2-2

Damn. This song Walk Away by Franz Ferdinand is undoubtedly one of my favorite songs. I can't get it out of my head. Wait, actually its not my favorite song; it's really not possible to claim a favorite because it'll soon be usurped by some other song if not simply out of fading interest. It's like how the eight crayon pack of Crayola's felt when they came out with the thirty two pack;it really can't compete. I mean, come on, there's four times as many crayons! Ah shit, now Stairway To Heaven is stuck in my head. You better know who that's by. You know, Led Zeppelin? Anyway, so my parents have yet to return from their "weekend getaway". I have to say that's a pretty short getaway. If an escaped convict that got recaptured only two days after, i'd be pretty embarrassed. And to add what-the-fuck to injury, both their phones are dead because both of them forget to bring phone chargers along. Luckily I smashed open my piggy bank, ( or rather the twenty dollar deposit box i'd lost the key to) and used a bit of the somewhat prestigious lawn mowing earnings to buy some food from the grocery store down the way.

Story 3

"Who are you to judge whether I am fit to succeed or not? You have no idea, no insight, into the truth. A little, determined fourth grader, with prodigal academic capacity, could pass through puberty feeling as bewildered as first-time solicitors of Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. First everything is all easy and cool with these little, weak-but-exhilerating-to-young-people turns; but the next thing you know you've gone through this passway and find someone has simultaneously and devilishly turned up the heater. Everything around you is bright red and you're scared as shit! That little, oh-so-prodigal kid will undoubtedly become a slacker teenager that gives up when shit gets difficult (unless he/she is Asian). Assuming the for-now innocent child is not a descendant of the Orient, he or she will before long become no different from his or her peers. Therefore, i urgently stress that you reevaluate your evaluation of the probabilty of my lifelong success. Gimme a second, my tea is ready." I rose from my seat in the moment following my excusing myself and retrieved a can of Nestea from the fridge, cracking it open after returning to my ultra-plush living room seat opposite the stunned little man. "Don't you see? You really have no idea where i am going to go in life, just as you had no idea you were going to be in the meager position you were going to be in. And if you hd no idea, then i have no idea, and therefore it is all due to chance and i could even land myself in a lower position than you currently hold yourself in. I've already fucked the first decade and a half of my life up, and as everyone seems to say these days, your youth is most important."

At that, the social worker poorly disguised as shrink hired by my mother gathered his empty, wanting-to-be-a-business-suitcase suitcase, and left.

Dish Lifter

Dish Lifter
On friday, on monday, on tuesday,
wednesday, thursday, friday again,
the waitress earned $5.10 an hour plus tip,
8 hours a day only licked one trip

Yet even then even when,
she worked and worked,
yet,
even then,
only to fall short of the rent,
perhaps because she didn't work the weekend

the landlady alone,
waiting for the rent and,
that's when a client came in and,
she did the hour's work so to be given the hour's,
pay,
snatched hotel robe returned to her wrinkled skin,
click of the door latch closing not before the dish lifter enters in,
unbenknownst to moments prior,
aggravated land lady learns the news,
from dish lifter currently lacking a home

clear tear escapes beneath,
breaks through eyelash down along her face,
dives from her chin to disheveled flooring,
escapes further through boarding,
lower floor below accepts the salt of emotion evaporating

pee-stick gripped loosely,
"I'm sorry miss, i'm not going to make it!"
life shattered before land whore,
the test screen now occupied by unapologetic plus

Story 2-1

The alarm-clock sized, goldfish shaped, Goldfish cracker container stared assuredly at me as through waking eyes I stared at it. At least it would never stop smiling its black ink, faded smile. On the other hand, the rest of my world seemed to be nought but a frown. The saddened, lost-without-you faces hadn't turned upside down after my absence became apparent. I had yet to discover who the disappeared person was, but they were ruining my social life. Fucking fish, stop smiling! A swift backhand across the nightstand threw the plastic vessel and its cheesy inhabitants on a journey through the air, crushingly concluding amid the various clothings lying about my closet. Constant calling to my once merry companions via telephone was no longer an option. That is, unless I was in the mood to endure perilous showers of over-the-phone tears. These people just wouldn't get glad. Homework would be the refuge of Saturday. Ah shit. My book bag lay against the dresser, straps akimbo, a full five and three quarters feet away. I placed my heel against the bumpy, pasty white wall to my right; a meager thrust launched me from beneath the beautifully soft warmth of blankets. I stumbled from the chilly position beside my bed, a very lengthy distance before reaching the oh-so-wonderful academia.

