Not now, I'm creating!
So, my creative writing teacher wants us to write about half an hour every day. That's not going to happen, but I figure updating this thing a few times a week wouldn't be so bad and might help me, too. This was the first official week of school, and so far it's really not that bad. I don't see any of my classes being that hard, but none of them are going to be really easy, either. Film is interesting, and I'm probably going to learn a lot, but it doesn't seem so in depth that I won't be able to keep up. Creative writing should be interesting, and about halfway through this semester I hope to get a really good feel of just how far I want to take this whole "English" thing as far as the rest of my life is concerned. Criminology sounds interesting, and the guy teaching it seems to really know his stuff, being all over the force for many years. Accounting's going to suck, but that's because it's accounting. If push comes to shove, a friend of the family's a CPA and owes me a favor. I've already dropped health. I didn't even make it one day in that bullshit class, I walked out early and dropped it from my schedule and then returned the book for a full refund. The class sounded like it would go over everything we went over in high school health classes, and nothing new. That wasn't the problem. The problem was the assignments she told us we'd do over the semester. I was expecting a speech and a group piece of shit, but oh no, that would be too easy. We would have one on-campus activity to go to and write about, one off-campus activity, a partner presentation on a topic, a group presentation on a topic, as well as a folder of classwork. All of this was going to be meticulously graded, and if one thing was off, say a bibliography was formatted incorrectly, you got a zero on the assignment. Also, she told us that if one person in the group did not do their part, the entire group would be held responsible. After what happened over the summer, I know that shit like that happens all the time and wasn't about to get a C in general concepts in health and break my back for this piece of shit class. So I calmly walked out during a break and never looked back.
Emily is finally kicking it into gear, and most of her shit is ready to go to her place, so that might actually happen within the month. We're also having a yard sale to coincide with Smallwood Days next Saturday (Smallwood Days is a flea market they have on the carnival grounds across from my house). She was going through her stuff and found some really old shit: drawings she did, a birthday card I did when I was 8, old pictures, and the like. She threw a lot of stuff out, and my mom went through it. Yea, I thought it was a little weird, too. My mom pulled some stuff out she deemed yard sale worthy and started marking it. I start poking through this stuff that was once garbage and find these bitching sunglasses. They're the old kind of thick plastic you used to be able to buy three of at the dollar store. They're two-tone orange and too small for any human face. They are now mine. I wear them when I'm being creative or writing. I'm wearing them right now. My thinking is I want my outside to match my inside- weird and hilarious. Here are some pics. I also haven't shaved in a few days and my hair's a mess.
I also decided that I might as well ride "my" go kart before my dad sells it at this yard sale. The thing is a piece of shit. Had he actually bought it for me, I would be devastated. The thing stalled out going STRAIGHT. The gas makes the engine make more noise, but the thing does not go. The fastest I went was when my dad was pushing me. Apparently, it worked at one point because my dad and my mom have both driven it, but now it's kinda sorta busted. Now all he needs to do is find someone even more of a sucker than him to sell it to. He ended up paying 200 for it, and 45 for some new foam to put around the rollcage, as well as whatever he bought to actually work on the thing. That means, to break even, he'll need to sell it for 300 dollars. THREE HUNDRED UNITED STATES DOLLARS. If the go kart was a hooker, it'd make that in a year. A good year. I doubt my dad will get anything above wompum for it. Which, knowing him, he'll take, thinking they're worth something. Remember how, in Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack traded a cow for magic beans? My dad's Jack.
That's all fuckers.
Emily is finally kicking it into gear, and most of her shit is ready to go to her place, so that might actually happen within the month. We're also having a yard sale to coincide with Smallwood Days next Saturday (Smallwood Days is a flea market they have on the carnival grounds across from my house). She was going through her stuff and found some really old shit: drawings she did, a birthday card I did when I was 8, old pictures, and the like. She threw a lot of stuff out, and my mom went through it. Yea, I thought it was a little weird, too. My mom pulled some stuff out she deemed yard sale worthy and started marking it. I start poking through this stuff that was once garbage and find these bitching sunglasses. They're the old kind of thick plastic you used to be able to buy three of at the dollar store. They're two-tone orange and too small for any human face. They are now mine. I wear them when I'm being creative or writing. I'm wearing them right now. My thinking is I want my outside to match my inside- weird and hilarious. Here are some pics. I also haven't shaved in a few days and my hair's a mess.
I also decided that I might as well ride "my" go kart before my dad sells it at this yard sale. The thing is a piece of shit. Had he actually bought it for me, I would be devastated. The thing stalled out going STRAIGHT. The gas makes the engine make more noise, but the thing does not go. The fastest I went was when my dad was pushing me. Apparently, it worked at one point because my dad and my mom have both driven it, but now it's kinda sorta busted. Now all he needs to do is find someone even more of a sucker than him to sell it to. He ended up paying 200 for it, and 45 for some new foam to put around the rollcage, as well as whatever he bought to actually work on the thing. That means, to break even, he'll need to sell it for 300 dollars. THREE HUNDRED UNITED STATES DOLLARS. If the go kart was a hooker, it'd make that in a year. A good year. I doubt my dad will get anything above wompum for it. Which, knowing him, he'll take, thinking they're worth something. Remember how, in Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack traded a cow for magic beans? My dad's Jack.
That's all fuckers.