fuh-resh, oh yes.
my alarm clock rings at 5:00 am, and i sort of wake up in a half-sense of reality. i go back to sleep, and i awake at 5:30 to my mom saying, "this is why you are always late." so i take my shower, eat my two pancakes for breakfast, and head out to my monday at renton highschool.
in zero period, i remember that we are taking a test on the g major scale, of which i haven't learned at all. but me and ricky are like, "oh well," and we go for it, in a very unpleasant and out of tune fashion. i am tone deaf. once it is all over, i say to ricky, "it's a work of art, what we do," and he replies with "heh, yeah." ms. dosch follows us up with a comment for ricky's performance, "ricky, very interesting fingering," she says, "BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CREATIVE!"
first period, like always, is a load of crap. mr. dowd treats us like grade schoolers, and we relearn some ultra-fucking basic design principles. we reach an all time low, by analzying the symmetry and asymmetry of a fucking pencil. even though this is a web design class, mr. dowd tells us we will be making our actual web sites towards the end of this year, like january. "fuck you, man," is all i have to say about that.
onwards, rushing to second period, i arrive in mr. day's class. good ol' american studies. my group, which includes lexter, jason, kirandeep, and minh-tu, actually does some productive work. i am proud. however, all through the period, i await the ringing of the bell that signals our break time.
*beeeeep* break is all right. i see a couple of people voting for homecoming court, but then i remember that i don't give a fuck about it, even though i have been nominated for our junior class, and so i turn around, and steal alan bautista's little black bouncy ball. i run up to the second floor, and toss it back to him, and i run again, away from the souless administrator that would have otherwise "had a word" with me.
third period, american studies part deux, and all i can think of is lunch time.
*beeeeep* lunch is all right. i do my spanish homework, and eat some chips and warm cheese sticks.
fourth period is sort of hair-wrecking, as i am behind on my spanish skiiing terms. the assistant spanish teacher's american accent, while she speaks spanish, is sort of cute.
fifth period biology, for the first 40 minutes, is just working out of the book to complete a worksheet. but the last fifteen minutes get interesting, as winmill scientifically ponders our existence, in contrast to a perspective based on philosophical theology. it brings me back to my freshman year, when i used to think love was just a chemical reaction. winmill goes on and on, excitedly, about our molecules and dna formulating the sole purpose of our lives, ideas which would have made any calvinistic puritan furious. an onlooking spectator would have seen me and rj just laughing in the back, and made the assumption that we're elitests of some existentialist thought movement. boy, does this bring me back to me, as a 9th grader.
sixth period is just chill, sort of. tyree rubs a newspaper in my face, and i get ink all around my eyes. then anthony punches me in the stomach, and i whip my elbow into his spine, in retaliation. we are journalism students; talking stick reporters. it's a beautiful thing. somewhere during all of this crazyness, i mug at linda, and she gets back at me by laying down 14 assignments due for muckerheide's independent study calculus class, due by the end of this six week grading period.
cross country practice is what it's all about. i need some shorts to run in, and so does anthony, so we go back to his house. he doesn't have any clean pairs, so he puts on some sweat pants, even though the blazing sun is... well... blazing. i plan to do the same once we return to renton, but when we get back, gabe has an extra pair for me. they make me itch. then mustafa, seth, and i get into anthony's car, and ant just hits the pedal to the metal, towards kelsey-creek.
the car ride getting there is awesome. the wind is blowing, the music is setting the mood, and we're mugging and making faces at cars going by. then all of a sudden, we spot these teenage fags - no, not us - in a shitty brown car, with a racing stripe going down the middle of it's body. anthony picks up a pencil from under my feet (all the while driving at a high speed on the freeway), and waits for the right time, just before we get on to the exit ramp, and he chucks it at them.
the actual running part of practice becomes sort of a bummer for me. we all run these migraine-steep hills in some deep forest area, and i blast into first place for most of my first loop. devin, mustafa, and anthony are all screaming behind me, "we have to do this shit for 30 minutes," but no. do i listen? hardly not. i keep going at it, and after finishing my first loop, with a sense of accomplishment, i stop and bend down to tie my shoe. right then and there, do i notice that i am winded and tired, and when i try to run again, i feel myself falter and slow down. rob morrow, who we have just dubbed "fag," is running right in front of me now, and the distance between us keeps getting longer and longer. in sporadic bursts of energy, i race back to right behind him, but i hit a mental wall, and all i can think of is "fuck you, man."
