitty candy bracelets that my mother's friend found for me, so I wore one to school today. After watching me bite off a piece of my jewelry, some boy asked if it was candy. I said no and turned away. Sometimes I love this place.
I just typed two more articles for Driver Ed. It's going fairly well, other than the occasional almost-fatal incidents here and there. I don't worry; this old psychic in Mystic once told me that I'd live into my eighties. Good to know, right? I just need to put myself out there that much more. Someone do me a favor and tattoo that last sentence to my forearm. I'll need a heavy reminder for the next few... well, forever, I guess. Shouldn't we always be moving forward?
I've been reading "When I Was Older" a lot lately. I always read it when big things are taking place, or when I feel like I need to know what I'd do, if only I knew myself a tiny bit better. If you've ever wondered how and why I am the way I tend to be, read me as Sophie. And you've pretty much gotten it.
I'm still really scared about my dentist appointment on Thursday afternoon. This thing in the back of my mouth isn't even a cavity. It's more like a chip, or even a hole. It's like trying to define an unknown variable. But I don't have any context clues to go by. Not this time. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't help. That sounds like an accurate depiction.
You just can't say "love" like it's a slogan, as if it's really going to get you from one place to another. Words are nothing without meaning. And meaning isn't much without the right words. I'm more than a hopeful hypocrite. Am I any worse than what's been done to me? It's disturbing to dream.
I had my appointment with the college advisor at school and my mother yesterday. It went really well, to my surprise and delight. The advisor's pulling for me to get into Hunter's Honors program in Manhattan. Tuition and housing is free, as is the laptop they'd supply me with. They've got a good writing program. And I wouldn't need to worry about selling my body for food during the week. I think that made my mother happy, too.
Everyone's been talking about prom lately. Understandably so, since it's only two months away. Part of me is excited, while part of me would love nothing more than to freeze time and slice it in half. I don't know where that would leave me, but sometimes it feels better than feeling bad. I do love shopping for dresses, though. I've been thinking about asking my father for a few hundred dollars for the limo and ticket, etc. He never gave me any alleged Christmas cash, so I suppose I'm not terribly far from parental consideration in the daddy department. The other thing I'm wondering about is the other thing I can't keep myself from unleashing in due time. But when is time up? Does it run out, overflow, or stall itself? If so, time sounds a hell of a lot like me.
Target had this three-pack of Hello Kitty candy bracelets that my mother's friend found for me, so I wore one to school today. After watching me bite off a piece of my jewelry, some boy asked if it was candy. I said no and turned away. Sometimes I love this place.
I just typed two more articles for Driver Ed. It's going fairly well, other than the occasional almost-fatal incidents here and there. I don't worry; this old psychic in Mystic once told me that I'd live into my eighties. Good to know, right? I just need to put myself out there that much more. Someone do me a favor and tattoo that last sentence to my forearm. I'll need a heavy reminder for the next few... well, forever, I guess. Shouldn't we always be moving forward?
I've been reading "When I Was Older" a lot lately. I always read it when big things are taking place, or when I feel like I need to know what I'd do, if only I knew myself a tiny bit better. If you've ever wondered how and why I am the way I tend to be, read me as Sophie. And you've pretty much gotten it.
I'm still really scared about my dentist appointment on Thursday afternoon. This thing in the back of my mouth isn't even a cavity. It's more like a chip, or even a hole. It's like trying to define an unknown variable. But I don't have any context clues to go by. Not this time. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't help. That sounds like an accurate depiction.
You just can't say "love" like it's a slogan, as if it's really going to get you from one place to another. Words are nothing without meaning. And meaning isn't much without the right words. I'm more than a hopeful hypocrite. Am I any worse than what's been done to me? It's disturbing to dream.