(no subject)
Everyone is trying to make me cry. I honestly believe they are.
...I'm a senior in band. Today was the last football game (coincidentally, the last home game.) Which means today was Senior Night at my high school. Parents walk out onto the field with thier children before the game and are introduced. Okay, I can handle that. Except they bring me flowers. Flowers that are in our school colors and have these awesome ribbons and smell really, really nice.
But I make it through that. I'm a little embarrassed and a lot thankful, but I'm okay. Only once I'm off the field and heading back to the band shell - with my dad in tow, of course - one of my few close friends, a sophmore comes running down. And then here comes my other band friend, also a senior, who annoys me a lot but who I've known for a really long time and am going to miss so, so much next year. And we're all happy but just a little panicky. But we deal and still no tears from me.
Not even half-way through first quarter, I get into a major fight with a member of the flagline (she was upset because I was sitting in the flagline section. But remember the sophmore? She's a flag, and the flag's are taking up a quarter of the space anyway, despite the fact that they only make up about a tenth of the band.) So then I was really upset.
We do the half-time show. I rant to my father about the stupid flag girl with a stupid chip on her shoulder. I feel better and head back to the band shell. And what do I find? My freshman near tears because certain annoying idiots have been talking about her. Just to clarify: 'my' refers to the fact that I'm the one that's taken responsiblity for ensuring that she knowns everything she needs to know. Remember that oft-mentioned sophmore? My freshman from last year, who's now one of my best friends. Anyway, I spend about half of fourth quarter trying to cheer her up (and mostly failing). But, again, we got through it relatively dry-eyed. Me and the freshman and the sophmore dance (because that's what we band kids do, we dance and have a large amount of fun doing it, even when we look horrible).
And all is well. Except the game's nearly over, and I can't find my earmuffs. Ya know, the ones I've had since the frickin' eigth grade. The really, really expensive earmuffs I'm planning on using for the next ten years. The ones I absolutely love the crap out of. I search. I can't find it. Last I had seen it, it was with my instrument case, which was near the flagline. You remember them, right? The ones I'd been fighting with? Who a number of I know with certainity would think nothing of stealing my earmuffs in a fit of peaty anger? I, of course, am furious and, by this point, seriously close to crying. But I'm still me, and I want to make sure I'm being fair. So I wait 'till most everyone is gone and I can see much easier before accusing anyone. And, ta-dah, there they are! They'd gotten underneath the bleachers, where I could barely see them even with everyone gone. So once again, all is well.
I change out of uniform. I call my parents for a ride. They send my brother. My brother and I don't fight very often, but that's mainly because we spend hardly any time together. And guess what? My distant, technologically inclined brother - a sharp contrast to me, the history-obsessed sister - has gotten me a present for Senior Night. And, well, crap. As if I wasn't being pulled between sharp contrasts enough already.
Then I get home and realize - I'm six thousand, one hundred, forty-five words behind on my nanowrimo novel. And I won't have anytime to write again until Sunday, unless something miraculous happens. So, when I'm next able to write again, I'll be nine thousand, four hundred, seventy-nine words behind.
...I can't decide wether to label this night as successful or disasterous.