This can't be healthy...

It's almost one in the morning and I can't go to bed because everytime that I lay down, I get all spastic and twitchy. And then I remember something that I've forgotten to do, and so I get up and do it. And after I lay back down, I start twitching again...

Therefore, I'm dropping AP Euro. Because, naturally, the origin of all my problems lies in trying to remember the names and numbers of every single pope and king within a three hundred year period and then noting their significance in the great scheme of the development of Medieval Europe. Naturally.

... and because I don't deal with stress well. I can't pull off 7 AP classes because I'm not Steve Qin. Plus, I've always been a fan of that "regular eating and sleeping schedule" thing.

So there. That's it. I'm giving up. Throwing in the towel. Pulling the plug. Trading in my beanie babies.

I'm sorry, B3. You were the coolest class ever. And, yes, I am a giant pussy for running away. But it's better to be a sane pussy than an twitchy, exhausted, prone-to-minor-nervous-breakdowns-at-one-in-the-morning over-achiever.

"I've got a phosphorescent secret..."

I just had one of those moments of revelation that is so crammed full of truth and pain that they slam themselves against one another and make this horrible pang of mortality.

I am mediocre.

Seriously. I am. And I'm not just throwing this out there as bait for pity. Pity is disgusting, and those that hunger for it even more so. I'm not smart. I'm not pretty or charming or promising. I'm just a chick with big thighs and an insatiable thirst for perfection. I might stand out in Brazoswood as an "exemplary student", but that's highschool. And highschool is not the world.

And that scares me.

So here's the thing...

I may or may not have signed up for a few AP classes. And I may or may not have under estimated the work load that I would be taking on. And I may or may not be too stubborn to admit my error and fix the situation (and until I do, the fountain of bloggage won't exactly be flowing).

So that's me. But how are you?

The Quest for Cannoli

Pictures pictures pictures!... courtesy of my shitty photography skills.





... and so the people flocked to the mediocre restaurant in search of over-priced, semi-authentic Italian food.



I love this picture, and I don't know why. Damn you for being so photogenic!



"Will you be my friend?"



Oh Megs, you're so adorable. I would pinch your cute wittle cheeks, but I'm pretty you could beat me up. Therefore, I shall refrain.



Awww... he's so cute when he's trying to make a point.



'At's a spicy meat-a-ball. (Sorry, I couldn't suppress it.)



I love you, Danika.



This is what Katherine looks like just before she is about to deliver the smack down with a bitchy comment. Rock on, sista.



Perky as a nipple in January.



Cannoli! Mmm, kinky.



Oh, Jeffy. You slutty slutty gay man you.

2 down, 261 to go...

...days, that is. Of school that is. For all of you Einsteins who couldn't figure it out. *Rolls eyes*... *spits on you in her mind*.

Senior year, bitches! Wooooo! Woooooo! Wooooooooooooooooooooo... *gasp*... ooooooooooo!

Ok. Now what?

Update: I have just been informed that my count down to graduation is actually off by 30 or so. Oh well, I'll just blame my shitty public education. Woooooo! I'm a future leader of America!

.. and best of all, this year is not going to suck *knocks of wood* because:
a) 37.5% of my classes have windows... with natural light... and a view of the outside world! *craps pants*
b) I know all my teachers and they know me. And that is nice.
c) In one year, I'm not going to have to come back.

... but it might just end up sucking after all because:
a) Carolyn is abandoning us all for independence and greater things (damn you for having more balls than the rest of us).
b) There are so many horrible flaws with the new cafeteria, it ain't even funny.
c) The new bell... as Meagan has stated... is shit.
d) Navigations class! Another 30 minutes of my life wasted to have more optimistic propaganda shoved down my throat.

...umm... and that's all. Wow. These bloggings just keep getting worse.


Way too much enthusiasm.

Oh sweet youth...

There's nothing quite like rummaging through a stack of old family albums to make you feel like shit. Or maybe it's the obscene amounts of water that I've been drinking of late... *gurgle*... the waiter at Red Lobster actually laughed at me because I drank so much at dinner. And then he went and got me another, because waiters/waitresses aren't real people. They're just slaves in disguise.

What was I saying?

Oh... right. I know it's hard to believe, and I would under most circumstances despise someone who talked like this... but back in my youth, I was adorable! If my scanner weren't busy being a peice of Hewlett-Packard shit, I would post some pictures on here. But oh well.

Yes, back in the day I never had to worry about a GPA or calories or fashion trends. I could wear an over-sized t-shirt with acid stained jean shorts, purples socks with purple lace and muddy black nike high-tops while eating a slice of pecan pie bigger than my face and still feel good about myself. Oh how I long for a time when I actually missed my parents when they went away... and Christmas still felt Christmas-ey... and vacations were the fun part of the summer. Back in the day, I didn't have to make up drama in my life to keep it interesting. *sigh*

This is beautiful. After a while your brain just gives out...

Ode to The Red Neck

Git 'er dun!

And thus the silence was broken!

Oh my god, I'm back again... dun dunnuhnuh. *thrust* *thrust*

Hell yeah I went there... HELL YEAH! Dammit, now that song is stuck in my head.

Thrust on brothers and sisters of love! (Tehe. Coach Roberts. Your pants don't fit you correctly.)

Alright... *claps hands and rubs them together like she is about to make an important statement*... medical conference! Wootah! And apparently everyone and their momma wants to be a pediatrician. EVERYONE! It's like all of a sudden the world started loving small helpless children. When did that happen? But when I grow up, I want to look inside of cooters and birth babies. Some people call it Obstetrics/Gynecology... and so do I. Honestly, I just wanted to say "cooter".

Then I went to Michigan, where my ego was thoroughly trampled and spat upon by my lovely extended family... *flashback*

"So... Lisa, you want to be a doctor?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about it."

"Well, I'm sure you've got the grades, dear. Now if only you didn't hate other people so much-"

"Wait. I don't hate other people. What are you-"

"Now let's be honest with ourselves for a moment. You hate other people, and other people hate you back. In fact, I'm hating you right now!"

"Guh?"

"That's alright, dear. Why don't you just save yourself the money and years of schooling and get a nice steady job as a bitch for Dow?"

... *unflashback* Ok. Maybe that's not exactly how it went, but that's how it felt. *Hugs self*.