It's time.
A friend's birthday today. Seventeen.
Things seemed simpler when I used to write him letters in orange crayon, and ask my mother which side of the envelope the stamp went on. Don't suppose they really were. Relatively.
Funny how time always works the same way, but I'm continually surprised by it.
Mom invited some people over for dinner. Lucy got sick and didn't come. Watched less than a quarter of the orange bowl, then retreated to the back room to watch the first disc of the second season of Buffy.
Nice to have an obsession for a while.
I can hear the rain outside. Everyone's claiming there's an icestorm tonight. School starts again in eight hours. Still haven't adjusted to the schedule. I'm going to open my window and listen to the rain for an hour or two.
I'm dropping swimming for the second half of French II. There are only eight kids in the class. Three eighth graders, two of which went to Eisenhower. One kid from my own class there. One with French parents. Seven girls and Matt. Should be a much better class than the one that drove me to independent study and then to Latin last year.
I'll miss the smell of the chlorine, my allergy to which I've ignored.
No, I won't.
Things seemed simpler when I used to write him letters in orange crayon, and ask my mother which side of the envelope the stamp went on. Don't suppose they really were. Relatively.
Funny how time always works the same way, but I'm continually surprised by it.
Mom invited some people over for dinner. Lucy got sick and didn't come. Watched less than a quarter of the orange bowl, then retreated to the back room to watch the first disc of the second season of Buffy.
Nice to have an obsession for a while.
I can hear the rain outside. Everyone's claiming there's an icestorm tonight. School starts again in eight hours. Still haven't adjusted to the schedule. I'm going to open my window and listen to the rain for an hour or two.
I'm dropping swimming for the second half of French II. There are only eight kids in the class. Three eighth graders, two of which went to Eisenhower. One kid from my own class there. One with French parents. Seven girls and Matt. Should be a much better class than the one that drove me to independent study and then to Latin last year.
I'll miss the smell of the chlorine, my allergy to which I've ignored.
No, I won't.
posted by Jessie ᏤᏏ at 9:02 PM
1 Comments:
It's taht d00b wiht teh hare...
AHAHAHHA! AHAHA! AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA! You think... *snigger* YOU THINK IT'LL BE BETTER!? HAHAHA!!! Oh man... It's more advanced, but the class is continually interupted/not done with the whole, story-telling, end-of-the-dayness... All that... And it grinds to a HALT when I'm asked a question... >_< Awww, now I've gone and made myself feel bad!
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