It is the the Junior Bash, some grand event I never bothered trying to understand. There's a chili cookoff of some sort (I don't trust anything made by students at this school, personally), a Mr. Legs contest where junior guys dress as women, and some other events I did not really pay attention to when they were listed. It means the entire student body has the ability to buy a ticket to get out of last period almost an hour early - career center schmucks aside, of course. No one is getting anything done today. In English the students convinced our teacher to let us watch Ferris' Beuler's Day Off and now we are watching Rat Race in Multi-Media. It allows me to type unhindered, which is nice.
It is Michael's mother's birthday today. I was unaware of this until he mentioned it this morning. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever met in my life. I think I shall get her some flowers.
I rarely seem to use this journal anymore. Hrm.
I went at lunch to the store and bought Michael's mother some flowers. I selected some cheery happy-looking yellow ones; they seemed appropriate for her. She has the sort of face that seems accustomed to smiles and laughter; even the very few times I've been called into her office (she is our grade-level counselor) to discuss my miserable grades and why I fail when I am supposed to be So Smart and Gifted and Talented according to some test I took when I was younger, even then she always wound up smiling or laughing and getting me to smile along. The flowers reminded me of her.
I love giving people things. Oh, that sounds so stupid. But I do. I love Christmas and other people's birthdays, and when they don't mind the attention I adore being given an opportunity to make a fuss over them. When I have the means, Christmas shopping for my family and friends will keep me busy for hours on end, searching endlessly for something that is Just Right and will make the perfect gift. But I never feel like what I can give them is good enough; it's never enough by any standards and I am sheepish and disappointed in myself and wish to deliver the gift in secret, pondering not telling them who it's from.
I took the flowers home and removed the horrid, ugly yellow-orange plastic around them, cutting out the circle at the bottom and placing it under the little pot so moisture could not soak through the tissue paper we had that I replaced it with, blue and purple and yellow squares in a pretty pattern, tied with a little ribbon and a small card reading "Happy Birthday" that I finally decided to sign after all. I drove back to school and deposited it in her office, escaped with no one noticing I was there, and went to career center. I saw Josh and Preston, who appear to be married or something (they are constantly together; I cannot recall ever seeing one without the other) and they recognized me as that weird person they took to see Blade 2 and we nodded and laughed in our mutual recognition and I drove away.
I did not buy an early dismissal ticket for the bash, which is a pity because it turns out I could have left early after all. But I suppose an extra hour of sitting on my ass pretending to be working won't kill me.
My face feels very warm. It always feels very warm in this class. Hrm.
Microsoft XP hurts my little eyes. Too fucking colorful and bright and cheery. FAR too cheery.
Gah, why did I just sign onto AIM? I don't want to talk to anyone. I would much prefer to avoid all human contact at the moment. But now there are three windows open and I feel like I cannot escape. Again. Damn it. I think I'm going to go take a nap. I feel tired and achey for some reason. My head is killing me and I am pissed at myself because I made dinner and I don't think it was anywhere near as good as it should have been.
Oh lovely. My stomach has decided to rebel with my head. yay. It's so naptime now.