That's part of one of our choir songs. "What joy is mine today, since I have fallen for you!" Cute, right? Except it's in German, so it sounds like guttural whining instead of an impassioned love song, but that is surely all right. After all, our choir conspires to sing it so beautifully. *eyeroll*
My finals, man. Ugh. I can't believe them. For the AP Chem final, no one got an A. Even Miss Smarty-Sweatpants. The highest score was an 80. Fuuuuuuuu.... I was probably the first person in the history of the entire high school to ever get a zero. -.-
My math test wasn't that bad, but it was. You see?
Oui. I make le sense.
Bleh. I'm so tired. I don't want to go to bed, though. I mean, this is all the chance I have to surf the web and perform other important tasks, all of which are too important and fabulous to enumerate here. I have to watch my hentai, and catch up on redbox, and... (what is that site called? Redbox? No. Red listing? Dream of the Red Chamber? Oh dear. I fear I have just demonstrated my ignorance to the world). What tha heck, I'm not a guy.
Today, Allie, Sonia, and I went geocaching. It was a beautiful experience. We caroled people, much to their chagrin, and whistled at attractive college students (we were on a university campus, you see), and ate until we were fit to bust. Allie bought us all stuff. ♥ Then we found caches! I'm not bad, if I do say myself. I figured it allllll out. Found one all by my little self. Woo! I'm so clever, I should be in a hall of fame somewhere in South Korea. Allie got her license, finally, so she drove us around. It was awesome. I felt very collegiate. All I needed was some Ayn Rand and Pabst (and maybe an ironic spray of facial hair or two). Seriously, what is it with college students and wanting to be hipsters? I find it to be a disturbing trend, myself. I mean, really, why is it all of a sudden good to look like an absolute and complete idiot in front of the whole, cold, mocking world? Oh.... I get it. Being so mocked and despised makes them sad. And then they can write whiny poetry about it and stare soulfully off into the ocean. That's always good for a laugh.
Here is a beautiful hipster sonnet on life and meaning that I have composed just for you. I call it "As Dies My Soul Alas."
As dies my soul, alas
My face looks up above
The only thing that keeps me sane
Is your undying love
I love you more than diamond
Than earth or tree or flame
Just like the carbon in the air
Is your beloved name
I smile with a certainty
Of sadness born of hope
That resolution leads the way
To courage
And a rope.
Oh, that's beautiful. I should publish it. It obviously symbolizes the pitiful state of humanity as a whole thanks to the demons of crude industrialization and decries the absence of empathy in human nature. Obviously. The "carbon in the air" is a... metaphor. Of course. What are you, a scientist or something?
Hmm. I wonder if I did the italics right. Computers are quite confusing.
Ooh. I have le hilarious story. Well, ok, more of an anecdote. And it has not yet concluded itself, since I never really bother to check my phone. But, you see, that is a minor stitch in the fabric of life, and we may move forward from that with hope. A sadness born of it, too. Ok. So, there was this guy from Camp (Not So) Hell who was my first love. Wait.... no. I was HIS first love. There we go. So, he fancied himself a creative writer, which was really quite hilarious, considering the sad specimens that he dug up for me to coo and praise, but I suppose we must not judge. After all, he may have meant to use the word "golden" three separate times in one little sonnet to the moon. Even though when I asked him if he was, he sort of stared at me blankly, hung his mouth opened, muttered "Um" a few times, and shook his head. Anyway, he just randomly texted me a long, dark, deep depressing poem about the darkness of his soul. It was a little strange, actually. If I hadn't known that he was trying to become the next T.S Eliot, I would have swiftly called him and tried to talk him off of the ledge that he was no doubt standing on. But as it was, I was sure that he was merely letting his creative juices flow a bit. Being the kind person that I am, I did not suggest to him that the "darkness" that he was talking about actually referred to the deep, cavernous hole inside his head. I asked him perkily, "Did you write that?" I even included the ubiquitous ":D" face. And the little bugger didn't reply until the next day! I mean, how rude. If you're going to send someone a textual novel, you should at least have the decency to wait around until they excoriate you for doing it (not that I did, because I'm nice)! Although maybe he was bathing his hand in ice water. It must be indeed difficult to type all of that. But even so! If he's that depressed, shouldn't he welcome the chance to be able to talk to someone, even an ugly bitch such as I? (was that even grammatical?) You see, I have a point. He is being an attention whore. Or else, maybe he does have deep issues. I'm going to feel terrible about writing this tomorrow morning. Man, I'm a horrible person. Maybe I should read those other two texts he sent me... they might be bidding me and the rest of the world farewell and decreeing his intention to go and jump off a bridge. Oh dear....
