Man I should stop talking because of course right when I acknowledge that life is good, then what happens but a shitty day. It's like, once I know that life is good, I have to work work work to keep it that way.
And when you're saying, "I am going to have a good day, damn it, whether I like it or not..." it doesn't really work.
Tomorrow is Friday.
What can I say.
Oh, only that I left homework at school.
Lovely.
There's another day late for that damned spanish homework.
I'm sorry.
Someone told me today as I was bitching about the disgusting state of my locker (It looks like someone carelessly threw all their shit in there...which is exactly what I did) that I worry too much about little things.
True.
I'm trying to calm the fuck down.
I don't know what it is. I don't know why I'm feeling so crazy. I don't know why my head is suddenly somewhere far, far away from here.
Take my volleyball practice today, for instance.
I couldn't. fucking. PLAY!
Felt like one of those freshman girls who steps on the volleyball court for the first time in her life in the hopes of actually enjoying high school. But oh, no, I have been playing since, what? -- Oh, right, 3rd grade. Every single year since 3rd grade I have joined the school volleyball team (with the exception of sophomore year), and somehow I still suck. Somehow it is still impossible for me to pass a volleyball to a girl standing five feet away.
It's kind of depressing.
So when I'm standing dejectedly on the volleyball court and sending balls flying about 4 miles away from where they should be, I marvel at how much talent I do not have for sports. It is not like I am one of those math nerds who never even looks at the gym so much as runs around in it. No. I have been an athlete since 3rd grade. Most people who play sports for years on end usually play, you know, well by the time they are a senior.
No, not me. No.
I realize that maybe I am just one of those people who is not cut out for sports. I've never dreamed of joining the Olympics or the WNBA. I have been known to enjoy volleyball games more for the hot guy sitting on the sidelines than for the way my team is actually playing. Score, who cares? So we're behind 30,000 points! That's not too bad! See, he's looking at me!
I'm pretty much a psycho when it comes to guys. Especially, you know, attractive ones.
But I am not going to get into that.
Unless you want to read 17 billion pages. Which you don't, I know. High school infatuation (madness, it is), what can I say?
I was talking about volleyball.
And me sucking at it.
And I had a good train of thought going about that, but it's almost gone.
But it's okay. It would have just been me bitching anyways. Same old shit.
Like my friend said, I am making a huge deal about little things.
I will shut up now.
I may not have any feasible talent, but .... well, I don't know what. But it could be worse, I guess.
Now check out this badass song!!
MCS love forever!
P.S. Thank you, Blogger, for your autosave function. I would have been very angry if it had not existed, Internet Explorer has the nerve to close on me unexpectedly. Props to you, Blogger.
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