Hell on Earth is supposedly what wierd people say will happen not so long from now, or the Department of Moter Vehicles. I am now re-titling hell on Earth: my house. Parents are vacationing, dog is long dead, cable is out, fridge is empty, clothes are needing to be laundered, computer modem is down, homework is far from done. The neighbor kid however, was home. Donning a mighty t-shirt and even mightier pants, I traveled from my front door to his and rang the doorbell accordingly. Then I rang it again. What the fuck? I knocked. Why isn't he home? Back through my front door I went, then through the back door, across the uncut lawn, and finally, over the poorly maintained back fence. Before I had trekked across the neighbors gigantor yard forest, I saw the kid through their fantastically polished french doors; rather I saw the side of him. He was hunched over on their couch, yellow hair crinkling in his thirteen year old hands. His mom came up behind him, sat down, said something. Not the best time, apparently. I suppose i'll have to stay home.

Story 2

I'd just gotten off the emo wagon yesterday; apparently i was the only one. They keep talking about someone who disappeared or something? I haven't a clue; it only happened yesterday they say, and they just found out this morning via the freshman's mom. I'm just not going to be upset about it, that's what I've decided, because i never knew the kid. Plus, like I said before, i just got over being sad on Monday. Tuesday is, like, my favorite day of the week since everyone else hates it, and I'm not going to have it spoiled.
I just wish i had someone to talk to right now, that isn't crying and shit. Because that's what there doing right now: crying. All my friends are just sitting around me having a sadgasm. It took me fucking forever to get them to tell me what was wrong; i had to do a hell of a lot of it'll-be-okay's and everything-will-be-alright's before one of them would respond.
"HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND!" she said, fucking bawling all over my fucking shoulder. "NOW I'LL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN! IF ONLY IT WEREN'T FOR-" of course at the end of that oh-so-momentous phrase she decided the pain was impossible to bear and she just had to stick her greasy, teary face into my vintage, purple sharkskin shoulder padded jacket.
What a loser. The saddy-faced crying person picked herself up to reach for a tissue. It was at that moment of refuge I clambered to my feet, gripped my bag strap, tossed my book bag onto my shoulder, and stalked off in search of more joyous company. Mourning is such a waste of time; it's Tuesday for god's sake.

Story 1

So I've decided to start writing a fictional narrative because I'm really bored with my own life. Check it out.

There were times when he would give me bits of his lunch. Those were the few times he had too much food, and this was not one of those times. I looked across at the foam box, while taking out my textbooks and notebooks, and my pens and calculators. It undoubtedly held steaming within it some form of re fried bean burrito or grilled sandwich. I had stolen from him before (although not without the inherit guilt), once when he had gone to the restroom and left an open bag of caramel popcorn; I was not that hungry today, however. Still I was curious and crept around my table and over to his, five rows and two tables down. The narrow bookcase ailes were my only window to his return, the fourth through which the beige restroom door could be seen. Prodding the soft white rectangle lightly, first with my finger, then with the tip of my nose, salt, ketchup, and beef singed the olfactory. A squeeze to the opening emitted a vulgar squeal,causing me to scuttle behind my book bag where it rested at the table across the room. I stared fearfully back to find the box lid that squeaked so had also sprung open and revealed the inevitable hamburger with fries. Fountainhead of my fear had not been the sound exactly, rather flushing heard followed by furious hand washing. I had considered walking back over there to close the foam container of life's splendor, but mind you as a busy college type he probably would have finished before i was done. Then again if I left it as it was, he would could have done nought but conclude i had opened it. We were the only people there that time of night. Screw it, I thought, rising from behind he table and plowing forward. My feet had been forgotten however, and as one tripped the other, an outstretched arm attempted to catch any object preventing my crashing to the thinly carpetted floor. It swung downward upon the tray's edge. Bun, patty, and potato strip launched upward and forward upon the side of the closest bookshelf. Through the strands of hair covering my face I witnessed the twenty-something-year old view his meal strewn about. Books exploded around as flying elbows threw them from the shelves. His shout followed me down four flights of stairs until I was engulfed by the outside air.

