Sunday Dysphoria.
I feel like my insides have bee scooped out with a spoon. A silver spoon from my grandmother’s antique tea service, to be exact. I’m not coherent. I would like to smash things, but society dictates a certain set of rules that I (sigh) must follow. The fridge smells like it’s been stuffed with roadkill. [...]
Will Just Rock.
It’s Friday, the chloroform of the week. Friday, blessed Friday, Good Gad, I thought you’d never come.
Exams are over, and, if you are looking for me this weekend, I’ll be the sleepy-eyed girl in orange pajamas curled up with her one and only tru luv (and that would be Sushi, my computer).
This weekend…it will just rock.
And Since We've Got No Place To Go.
Exam week! Exam week! EXAM WEEK!
Ring the alarms, my brethren. Physics & Chemistry, Economics and French are TOMORROW.
Three…two…one…AND CUE THE HYSTERICS!
Well, I Don’t Know If You Ever Wanted To Be A Teacher, But I’m Kinda Glad You Are.
My music teacher is like a ruffled bird, straight and stiff. He has a slightly angry, bemused air. I find him to be fascinatingly funny. The general consensus agrees with this. Though there are those who purse their lips at his swaying, snapping dance moves (proof, I believe, of their envy. At the last school [...]
Dear Body.
Dear body,
Over the past twenty-four hours, I’ve tossed into you two cups of coffee, seven pieces of buttered bread, two bowls of kidney-bean chili, three baked potatoes, three cream-filled Swedish candies and four fat Vitamin C tablets.
Stomach – I know you hate me for this grave misdemeanor. You have my heartfelt apologies. It’s term exam [...]
A Little Something To Remember.
If you are a high school boy, I strongly suggest you avoid antagonizing me. For the rest of the week, at the very least. I am not going to be particularly happy. If you value your limbs or your dignity, you’ll follow my advice.
And good Gad, you better not call me emotional. Or weird, or an [...]
A Morning In The Life.
Today was one of those mornings when my mother has to grab me by the ankles and tug to remove my nails from the sheets. I put on my shirt backwards, and took a whole ten minutes to help Weiner with his pants (such a daunting enterprise!) because, despite being maniacal, feral children in the mornings, we both [...]
Day Of Our Dead.
There are no children in the patio today, save for that stray child trotting around morosely, kicking around wet leaves and screaming “Ole! Ole! Ole!” for no apparent reason. I wonder what his mother has been feeding him. I wonder if I should contact Social Services.
Today, children are being forced into suits and dark dresses, [...]
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