--> T is for Technicalities
I was so tired today. I fell asleep in every class i could. Spanish, Orchestra, and U.S. History. I want a break. I want to hang out without worrying about whether or not i can finish my homework on time. I want to hang out at Culver Plaza and drink bawls and sit on a bench and laugh and loiter in CVS because the bastards wouldn't give me a job.
Yea, it's junior year and all, but come on. I need a break. I know, i know, adults don't get breaks, you won't get a break when you get a job, blah blah blah. Well come off it. I'm not an adult yet. I want a break, i'm tired, i wake up every morning to go to fucking zero period and i don't even have to. What the fuck do i do there? I come in and set up the goddamn speaker. I plug the goddamn speaker into the megaphone and make sure that the fucking stand is set up properly. Then i sit in the stands and wait until i have to wrap the speaker back up and hand it to a clarinetist.
Everyone keeps asking me if i'm in marching band. I'm at the games, I go to zero period, I go to the tournament, my name is on the volunteer list, and they're wondering if i'm in marching band. I do all of that, and yet i still can't wear a fucking uniform, i don't do a heel-toe on the field, i don't have a number, i don't have a spot, i don't know the drill. And all i get in exchange for this is a fucking audition for jazz [not even a spot, but an audition] and 2.5 PE credits, and my name on the hawaii list which i probably can't even fucking go to anymore.
Somebody kill me, and then reincarnate me as some kid who's just naturally smart and doesn't have to do homework. Please. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
Yea, it's junior year and all, but come on. I need a break. I know, i know, adults don't get breaks, you won't get a break when you get a job, blah blah blah. Well come off it. I'm not an adult yet. I want a break, i'm tired, i wake up every morning to go to fucking zero period and i don't even have to. What the fuck do i do there? I come in and set up the goddamn speaker. I plug the goddamn speaker into the megaphone and make sure that the fucking stand is set up properly. Then i sit in the stands and wait until i have to wrap the speaker back up and hand it to a clarinetist.
Everyone keeps asking me if i'm in marching band. I'm at the games, I go to zero period, I go to the tournament, my name is on the volunteer list, and they're wondering if i'm in marching band. I do all of that, and yet i still can't wear a fucking uniform, i don't do a heel-toe on the field, i don't have a number, i don't have a spot, i don't know the drill. And all i get in exchange for this is a fucking audition for jazz [not even a spot, but an audition] and 2.5 PE credits, and my name on the hawaii list which i probably can't even fucking go to anymore.
Somebody kill me, and then reincarnate me as some kid who's just naturally smart and doesn't have to do homework. Please. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.