Almost as unnecessarily long as Harry Potter 5

[lovesongtx]

Yay, I survived the first week of school. Fuck that, I'd be happier if it killed me by Tuesday. I mean, at first I was almost not dreading going back. I had 3 electives scheduled and I was soon to see all my friends again. Then I realized that my electives would be crammed with the school's top Special Olympic contenders, and after that I remembered that all my friends hated me. Jesus, I'm an awful person. Anyone that reads that terrible comment will hate me even more now. But it was ingenius and it would be a crime to exclude it. So I go to first period everyday and get my ass kicked by boredom and a horrible book contaning such nuggets of literary brilliance as "he submerged his limbs in aqua pura only once every hebdomad." Then I go to Social Psychology, where poor Mrs. Elkin tried to have sophisticated discussions with a class with a mean IQ of -25. Here's an example. She raised a question about why a teenager would be mentally compelled to overeat, since we were discussing causes of obesity. A girl raised her hand and spent five minutes trying to convince us that fat cells and carbohydrates bonded in the stomach or something and caused people to get fat. Did Mrs. Elkin ask for your shitty scientific analysis? No, so go leave this class and take a different one about not sucking at life. Anyway, all you need to know is that second period is infested with idiots. Then I have lunch, where I spend the whole half hour trying to cheer up Cait because I hurt her feelings or something before school. I'm five for five this week in managing to piss her off before I eat my lunch. I must be a very shitty boyfriend. Anyway, then we go to Journalism together in huffy silence because of something I said. Then in that class, we fight even more while I stress about finishing my stories and trying my best to bug Brett Loper and Tara. Kaela's my next target. But I've managed to screw up at least 3 times a period each day in that class, too. I almost brought my poor Cait to tears today because we were yelling at each other about God knows what. I think it had something to do with the shittiness of myspace.com, but I'm never really sure. Anyway, after 2 hours of arguing and making up and going from wanting to stick a pencil in my eye to wanting to propose to Cait, I seek solace in my final class. Piano Lab, baby. Mr. Everts reads us extremely shitty poems and stories out of Chicken Soup before each period, while I stare at my keyboard trying to keep a straight face with the image of his ridiculous(ly awesome) facial hair dominating my mind. But seriously, these poems are disgusting. I want Mrs. Kars to Apparate to our class one day and set ablaze the damn book with her laser vision, because it is a super power I know she has if shitty literature is involved. Anyway, I just play piano for like 10 minutes and then play cards with some amusing people and laugh about how easy the class is. After class ends, I go and say goodbye to the girlfriend, usually managing to squeeze in another fight before we leave, and then I head off to the voluntary torture known as Cross Country. What kind of sick masochist would surrender 2 hours after school every day so he could run around in 100 degree heat until he passes out and smites everything within sight? I'll give you a hint: he's an idiot and his name rhymes with Fat Biker. So I just run around way faster than I should and get chased by Ms. Simpson until I start to cry, then she talks for about 45 minutes while I stand on the track listening, wondering how many times I would have to stab myself with the paper clip on the ground before I died, because suicide is a more attractive option than listening to her ramble on about why it is important to take small strides while running. I'm usually at about stab number four or five when we are finally dismissed and I get to go home, where I have 500 pages to read and about 5 hours of sleep to catch up on. At my average pace, I get through 12 pages and then fall asleep for half an hour until a loud part of my song kicks in and I wake up more tired than when I started. It is a miserable cycle, really. Naturally, you have to add in the mandatory hour or two that I have to spend online complaining about how there is no way I will have enough time to finish my homework. Then I go to my room around 11 with a large bottle of caffeinated soda and try to get farther along in my reading, until I crash with the lamp on and my book open. My mom wakes me up the next morning, 20 minutes before my alarm was set to go off, and I haul myself to the shower, catch up on my 20 minutes of sleep she stole, eat my Oreo-O's (without which I would have committed sepukku by Tuesday) and go to my friend's house to get a ride to school. Yay.

But my life is still better than yours because I get to see The Cure and Mogwai and The Rapture and Cooper Temple Clause on Sunday.