Choirs seriously under construction
basically today ranks as a perfect as example of why i hate junior year. it was possibly one of the worst saturdays i've ever had.
CAUTION: I'M IN BITCH MODE, SO ONLY READ IF U WANT TO HEAR ME COMPLAIN.
let't start with the psat. i wake up at 6:30, after my usual 5 hours of sleep, to the familiar voice stylings of ryan seacrest in the morning. note:this is a saturday. the only day that u are given to enjoy the comforts of slumber. and tis ruined by quite possibly the most pointless test ever created for man. the PSAT. no, not the SAT. not really close conidering it's missing the essay and most of the math problems we are supposed to do. so anyway i get to school, again ON A SATURDAY at 7:30, and find my room. i walk into a room filled with creepy juniors that i have never seen before and the friends one is only awkwardly aquainted with. and then all of a sudden u and that aquaintance simulatneously use eachother in making forced conversation which leads to nervous laughter, which leads to the same conversation about how "dumb these tests are." then i take the actual test. SAMPLE QUESTION.
Native American basket weavers like to eat turtle shell necklaces because they feel ___________ with the earth and desire ___________ with NARFUGA, their god of underground cabins for seahorses.
A. HFDLFDS;HDFHEF, POO
B. flankhearutyd, pantelones
C. $TEXAS
Post PSAT was the choir concert where i delighted in the regular choir concert activities of: trying to curl ur hair hours and then trying to make it stay in place, starving in the foodless back room, doing very badly in concert, and then of course hearing everyone say to you afterwards "that was, er uh great!! yeah thats it."
So here i am now, on a saturday night, home alone, doing homework. if i cant live for staurdays, what can i live for?
CAUTION: I'M IN BITCH MODE, SO ONLY READ IF U WANT TO HEAR ME COMPLAIN.
let't start with the psat. i wake up at 6:30, after my usual 5 hours of sleep, to the familiar voice stylings of ryan seacrest in the morning. note:this is a saturday. the only day that u are given to enjoy the comforts of slumber. and tis ruined by quite possibly the most pointless test ever created for man. the PSAT. no, not the SAT. not really close conidering it's missing the essay and most of the math problems we are supposed to do. so anyway i get to school, again ON A SATURDAY at 7:30, and find my room. i walk into a room filled with creepy juniors that i have never seen before and the friends one is only awkwardly aquainted with. and then all of a sudden u and that aquaintance simulatneously use eachother in making forced conversation which leads to nervous laughter, which leads to the same conversation about how "dumb these tests are." then i take the actual test. SAMPLE QUESTION.
Native American basket weavers like to eat turtle shell necklaces because they feel ___________ with the earth and desire ___________ with NARFUGA, their god of underground cabins for seahorses.
A. HFDLFDS;HDFHEF, POO
B. flankhearutyd, pantelones
C. $TEXAS
Post PSAT was the choir concert where i delighted in the regular choir concert activities of: trying to curl ur hair hours and then trying to make it stay in place, starving in the foodless back room, doing very badly in concert, and then of course hearing everyone say to you afterwards "that was, er uh great!! yeah thats it."
So here i am now, on a saturday night, home alone, doing homework. if i cant live for staurdays, what can i live for?