I love you, Brand New

Today was a very laid-back kind of day. I don't know. Felt like it. Didn't really do anything. Just sleep. And there was a lot of practicing guitar. And drawing. I'm trying to make another poster. If you've ever been in my room, you know there's that strip of cardboard that I drew on, and the pictures are kind of weird and cryptic. Yeah. But I'm working on a new one. Its kind of enjoyable. And I don't know why, but its getting me anxious. Because I think the guys I draw are cool. =)

Just kind of slept through most of the afternoon. That felt pretty good. I wish there were more days like this. More of these Fridays that seem like the last days of the school year. Its like a trip out. Its funny how you can trick your mind or your mind can trick you. I used to be able to do it all the time. Just concentrate hard and tell myself lies. I'm totally serious. Maybe that's why I'm kind of fucked up. Because I know everything negative about myself but I like to pretend that no one else sees it. And maybe its unhealthy. But what's healthy anyway. I think I want to major in Psychology if I don't get into any of the colleges I want to in Bioengineering. I want to understand people. Myself, too.

While walking to fourth period, we were talking about middle school and the Home Ec. teacher. Man, she was a bitch. I swear. If you don't like kids, don't fuckin teach. And if you ain't got patience, don't be a teacher. People these fuckin' days. Anyway, this was sixth grade. I believe I was very hyper. And I enjoyed it. But, fuck, we didn't learn anything. I remember baking cookies once, because my sister remembers eating them. Other than that, we put butter on a pan and threw bread in it. That's all I remember. And I remember we spent a lot of the time sewing a pillow. Mine was a watermelon. It got lost in the move to my new house. But yeah, this is what I remember. I also remember always talking. Then we'd be quiet while the boys were talking and listen to their conversation. Then we'd laugh and they'd get annoyed. Sixth grade--I remember getting in fights with boys. Jose. That fucker used to make me tie his shoe and sing a little song that involved the word "Boing" in not the most appropriate way. In some twisted way, I think I wanted to do those things. But then I'd always sock that fool on his arm. Whenever there was a substitute, we'd wait till his back was turned and exchange punches. I used to make Jose's eyes water. And Marcus. Marcus, I beat him down while we were waiting for Mr. Palla to open the door to our class. I literally beat him down. He sunk down against a wall while I punched him and didn't stop. I think Mr. Palla was amazed. But I didn't get in trouble, because, let's face it, I'm me. I walked around thinking I was the shit with bruises on my arms because I could make boys tear. That was sixth grade. I don't know why I look back fondly, but I do. But it sounds so neurotic, doesn't it?

Anyway, my dad is telling me to go to sleep now. What a crazy SOB. We sleep early 5 nights a week, and now we have to sleep early on weekends too? Fuck that. Kiss my ass. I'll probably sit in my bed and draw some more, listen to music. You know how it is. Goodnight readers.