all in all, i do about 3.2 loops, out of the 4 that were supposed to done by a quality "varsity runner," like devin and mustafa. anthony breaks out the guns, and does 4 of them himself, which is pretty impressive. he is now winmill's new sex child.
while running on the wooden trails/hills, i spot another team. after a pack of boys, a couple of girls show up, trailing behind. right at that moment, i'm walking up a hill, because i'm in "fuck you, man" mode, but one of the girls says "good job" to me, and it makes all of my wounds better. well, not quite. but it was cool to get some encouragement, or pity, from some female stranger.
then we run a couple of strides up a hill, which are supposed to be faster than race pace, and i do 5 of 6 strides. "fuck you, man," i'm tired. time for a cool down.
cool down, cool down, cool down. run, run run. running basically gets even more gay from here, but we stop for a drink of water, and to stretch.
i blow minh-tu a kiss, and she blows me a kiss back. i put in the copy of pinkerton (weezer) that tyree gave me today, in search of the perfect song to play for seth, which starts with the line, "goddamn you half japanese girls, you do it to me all the time..." right when i put it in, the stereo is on full blast, and i scream "HOLY SHIT BALLS MOTHERFUCKER" really loud, which cracks up seth. the people in linda's car look at me, and then we leave. the car ride back is just as fun as it was going the other way, and it feels just fucking cool to ride with these guys. mustafa mockingly nodding his head to semisonic is just precious, and him and seth just staring at marvin law's "hilarious face" in linda's car is just twice as funny.
we stop at renton. i see some people, but then me and ant just bounce. we spot japanese brian walking towards us, and he gives anthony the 411 on the tuxedo situation. i reach home. i eat a peanut butter jelly sandwich. i take a shower. i eat a banana. and then, i type up this pointlessly in-depth and long narrative.
i know i'll appreciate myself for writing this much, later on, but it takes so goddamn long for me to type all of this. well, i'm off to do all of my homework. peace.
my alarm clock rings at 5:00 am, and i sort of wake up in a half-sense of reality. i go back to sleep, and i awake at 5:30 to my mom saying, "this is why you are always late." so i take my shower, eat my two pancakes for breakfast, and head out to my monday at renton highschool.
in zero period, i remember that we are taking a test on the g major scale, of which i haven't learned at all. but me and ricky are like, "oh well," and we go for it, in a very unpleasant and out of tune fashion. i am tone deaf. once it is all over, i say to ricky, "it's a work of art, what we do," and he replies with "heh, yeah." ms. dosch follows us up with a comment for ricky's performance, "ricky, very interesting fingering," she says, "BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CREATIVE!"
first period, like always, is a load of crap. mr. dowd treats us like grade schoolers, and we relearn some ultra-fucking basic design principles. we reach an all time low, by analzying the symmetry and asymmetry of a fucking pencil. even though this is a web design class, mr. dowd tells us we will be making our actual web sites towards the end of this year, like january. "fuck you, man," is all i have to say about that.
onwards, rushing to second period, i arrive in mr. day's class. good ol' american studies. my group, which includes lexter, jason, kirandeep, and minh-tu, actually does some productive work. i am proud. however, all through the period, i await the ringing of the bell that signals our break time.
*beeeeep* break is all right. i see a couple of people voting for homecoming court, but then i remember that i don't give a fuck about it, even though i have been nominated for our junior class, and so i turn around, and steal alan bautista's little black bouncy ball. i run up to the second floor, and toss it back to him, and i run again, away from the souless administrator that would have otherwise "had a word" with me.
third period, american studies part deux, and all i can think of is lunch time.
