xylophones and rollercoasters
In band today, Mr. Browne alerted us that, since the wind ensemble was having a concert later tonight, we were to spend the entire period serving as temporary slave labor by hauling chairs, music stands, and percussion equipment onto the stage. I absentmindedly pictured the members of wind ensemble in the eye of my mind -- frail, sickly folk who sat on padded seats preceding bay windows, melancholy tunes floating from their musical instruments, their eyes rimmed with bruise-like circles from crying while writing depressing poetry. I wondered what was preventing them from setting up stage themselves, and why we had to play lackey for them. The last time we pulled everything out on stage, the xylophone slipped from my hands on its precarious journey down the shallow steps, and half of the keys were upset after the entire instrument hit the floor with a resounding crash. I was going to insert commentary regarding my ineptness, but upon further inspection the event seems to speak for itself.
During second period, I realized that, while I had made a point to remember a sheet of tag board I needed as backing for our newspaper articles in economics, I had forgotten the array of articles and pictures that needed to be tacked onto the poster board in the first place. Thus, as I hurriedly typed the remainder of my biology lab report that was to be collected the following period, I logged into my e-mail account and sent a message or two to my mom at work, who agreed to swing by and pick me up come lunch time so I could tape various papers onto my empty poster board. In addition, I'd be able to doctor up the teeth punctures that studded one corner of the otherwise virgin tag board, holes that were created on nights that Tom (cat no. 2) became restless and decided to chew on whatever paper products his little cat lips could reach.
The rest of the day drifted by. I swiveled to the side and cooed "Nickel!" in wonderment when I spotted one on the staircase, and almost tripped a student who stumbled past me. My mom, as promised, stood waiting by the front entrance by the time the bell sounded signaling the beginning of lunch. My lunch period is a mere thirty minutes in length, and it takes ten minutes alone just to drive from school to home or vice versa. Therefore, when it came time to piece together the newspaper, I was in charge of cutting out the text and pictures and placing them in a pleasing arrangement, while my mom ripped pieces of tape from the roll and set my handiwork into place. I ended up returning to class somewhat late, but my group and I gave our presentation nonetheless.
On Saturday, Resa and I attended a nearby carnival and rode rides designated for small children. We spun in hollowed-out dragons so quickly that it wobbled, slid down inflatable slides and were warned against shoving the children, and shoved ourselves into small rollercoaster carts. We also followed a trail of dotted lines and messages drawn with chalk around the park and some streets close by.
G'night.