If you read my latest (and hopefully last, for awhile) status on Facebook, you should know that I'm diverting to status rehab... and towards something more freeing and less limited. About every day of every week, this blog, in need of some words and paragraphs, will be spoiled with talks and thoughts... and those inclined or vaguely interested are more than welcome to view.
Somehow, I cannot stop expressing how I feel on Facebook, and, I've been having people threatening to block me on Facebook... and Lord knows I do not want that to happen, now...
Before the Spring Break was out, I returned to wearing my wrist things and dogtag, strapping a fresh and minty new box of Altoids, and putting the Lennon shades again. It's been so long, and I really don't know why I have ignored them for so long. Maybe too busy? Too upset, or too happy? Too open, or too closed? Or a sense that I don't need them so much as before... whatever it is, it was a temporary absense of old habits, and they're back and more refreshing than ever... especially when I prepared for what would be an annoyance of a return.
I watched 'Hot Tub Time Machine' far too much this week, so much that I've been looping Autographs' "Turn Up The Radio", and it gave me this sense of return. A feeling that I was back. I was finally back, I was so happy, I still am happy... I feel it right now, the rush, the adrenaline (probably from the song, though), the freedom... freedom of speech, of thought, of expression... I was free, again.
As if there was a sequel; the feeling that the main character was back, but with something new. Higher conscience? Learning each week and time? Freedom to let nature do its voodoo? Bob Dylan. This guy... he sounded like a freaky old guy when I first heard him... and now that my appreciation for him not only shot through the ceiling, but have him battle the forces of today. The truth in his music, written as far as the 60s... like Fahrenheit 451, it's so set in stone, it's damning yet beautiful. It's good to have his music with me. But even with this sensation of return or resurrection... it would not prepare me for my dealing with a class that imprisons.
Today, as if the pressures of returning to our "business" in Business Ed were going to bust me, I was more than happily surprised that Mrs. Scott would sub. So, of course, the business went on a day-vacation. I would've enjoyed it, but an uncertainty for a paper had me look it over on my computer, and have it instead come up as a corrupt file. I really have to change flashdrives. This is seriously the third time I had issues with a paper I did not know a date due for. A class period that could've been spent resting or hanging, I spent redoing this damn paper.
Returning to Drama II, seeing people that I find welcoming, or annoying, or reverse-annoyance... nothing new... but it stressed me that for a play we're endearing to complete, we only reviewed what we already knew. But at least I'm finally in the play crew, by painting a throne seat. Bell rings, get up, get out, sundaes and float games for Seniors? Out behind the school. But first to Business Ed, as how I didn't pick up the print of that damn paper. It would take me to a conversation with Mrs. Scott. Mrs. Scott is such a nice lady. Before the sundaes, I talked with her about life choices... she enjoys her life. She herself went to ASU, bu never finished, or figured what she would've majored/minored in... but she enjoys her job and life.
I think that's all that matters.
5th period bell rings, and I walk towards what was going to be a firestorm of people beating at me for not dressing up for the damn Senior week dress-up thing. 'Dodgeball'. We have an unpresedented number of choices, but we choose 'Dodgeball'. Ignore the "we". A movie I haven't seen, have no interest in seeing, nothing exciting as other classes today... and no proper clothing for. And by proper, it means purple or yellow. I'll be the only person not dressed up for it, we'll lose points towards a Senior competition we're not gonna win, anyway, since we were missing maybe two or three people today, but it still falls down to me and my clothing choice.
Stephen stops me with glee and lends me an extra pair of his gym shorts. Just so I could look like I slightly attempted. Nice guy. Alright, gym clothes on, but nothing to say that I'm purple or yellow. Sharpie out, notebook paper against the bathroom stall wall, "I'M ASIAN. I AM YELLOW..." I told Mrs. Collins I would provide blank charisma for her class. There. Get in the room, go outside to clean up the sundae area, and she complains like I predicted...Go back in, take a picture, and I optimistically hold my sign infront of her camera, picture taken, I doubt it was in it, I don't care, Zach is a crybaby... Christ...
Mrs. Collins, you can kick me out of the room, you can stab me in the throat or puncture my spine, you can have the entire class get at me and make sure my last year at Lakeside is nothing but hell... you can do anything... and it won't solve my pidly-ass interest in your sad and desperate life, or most of a vague and desolate 5th period. I'll do the work you provide, I'll make sure I pass your class... but I won't solve your interest in getting me interested. You want me involved in your Senior week? I could have any teacher in my schedule... Mr. Meitin, Mrs. McKean, Mrs. Simons... even Mrs. Hancock, at least I have a cool group of people I could feel comfortable working and spiriting it up with for the week... but your lack of optimism, or mannerism, or damning ability of control, or other adjectives and nouns I can't think up right now... will not get me interested in this week, or anything of the sort for the rest of the year. It's not Lakeside, I love it here. It's you.
ANYWAY, venting complete, bring up the admin to write me up for it... but aside this bugbite for the day, the rest of it went as predicted; surrounded by the narrow, the hypocrites, the pathetic, and the absolutely awesome... it's an obvious picture I can conjure in my head, and it plays out like music. Maybe not externally, but I could see it happen, anyway. The damned damn themselves, the strong feed off the weak and die for lack of substance... crap, crap crap... I feel like a narcisist... it's an obvious picture, that I try not to feed off of, I honestly don't, and I really take pity... but then again, I'm the happy one in the situation. And they're as old and mature-capable as I am or can be... they can solve their problems, and leave me to reading my Playstation Magazine.
I remember last year, Mr. Shouse caught me drafting on my blog, and Mr. Riddick conviniently checking out the classroom, and confiscating my entire blog on paper, threatened me that "this is just the beginning; there's more to come"... he called me up eventually in 3rd period that day, then... he just looked at, read those papers, and told me he'll get back to me.
He hasn't since. So... Mr. Riddick, if you're still reading my blog... good evening... this blog is back, it's getting more action than ever, and it'll hopefully get me back to sanity once again. Or am I already the sane one? Help wanted.
- Ant
-- Good grief, this is maybe over two pages...
No comments:
Post a Comment