I must have written somewhere that I read a lot. Did I mention that? If I didn't, I'm telling you now. I read a lot.
I carry a lot of books around during the school day. Actually, I only had two today, and one I didn't even open. Anyway, I had dropped my book on the floor at the end of the day, so this immature child, also known as Tom Cerrito, The Bastard, decides that he needs to pick up my book and flaunt that he took it while I was packing my backpack. I go up to him and say, in a nice, polite, civil tone, "Tom, I'd like my book back. Could you please give me my book?"
Of course, being the immature bastard that he is, he dances over to a different table and starts dancing again. There are ten minutes until school's out, so I figure I can finish packing my backpack, and I go to get stuff from my locker. Five minutes later he's still dancing around, "Oh, I've got Maria's book, ha ha, now I'm smart, whatcha gonna do now, Maria, huh, huh?"
And again, I say "Can I have my book back now, Tom?" Of course he doesn't give it back, and this is one of my favorite books, and a library book too. He doesn't know about the Etymologies, but since this is my book, he thinks he's such a man to have stolen it off the floor while I was busy. Sure.
A minute before the school bell rings, he gloats his way out into the hall, where he goes on "I got Maria's book! Ha ha!" Finally he gets the book close enough that I can grab it, and to make sure he lets go, I hit him. Granted, I don't hit him very hard, but at least I'm not a whimpering, whining loser. I would get the book anyway if I asked for it in front of a teacher, but I don't want to be labeled a tattletale or wimpy or loser or any other derogatory names (who does?). That's the first reason that I'm angry today.
Second, is my sister. The bell rings and I walk out of school, carrying a much-too-heavy backpack. This little third-grader starts budging by me like she's a driver with road rage in a traffic jam. I'd like to say to her, "Why are you in such a rush, you fool?" Of course, going to a Catholic school, and being surrounded by teachers and students, I don't. I walk out the front doors and walk straight to the van, and my sister is sitting, smiling, and bouncing in the front seat. I want to slap her.
I get in, and my sister comments that my brother is coming. So I make some remark about nobody caring about her. This is actually true. Nobody is in desperate need of knowing anything she says. She comes right back and says, "I can tell you've had a bad day." Now I don't just want to slap her, now I want to feed her to the garbage disposal.
I answer, "I can tell that you're wrong," because I don't want her to be happy, because it's just so annoying when she is. She's sitting in the front seat like it's a throne. Sure, she might think it's the best seat just because she can GET THE MAIL, but my brother and I really don't give a shit. Then, of course, is Option A of her two settings of attitude: obnoxious, annoying, and perky, and obnoxious, annoying, and whiny. My mom and brother get in and we have to shut up. All right, we don't have to, but if you'd love a lecture on behavior crap for the entire fifteen minutes home, you can bitch all you want in front of my mom.
When we get home, my sister "calls" the computer, because she wants to have fun on it, while I have homework. (I know this isn't homework, but I'm also editing my lab report at the same time.) We both get up to the computer room, and I slip in before my sister. She says, "I want a turn on the computer! Let me have my turn on the computer!"
I calmly break my sister down in six sentences, not being hysterical because of my potential loss of time on the computer. "Angela, wait. You do not need to use the computer. I need to use it for homework. I need to use it more than you do. You do not need to use the computer. Let me use the computer, because I have homework, and you don't." And she starts crying, and she runs downstairs to talk to my mom, because of the great crybaby she is. I try to get her to stop crying, because my mom never assumes that Angela has done something wrong, because I know better than her, and shouldn't I set a good example for her?
My mom comes in the door. "I was right; someone's crying already." I try to explain, but my mom never listens to me when I try to explain. Instead, she waits for herself to ask what went on. I explain, and my mom, expectedly, tells me that Angela should have a turn on the computer, and by that time, Angela's upstairs. She adds, out of Angela's hearing, that homework does take precedence over fun, and I yell so that Angela can hear, but does she? No. She doesn't hear anything of importance, only pony or Barbie or toy crap.
My mom tries to give me a lecture on how Angela never gets a turn on the computer because my brother and I are always on it, but I interrupt, saying that she's always using the TV, and I never get to use the TV. My mom says, "Well, you don't want to use the TV."
I answer that Angela's always using it, and I don't want to watch what she's watching. My mom says that she uses it because my brother and I are always on the computer, and we end up accusing each other of circular logic. I just finish some pieces of
Halloween candy, go upstairs, turn on the computer that my sister has so thoughtfully turned off, and log in. As I write this, my sister is jumping around, onto, or off the big climbing tree in our front yard, and having great fun by the looks of it. Oh yes, now she's playing with the neighbor's dog. I hate dogs.
So, that's my overly joyful end of the school day. My lit test went fairly well, though I didn't get the extra credit. Does anyone know what Nathan Hale is reported to have said before he died? I still have one essay to finish. I finished a 400-page book in school today, called Life of Pi. I also got it this morning in second period from Mariah, not to be confused with Maria.
Oh yes, one other thing that dampened my day was the school election. Kerry lost by 43 votes in our school, which however was nearly 4 times the number of votes given to Nader, who nobody was supposed to vote for at all. There wasn't even a write-in line on the ballot, which was supposed to make it easier and simpler. Two of my friends, though I'm not exactly sure that they are my friends, drew mustaches on Bush (and probably Cheney, too. They didn't say.) The Bastard who stole my book said that he voted for Mickey Mouse, but there were no ballots found, the student council rep from my class said, that had Mickey Mouse on it.
That's my life today. It really only got worse, and now I have homework. Blagh. If ghosties and demons unnamed would like to see my assignment notebook page, it is below:
x English Rough draft due Thursday
x Religion None
Science Lab report
x SS Assignment 3
Other LJ, pics for computers
I have not found any suitable pictures for computers yet. All of mine show me really bad, and anyway my mom has all of them.
Well, that's today's report. If you find my livejournal annoying, you can tell me, although I won't care all that much, because I write far too much to delete any of it.
Thought for the day: "But old age does not cut us off from going away, from--from forthsith. There is no eftsith: we can't go back." --Oswin, Alboin's father, fron The Lost Road