Hey People

Hey hey. So nothing really interesting happened today. Except i got laid.



Psyke!
I didn't get laid.

I did however get further stressed out about the five projects i have to do.
Besides that there is good news.

Alas, constant whining to my mum resulted in a:

SCHEDUELED APPOINTMENT AT THE ORTHODONTISTS! *echoes reverberate everywhere*

Yup, my mum made an appintment, and there going to take out my bite plate. It will be instead replaced with a wierd wire thingy i don't know anything about. Either way, i will no longer sound retarted.

Also, ive realized that people who read blogs are perpetually entertained by little pictures their blogging hosts post. Here's a picture now!




Whatever. So i figure since i have nothing better to do right now, i'll document my day into the blogosphere (Although i really don't get why it's called a blogo "sphere". Why not blogcube?)

In the morning, before class, i talked to a bunch of people about various, somewhat entertaining subjects, although i wasn't entertained. Afterwards i went to PE, where we lamely did push-ups and planks and this odd excercise i really couldn't imagine doing at the gym called a "superman". Afterward i went to bio, where i worked on my science project, then algebra two where i found we had a sub AGAIN. I got a ton of homework. In the English class following, i was very bored...okay skipping to lunch. No wait, lunch was boring. Ok-ay forget about describibng my day, it wasn't interesting.

Tune in later. I'll hopefully be back with a handy poem. Or maybe i won't. I don't know.

I found a Poem!

Well i forgot that i had a big archive of poems i wrote in sixth grade, on my computer. So here's one of them:

Let Me Be
Please tell me, why you won’t let me be,
For in the he and she of everything,
There is always a we,
So why are we he or she?
Why not you and me

So calling someone a he or she,
Would be in, a way,
Ruining their day,
So please let me be,
A he or she or we or me

So like, if anyone finds this blog in the abyss of blogs, tell me what you think yeah? Yeah, that would be cool. 'Til then, i've gotta go to bed because my mom's mad at me. I normally wouldn't care but she's got a cold, so i feel bad. You know? Goodnight everybody.

Hey blogging people

Hey blogging people who enjoy blogging for a while then when people dont read there blog decide to stop blogging...people. Um, like my title thingy says im a high school student who is also a blogger. It took me forever to make this thing, so you better read it. I had to like put in my e-mail, which turned out to be already used, soi had to put in my other one, then i put it my password, which wasn't "strong enough" to fend off all the people desperate to destroy this new blog. Then i had to type "egdfg" in the little box to prove i wasn't an android that could read a little box with text in it. I hit enter, and off course i typed "egdfg" in wrong so now have to type in "kiwbf", which i mess up again, until i finally corecctly type in "yohwb". Now i'm finally here.



So yeah i figure i'll talk about my problems for a little bit. You know vent a bit? Like people do with their oh-so-caring friend who really just wants you to shut up? 'Kay so here i go:

1. I have this bite plate thingy in my mouth a friend of mine tells me is, "like a jolly rancher". I suppose it is that big. Either way its supposed to fix my bite but now i can't chew very well and i sound retarted (no offense meant to mentally disabled people that might be reading this(i have to make that little discalaimer because half of my friend's siblings are special and they get mad when i say "retarded")).
2. I just got off spring break and i've got five projects now! One in biology, one in english, one in french and one in my speech and debate class. What the heck?



Wow, i guess i don't really have that many problems. I suppose i should realize "how lucky i am" as my mom says. Whatever.

Now is the time i write some positive things about me (because you really care). I'm fifteen. I'm in ninth grade. I get A's and B's. But mostly A's. At the beginning of the year i joined the speech and debate team, going from place to place until the lame mean people there got so mean i quit. Believe me, the people at speach and debate are douches. Now i'm on the Mock Trial Team, in the Lone Wolf Society (a not so prestegious school writing club), and planning to join the school newspaper once i take the journalism class in summer school.



Damn

I am really boring.



Oh yeah, i figure since i'm a demented teen fighting my way through peer pressure and sex and drugs and alcohol, i figure i'll post a poem on here each time, from my collection of somewhat angsty poems i've written Not today though, i left them in my angsty locker.



So anyway, come back next time for some hopefully more interesting bullshit than that which you read today, as well as a poem!