Her name was Lola...

...crap. I don't want to go back to school tomorrow. I'm not ready to return to days controlled by a bell... buzzer... thing. I really thought I was going to get a lot accomplished in the 10 days that I was alotted for eating, but mostly I've just been... eating. And hanging out with all the lucky bastards that get to go to college *nostalgic moment*. I think the worst part about being a senior is that there's no one left to look up to. Sure, it's nice to be reverred in the eyes of the lower classes every once in a while, but meh... I miss the college-folk.

Fencing hurts so good. Seven hours of sword-play seems wrong... yet it feels so right. Until today, when I can't feel my legs or my lower-back. I think I'll just drag myself around the house with my arms for a while. And when they give out, I'll just flop. Like a fish. A fish that refuses to use its arms or legs.

December 15th at 4:00 pm I'll find out about Cornell. And yes, I am shitting my pants about it. As much as I consider myself the scholarly-atheist-based-on-science type, I really am very superstitious. I rely on instinct a little too much and totally take omens and premonitions seriously. Even talking about this right now is deterring my chances of getting in. So I'll stop.

I wish I liked my family more. Life would probably be at least somewhat easier that way. I think I've decided that my father is like one of those old dogs that is deaf and blind in one eye and just sits around all day barking and growling at anything that comes near him. The worst part is they all have this vision in their minds that I'm the depressed stereotypical teenager who mopes around the house all the time being bitter and rebelling against life. And then they spread this view to my extended family. So by the time Christmas rolls around, everyone is just sitting around drinking beer and playing cards and making fun of me for being a moody teenager... which doesn't really help the situation at all. So now I just feel alienated from all of them, and am pretty sure that, eventually, I'm going to fake my own death and get a face implant to get away.

Everybody... come!

But not like that... well, maybe a little like that. It's ok. We'll all pretend like it didn't happen. There's no shame in ejaculation.

What? Oh... yeah, NHS Movie Night. It starts at 7 in the auditorium. TONIGHT!!! Bring old winter clothing and blankets that you plan to donate (no, Maca, it's not a pajama party. But you should wear your pajamas anyway). If I find out that you've read this, and don't see you there, I will beat you. Oh how I will beat you.

Hugs and Kisses,
Mistress Lisa

"I want your seed."

I'm back! Actually, I was here all along; trying to post and then deleting it all and then posting again and then getting distracted by shiny objects and etc. But this time I've got five shots of espresso in my blood, and all is well.

I really hate caffeine. It's like my brain is going at full speed, but there's no contents for it to process. Like when you don't put anything in the microwave and then let it run on high-power for 5 minutes. Ordinarily, when you put things in the microwave, they get hot and (generally) delicious. But when you have an emptiness and microwaves slicing through the void... badness ensues. Or maybe it's more like a blender... I hope my mind isn't like a blender... such a primitive kitchen appliance.

I think it would be kind of fun to eat your way out of a coffin made of german chocolate cake.

I'm really starting to hate AP students, which is most inconvenient as I am around them for most of the day. Freshman year was all well and good, because the advanced classes were for the over-achievers or the people who actually gave a shit about school. And that's fine. Education = good. Wisdom = better. Knowledge = overrated. Over the past three years, however, we have mutated. And not like swanky X-men mutated where you get laser vision and big shiny blue tits, but like cocky-arrogant-conceited-fuckers mutated. It seems like every class I go to there is some little taint sitting in the corner snickering and bitching under their breath about how they possess more knowledge in the lower left lobe of their liver than any of their teachers/peers could ever fathom. Humility, you cunt!

Here's the reason why we have a shitty English teacher this year: no one else wants to teach us. We walk in the door ten minutes late. We scoff at every assignment we consider below us. We critique every move, thought, and waking moment as if our education were a dish we were being served in a classy restaurant. This teacher is undercooked/too salty/has mustard on it/looks like the testicle of a chinchilla. So I blame you, AP student. I blame me. I blame everyone that has ever had their thumb far enough up their butt to think that they were better than anyone else. Fuck you.

I have a feeling I'm going to die this year.

I have a feeling I'm not going to get into Cornell, but I'm going to be ok with it.

I have a feeling that we aren't as complicated as we seem.

I have a feeling that 79% of the people that started reading this have stopped by now. But I'm ok with that too.

And now! for the Christmas list... just in case you needed some ideas, and you honestly think you can please me with material objects... which you totally can, by the way.

-Wierd inexpensive flashy jewelry (except watches... I hate watches... bojangly earrings kick ass *hint* *hint*)
-Notebooks
-Books
-Pictures of yourself (I have no pictures of my friends... seriously)
-Henna
-New hair color
-New piercing
-New family
-Spontaneous (and appropriate) messages left on my driveway in sidewalk chalk (as much as I love scrubbing penises off pavement... yeah.)
-***Illegally burned CD's with your favorite songs on them.*** (asterisks for emphasis)