the day of defeat

Yeah, sorry about the previous entry. I didn't set my imood indicator as 'exhausted' for kicks. People attempted to initiate a conversation with me, and I was practically nodding off to sleep. I bet that gave them warm fuzzies inside, resting in assurance that I couldn't even pretend that I was vaguely interested in what they had to say to me.

Not much happened today worthy of writing about, really. My entire life reminds me of the instructions printed on shampoo bottles: 'Lather product into damp hair. Rinse. Repeat as necessary.' It's the 'repeat as necessary' part that sounds familiar, by the way.

To veer from the topic slightly, whenever a joke or whatnot completely goes over someone's head, I get this vivid mental image. This said vivid mental image includes a net, except without the net part. You know, basically a ring on a stick. However, the person wielding the net is unaware of the lack thereof, so they stalk out in search of a butterfly worthy of capture. Once they find a beautiful butterfly they want to catch, they smirk smugly. The net is swung with graceful accuracy, and --

the butterfly remains completely uneffected and flits on.

I can almost hear that hollow WOOSH!-ing noise.

But yeah. Moving on. While I was in school today, I noticed this chunk of white stuff sitting peacefully on the floor. I had no idea what the hell it was, but it looked something like a giant malformed sugar cube. Having no reasons not to do so, I stepped on this unknown substance.

I blame my stupidity on my youth.

It didn't occur to me what it was until after my shoe had sunken into the mystery material. Apparently someone got a little too trigger-happy with their deodorant and half the stick busted off and hit the floor. I bet they prayed to whatever would listen that some dumbass freshman would step in it. Damn. I was running around in circles like a chicken who had recently lost its head in the field of battle, frantically scraping the bottom of my shoe against lockers in a sorry attempt to rid myself of the damned deodorant.

Sadly, this was the high-point of my day.

Feel free to deliver packages of sympathy. For those of you that've previously left me notes, thanks muchly!

Oh, and you know what else? According to this, my diary is 'a wonderful diary that should be on everyone's favorite's list.'

I love the way the comments were so blunt and to the point in that review of my diary, without excessive explanations and whatnot.

After parent-teacher conferences last week, my mom reported that while standing in line to speak with my math teacher, some other fool was engaged in a conference ahead of them. My mom missed most of what was said, but their conversation was a lengthy and serious one, as emphasized by the thirty minutes that was spent there.

Upon reaching the table after the previous parent was finished, my parents introduced themselves.

'Ah yes, Kate,' my math teacher said pensively, nodding. She slipped her reading glasses farther down the bridge of her nose, giving her a rather intimidating presence. 'A hard worker, very diligent; intelligent; definitely a quiet one. A good student.' It took her less than thirty seconds, whereas the conference beforehand had dragged on for thirty minutes, to illustrate to my parents that I was the epitome of excellence (well, something like that, at least).

Since then, I have concluded that my greatness transcends a bulk of words. This only further proves it.

Don't worry, I laughed in pity of myself when I thought up that conclusion, too.