this week has been hell

This entire week has been out to get me -- it took away my koishii along with the three days that I slaved over my research paper, and has made attending school a living hell. So conniving was this week that it decided to mask the beginning of today under a fa�ade of laughter and good intent. At least, it felt that way after it decided to treat me like one of those circus elephants and provoke an eruption of laughter from the audience on my behalf. I pushed through the doors to first period with five seconds to spare. If I believed in things occurring out of nowhere for no reason whatsoever, I'd say that was luck.

In photography, Kelly (a fellow classmate who often ignores any commentary I make) mentioned that she and Jessica (another student who likes Slipknot, even though they look like a sickly cross between car mechanics and clowns and they can't sing to save whatever piddly amount of their souls remain) had completely spindled packaging and masking tape around Andy while I was out of school on Monday and Tuesday. Kelly created a tape-message on the back of Andy's shirt that read, "I am a fish," given that his shirt depicted fishing rods and such (and yes, Resa, I know -- your mother is a fish). Eventually, however, he got a hold of the packaging tape, so Kelly and I followed him into the darkroom and cornered him therein. One thing led to another, and soon we had trapped him under a table in a developing station and used our legs much like bars on a jail cell. He attempted to escape a few times, but not after we wrapped a mammoth strip of tape around his head. After that he pretty much drew back and began removing the tape, shrill noises of womanish pain emitting from under the table periodically. We held Andy captive for around ten minutes, in which time a few upperclassmen passed by and, upon asking if someone was underneath the table, looked upon Andy with pity and muttered, "Dude, those two girls are kicking your ass." That was about when Kelly and I cackled maniacally and began poking Andy's quivering body with our shoes. Near the end of the period, he somehow gathered whatever scraps of masculinity remained and burst free of his cage, scuttling out of the darkroom and into the light (the light of the classroom, we didn't kill him).

Things, as usual, seemed to go downhill during lunch. For reasons unbeknownst to me, whenever someone plops down next to me, they seem rabid as they crank their heads around, anxiously scouting out a new seat next to someone else, even if the only open seat is next to Matt, someone who seems to forget where his mouth is right as his handful of food is lunging towards his face. Nick sat next to me, as he does most days, listening to me sparingly and never wanting to instigate conversation himself unless it revolves around his bitterness that stems from his not having a girlfriend. Even then, he won't elaborate any further than it suits him, so it leaves a sour tinge instead of actual input. I couldn't even guess as to why Nick feels the way he does; not only have I never desperately yearned for a boyfriend, but more often than not I've grimaced at the thought of having one. It pissed me off the way people treated me as though I was some sort of ambassador, so whenever they had discrepancies with my boyfriend they came sobbing to me, like I was supposed to wag my finger at him and shove him into the corner or something. Anyway, I got a piece of gum from my backpack, unwrapped it, popped it into my mouth, etc., so Nick suddenly decided he wanted a piece of gum as well and ripped my backpack away from me. I found this incredibly suspicious given that Nick has informed me of his severe distaste for gum, and had he sincerely wanted a stick of gum he would've requested one instead of suddenly tearing my backpack away from him. After failing a game of tug-of-war with him, I snatched my band folder up from the lunch table and beating his arms and shoulders with it, which caused various surrounding people to question as to why I was abusing him. Just as abruptly as the fun and games had began, Nick's face went rigid as he noticed the myriad of battle wounds on his arm, and he gave me this expression of disbelief, like I was terribly out of line for doing what I had done. I guess he thought I was joking when I tried in vain to regain possession of my backpack and pry his hands away. I didn't see the point in drawing him a picture of how I felt considering that he rarely seems to listen to me anyway, along with the fact that he seems to highly value the formerly-abuse aspect of our twisted relationship, a part whose absence I have not missed. It often seems as though he was merely practicing his acting skills when he claimed that I was his friend, because unless I'm poking or demonstrating some form of physical aggression, I'm like a knickknack without batteries, or something. Regardless, Nick immediately released his hold on my backpack at that point and set my pack of gum back on the table, so I took advantage of the situation, packed up all of my loose belongings, and then headed off to economics.

Nothing of interest occurred for the rest of the day, other than being annoyed to no end by Padhraig. It seems as though he's in this unshakable fortress of denial the way he keeps denouncing that he (1) doesn't constantly try to one-up everyone, even though he elaborated upon his koala-holding experiences after Pat spoke of holding chickens and provided us with a completely unnecessary array of facts that we already knew, along with his never-ending road trip with his family after hearing about Pat's two-week road trip with his; and (2) constantly belittles and acts condescendingly towards others. Padhraig never seems to believe me when I mention something about it, even though the majority of his friends have wholeheartedly agreed with me upon my complaining about it.

After school I filed outside so I could stand on the sidewalk. The orders from the band's annual plant sale filled a large portion of the parking lot, so because of the clusters of people mulling around, I decided to move somewhere my mom would see me so she wouldn't have to look for me among the crowds. The high point of my day was weaving through the countless rows of flowers and admiring how pretty they looked instead of the usual, an abandoned sidewalk that sometimes harbors the short buses. When my mom eventually pulled up, she saw straight through me and continued driving towards the parking lot, so I had to chase after her and knock on the window so she'd stop the car long enough for me to get in. She barely did, chiding at me to hastily throw my belongings in the back seat and climb in the car. As soon as she heard the click of my seatbelt securing, she immediately launched into an exasperated complaint session, bitching about how painstakingly long and draining her day had been thus far, and all she had done was sit in an aggravating cluster meeting. I felt like reminding her that school was like a series of aggravating cluster meetings, seven of them in a row that lasted for an hour each, except, unlike the meeting she attended, students aren't allowed to speak their minds at school. I said nothing, though, because it seems as though parents miraculously forget the difficulties of school once they join the workforce.

I got a bagel at the bagel store that neighbors Starbucks, because I was slightly hungry and didn't predict that the bagel would end up being more food than necessary. However, upon getting out of the car when my mom pulled into our driveway, I felt like inserting a little puddle of puke onto our lawn. I vowed never to consume another bagel adorned with plain cream cheese until someone puts me in a home and one of the staff assumes my adamant refusal against bagels runs parallel to my claim that the US is still involved in the Civil War.

I listened to my Chrono Cross soundtrack and surfed through DiaryLand until my parents arrived home from work with a pizza, as they do every Friday night. Still tainted from the bagel I had almost purged earlier, I refused to eat any pizza.

The day worsened considerably later on, but I'm no longer in the mood to relive it.

The end.