*beeeeep* lunch is all right. i do my spanish homework, and eat some chips and warm cheese sticks.
fourth period is sort of hair-wrecking, as i am behind on my spanish skiiing terms. the assistant spanish teacher's american accent, while she speaks spanish, is sort of cute.
fifth period biology, for the first 40 minutes, is just working out of the book to complete a worksheet. but the last fifteen minutes get interesting, as winmill scientifically ponders our existence, in contrast to a perspective based on philosophical theology. it brings me back to my freshman year, when i used to think love was just a chemical reaction. winmill goes on and on, excitedly, about our molecules and dna formulating the sole purpose of our lives, ideas which would have made any calvinistic puritan furious. an onlooking spectator would have seen me and rj just laughing in the back, and made the assumption that we're elitests of some existentialist thought movement. boy, does this bring me back to me, as a 9th grader.
sixth period is just chill, sort of. tyree rubs a newspaper in my face, and i get ink all around my eyes. then anthony punches me in the stomach, and i whip my elbow into his spine, in retaliation. we are journalism students; talking stick reporters. it's a beautiful thing. somewhere during all of this crazyness, i mug at linda, and she gets back at me by laying down 14 assignments due for muckerheide's independent study calculus class, due by the end of this six week grading period.
cross country practice is what it's all about. i need some shorts to run in, and so does anthony, so we go back to his house. he doesn't have any clean pairs, so he puts on some sweat pants, even though the blazing sun is... well... blazing. i plan to do the same once we return to renton, but when we get back, gabe has an extra pair for me. they make me itch. then mustafa, seth, and i get into anthony's car, and ant just hits the pedal to the metal, towards kelsey-creek.
the car ride getting there is awesome. the wind is blowing, the music is setting the mood, and we're mugging and making faces at cars going by. then all of a sudden, we spot these teenage fags - no, not us - in a shitty brown car, with a racing stripe going down the middle of it's body. anthony picks up a pencil from under my feet (all the while driving at a high speed on the freeway), and waits for the right time, just before we get on to the exit ramp, and he chucks it at them.
the actual running part of practice becomes sort of a bummer for me. we all run these migraine-steep hills in some deep forest area, and i blast into first place for most of my first loop. devin, mustafa, and anthony are all screaming behind me, "we have to do this shit for 30 minutes," but no. do i listen? hardly not. i keep going at it, and after finishing my first loop, with a sense of accomplishment, i stop and bend down to tie my shoe. right then and there, do i notice that i am winded and tired, and when i try to run again, i feel myself falter and slow down. rob morrow, who we have just dubbed "fag," is running right in front of me now, and the distance between us keeps getting longer and longer. in sporadic bursts of energy, i race back to right behind him, but i hit a mental wall, and all i can think of is "fuck you, man."
all in all, i do about 3.2 loops, out of the 4 that were supposed to done by a quality "varsity runner," like devin and mustafa. anthony breaks out the guns, and does 4 of them himself, which is pretty impressive. he is now winmill's new sex child.
while running on the wooden trails/hills, i spot another team. after a pack of boys, a couple of girls show up, trailing behind. right at that moment, i'm walking up a hill, because i'm in "fuck you, man" mode, but one of the girls says "good job" to me, and it makes all of my wounds better. well, not quite. but it was cool to get some encouragement, or pity, from some female stranger.
then we run a couple of strides up a hill, which are supposed to be faster than race pace, and i do 5 of 6 strides. "fuck you, man," i'm tired. time for a cool down.
cool down, cool down, cool down. run, run run. running basically gets even more gay from here, but we stop for a drink of water, and to stretch.
i blow minh-tu a kiss, and she blows me a kiss back. i put in the copy of pinkerton (weezer) that tyree gave me today, in search of the perfect song to play for seth, which starts with the line, "goddamn you half japanese girls, you do it to me all the time..." right when i put it in, the stereo is on full blast, and i scream "HOLY SHIT BALLS MOTHERFUCKER" really loud, which cracks up seth. the people in linda's car look at me, and then we leave. the car ride back is just as fun as it was going the other way, and it feels just fucking cool to ride with these guys. mustafa mockingly nodding his head to semisonic is just precious, and him and seth just staring at marvin law's "hilarious face" in linda's car is just twice as funny.
we stop at renton. i see some people, but then me and ant just bounce. we spot japanese brian walking towards us, and he gives anthony the 411 on the tuxedo situation. i reach home. i eat a peanut butter jelly sandwich. i take a shower. i eat a banana. and then, i type up this pointlessly in-depth and long narrative.
i know i'll appreciate myself for writing this much, later on, but it takes so goddamn long for me to type all of this. well, i'm off to do all of my homework. peace.
posted by Jocagu at 9/23/2002 06:53:00 PM
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