What if he does? I'm actually scared. Where the fudgecake is my phone?
Found it. Let's see.... Oh, here's a new one. He didn't of himself. "How are you?" it reads. How innocuous. How jejune. I was hoping for an undying profession of love. Oh well... that would have been awkward to deal with anyhow.
Oh flizzleshit. Shana just called me. Now I have to call her back. I hate calling people. Man! Unless... Maybe she called before I saw her today, in which case I don't have to. Let us check, shall we? Oh. Wait. 10:41 am? We were in class! Were we not? Unless we were taking our choir final, in which case we were off gallivanting around the city taking pictures.... oh, I get it. That must be it. Yeah.
Man, I have a ton of new messages too. Life suuuucks.... Let's see what my one worthy suitor has to say. "Hey :) wanna go on a date?" Oh, no. That wasn't the worthy one; that was the dumbass. Let's check on... er, Bob. Yeah, Bob. (Isn't there a sexy cartoon character or something after which I could call this man?) D'aww, he thinks I'm witty. D'aww.
I just realized something. I sound like Tina. This is terrible. She is SO annoying! And she's the only other soprano who can actually sing, so she and I are constantly thrown together! Plus, we're both short. And she seems to think that I am her best friend in the whole group (which may be true, considering everyone else's strange antipathy towards her). Anyway. She is not that bad, I suppose, at least when she's singing or keeping her mouth shut. No, I take that back. When she's not talking, she's either picking her nose, biting her nails, or shoving her fingers down her throat, hacking and gagging, bringing her fingers back up covered in something, and wiping it on her pants. It's DISGUSTING. I can't look at her, or I'll start feeling nauseated. But it's pretty hard, because she's so effing loud... man, she's like a fire truck or something! Got a set of pipes, she does. I guess she can't help the way she is. I mean, Speech and Debate will do that to a person. And Anime Club... well, let us not speak of that. Suffice to say that she often comes to school in full cosplay outfit, thinking of no ramifications or dress code policies at all. (Does that suffice to say in the least bit?)
Ho hum. I'm being mean again. I need a good, hard, smack upside the head.
I want to hang out with KiKi. I haven't seen her in a long time. Nor anyone, but especially her. Hmm.
Ooh. I also need to invite Sonia and Allie to New Years. Especially Sonia. I wish I could take her up to San Francisco with me for Christmas too...
Okeydokey. Man. I have no friends.
I need to go to bed. It's two in the morning. I'm too tired, though. And, irrational though it may seem, I have a deep fear that CIA agents will be waiting for me as I go up to my room to ambush me and sell me into wage slavery or make me the assistant bureaucrat to the Secretary of State or whatever it is that malevolent CIA agents do.
I'm so childish.
Ok, I seriously need to go to sleep. What am I even doing up? Obviously, I am typing on this blog. But besides that... ugh, when I start to make outstandingly precocious pieces of rhetoric like the one I have just evinced, it proves that I'm too dumb to spend another waking moment awake. I need to go to sleep. I just don't want to...
Dem CIA agents, man. What am I going to do? This is a problem. Maybe I should have thought this through.
Oh well. I guess I'll watch
In the event of my kidnapping by CIA agents, Kitty is to have my clothes.
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