I can't stop shaking... I kept missing notes during band, I couldn't even hold a pencil during English, and now I have to type at half my normal speed so I can correct my mistakes - and there are many....
I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. Every time I sleep I wake in a few short hours. I can't lie still enough to sleep. I can't get warm enough to sleep.
I lay in bed from midnight to four this morning trying to get some rest. It didn't work.
We have a concert today. I tried on my dress last night to see if it still fit. It's too big. I don't care.
I came into the band hall today. Everyone was sitting in a circle sans our usual chairs - those are in the auditorium. I couldn't feel my hands, as is common on cold mornings. I tried to hold onto Michael's arm to warm up. He moved away. That's not unusual either - he doesn't like to be hugged, touched, etc. 'Least not in public. But today it bugged me. I don't know why. It just hurt. I'm not mad at him; I should be used to it by now. I'm more mad at myself for not expecting it. No matter how many times he tells me it's not because he hates me; it's just that he's not fond of touchy-feely stuff; that's still the impression I get. I guess I'll just have to live with it.
There was a meeting with a representative for UT Austin during homeroom. I went. I want to go there, I suppose. Compared to how much I want to go to A&M or U of H, I guess it's my first choice school. But I'm an idiot. Stopped caring last year. Fucked over my GPA. I'm in the third quarter of my class, and the bottom of that. I'm hoping my SAT score will help, but I'm not really holding my breath for an acceptance letter. I need to think of who I can get to write a recommendation for me. I've never done anything particularly outstanding in my classes. My 9th grade geography teacher absolutely loved me, but she's a complete idiot and I wouldn't trust her to write a rec without plenty of spelling and grammatical errors. Maybe Marc, one of the managers at TAS. He was my favorite manager... and I guess he liked me allright. I like to think I did a good job there, maybe he could do something. He's intelligent enough to write a credible-sounding rec, no problem. I guess I'll stop by TAS tomorrow. Or maybe Thursday if I don't feel like going to anime club.
I have to go home during lunch and get some images for Brittany to use as her desktop in networking or she will slaughter me. She wants the picture of Mak from page 19. I've got it on my comp. I'll see if I can't zip a few more desktops onto the disk while I'm at it; give her a choice.
Ach, my head hurts. A stabbing pain every few seconds. I hope it goes away or the concert will be absolute hell.
Every day I go home after school and I do nothing. Working out is good for me but extremely detrimental to my mental stability - it gives me a few hours alone with myself, and I am not pleasant company when I'm around those I dislike. I stay at the computer, all chat programs switched off, or I go upstairs and sleep for about three hours. Then I do more nothing.
I miss my job so much. I can deal without having the money; I've done fine without it. I miss having something do do. Something that matters. Yeah, it took up all my time. I had no weekends. I had no afternoons on Thursday and Friday, either. But it was something to do, something I could do. I was resonably good at it. Regardless of my dislike for people in general under normal circumstances, I was good with the customers. There were a few elderly couples who would actually ask to see if I was there. Despite my tendency towards random memory lapses, and occasional blatent stupidity, my drawer was perfect every day for the last three months I was a casheir. I could work any area of the store, be it books, furniture, paper, boards, or the general floor. I was one of two people who knew anything about clay, and I'd used enough of almost every media we sold to be quite useful in helping people out. I was really good with people who were looking for ideas on school projects. My opinion and my ideas were worth something.
I miss it. I miss the people. I miss Marc; Sundays with him as the manager were always fun even when he was hung over. I miss Makenzie, out of fondness for whom I named my character. I miss Gino, her nutty boyfriend who was so much damn fun. I miss Efren, who I at first thought was too well-dressed to be straight - turned out he's just a bit fussy about his looks, he loves the ladies. I miss Jennifer, whose sarcasm and unique humor (lightly punching my arm whenever she saw me, scared the crap outta me at first) I had just gotten used to. I miss Julie, who was just so much fun. I miss Binaca (well, Bianca. We called her Binaca. And that was a typo, too.) because she was the only other person my age and we'd chat on Sundays when no one was in the store. I miss Roland, the loveable guy who bore an eerie resemblance to Jennifer's boyfriend. I miss Roger, the geeky furniture guy who was so very shy and always reminded me of Alan. I miss Mr. Vu, who knew everything about everything and reminded me of my dad and uncles the way he smiled and spoke with an accent - not a spanish accent, but still. I miss Cherie's sarcastic yet somehow motherly nature. I miss Michelle, who looked and sometimes acted 18 but was probably in her mid-twenties to early thirties. I even kinda miss Linda, the cranky boss who needed to have something in her life besides her job.
my hands are still shaking.