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Beauty of Another Kind : 03.07.03 @ 7:52 pm "... There is no there, there
I had another entry � I was forty minutes into it and I accidentally hit the wrong [x] so I'm starting this over in my computer's equivalent to Word, which I should have done to begin with anyway. Bad days always seem to start with me sleeping in. I'm not sure why that is, but it just seems to happen that way. Mum woke me up at 6:05 � I had turned off my alarm in my sleep. As in it didn't even register that my alarm went off. I had fifteen minutes to shower, dress, throw my books in a bag, and walk to the end of the road to catch the school bus. I made it. And no, I did not skip my shower. [had more here involving first and third periods but decides not to add them this time around]
I managed to alienate myself from the person that I would most likely be able to call "friend" today. I won't go into too much detail, but I somehow managed to make it sound like what I was saying was that he was stupid and uneducated (which I don't think he is at all). I am one though, so calling me one was totally called for.
It was one of those situations where if I had apologized, I would have made it worse (you know those?). So I didn't. Instead I kept quiet for the rest of the meal, silently kicking myself for possibly ruining a (possible) friendship because I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut. -sigh-
I've semi-officially given up on photography as a possible career option. Why, you ask? I even dropped Art 2 (next year class), which I was only taking to prepare me for the photography major. For some reason I chose to replace it with Geosystems. (I'm a sucker for pain, right?) In History I wrote two essays in an hour and thirty minutes (love AP US History, don't you? We're supposed to be able to do that in 80 minutes.)
Came home and promptly realized I got The New Deal mixed up with some other deal, so both essays were completely wrong. I hate US History. We don't have a History so we have to be so fucking NIT PICKEY to make up for it and name things confusing names (there's like three different "Deals" in a twenty year period). Actually (not that I need to pick a major when I'm a junior in high school, but yea) Ithaca College has a Social Studies for Education B.S. Not that I want to teach High School Social Studies, but hey. I can easily format that into a pre-law program (yea uh... you'd have to read the Ithaca College site) and go onto law school if I so chose. Considering lawyers make like $80,000 + a year and school teachers make what, $40,000? I'm not sure if that will be a difficult choice. Fuck it. I make intricate plans and they'll just change on me so why bother. So I come home and here in begins another story that might take me awhile to get out. [One of] my Mum's part time job[s] involves typing things into a program on the computer. The problem with this is that my mother is computer illiterate. She knows jack shit about computers and she gets frustrated when I can't help her. I can't help her most of the time because the program the company she works for uses isn't something I've used before. Her being stressed, frustrated, and achey, when I couldn't help her today she threw a fit and screamed at me for awhile before I left to go study for my various major tests (SATs, two AP exams) coming up.
I'm upstairs studying for my AP Language and Composition exam in the dining room. You know when you've finally gotten into the grove/mood of studying? Well I had just settled into that mood, so it was working well for me. I come downstairs and half way down the stairs I realize that every piece of paper, every irreplaceable magazine clipping, calendar page, picture, etc. that had been on my door has been torn down and ripped to shreds.
Me: Why...?
My psych picture had us draw a family portrait the other class.
You don't need to be a psychologist to determine that we need family therapy. It was funny, but when I actually drew it I wasn't thinking of all the symbolism, but afterwards when I looked at it... So today I have been called an ass hole, a bitch, and I've given up on a pipe dream.
I'm starting to think that I'm alone here. Earlier I was examining a scar on my stomach that I had forgotten was there. I'd forgotten about a lot of my scars. I even forgot where quite a few of them were. The most beautiful thing right now would be to make pretty little designs on my skin with red paint. I'm trying. But sometimes. It just doesn't seem worth it. /A
P.S. It's almost eight already? Oh. Mum "forgot" to invite me to supper.
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