May 15th, 2002


I swear to god, if I weren't so apathetic, I'd be fucking PISSED. Oh yeah. And: "..."

I hate my Multi-Media project. Not for existing; it can't really help that the teacher is an idiot and assigned it. I hate it because now I've done it approximately 2.5 times.
#1 - during first period. Saved. Done. Just needed to convert to .swf format and import into Director for the final presentation. Opened during 4th period. About to save. Server crashed. File still there. Rebooted computer (froze with server crash). Attempted to open... *bloop* "Unexpected file format!" FUCK YOU, MACROMEDIA FLASH.
#2 - Decided that if nothing else, I could redo most of it, since once I type something I tend to remember it. It would be a fairly simple matter to just redo it. So I got to work. Computer decided to freeze and had to be restarted. I had forgotten to save it. Was about 3/4 through.
#3 - Gritting my teeth, I tried again. Once more got about 3/4 of the way through, typing and clicking like a madwoman. Then my teacher came over to give me a grade. I explained what had happened. She wrote something down. Apparently I can present tomorrow for a maximum grade of 70. This is the final. But if I get a low grade on it, I will have to be present for the final exam time because unless I make a 72 or higher this six weeks, I will not be exempt. But since this is the final, I will have nothing to do. That makes NO SENSE. After she left, the computer crashed again with it saved at about the halfway finished point and I think my brain broke and/or I just fucking gave up.
roawr. Or something.
*squelches intense urge to kill under the Fluffy Blanket of Apathy*

Gave my speech in English. I followed a bunch of people talking about their friends. I did not want to talk about my friends. "Uh, my best friend apparently won't speak to me and I've never met most of the people who can tolerate me, and I'm going to a college where no one will ever have known me and I think I really don't feel sad about leaving at all, in fact, I can't wait to leave everyone behind..." yeeeeah. Nuh-uh. I babbled some nonsense about people-watching all through high school and got out alive. Go me.
All this talk of high school is making me nostalgic.
Not for my high school years...
For Makenzie's.
This is very, very weird. Eh.
After tonights Red and White game (where our JV team plays the varsity. Very informal. No uniforms) I will never have to touch my clarinet again. I'd burn it, but apparently you don't burn expensive chunks of wood, no matter how evil.
My stomach pains. Hrm.
Apparently my mother purchased yearbooks without consulting me. (she seems to realize that doing things without telling me is the only way to get me to do anything remotely social. *cough*band trip*cough*. Now the yearbook. What, did she think I'd want someone to sign it? pffft. My yearbooks have become progressively sadder things over the years. I'm not even going to bother bringing it to school this year. Not worth it. And I hate signing yearbooks. Mostly because the people who ask are the people I don't particularly care about at all. They exist, and beyond that they matter very little to me and have made absolutely no impact on my life. I have not knowingly made any on theirs. I'm just there and so I am their unfortunate victim when the yearbook puts out the Hypno-rays and the voice in their head chants: "SIGN THE YEARBOOK! SIGN THE YEARBOOK!" Then they get this crazed sort of glassy-eyed look and if I weren't so stupid, I'd take that as my cue to run. But no, I sit there and I am asked to sign.
Was only asked once this year so far, by the not-so-bright girl in Networking. Hopefully that will be all.
My ear itches. How very odd. *scratchy scratchy*

And I am beginning to feel the familiar panic, the oh-my-god-it's-over-I'm-leaving feeling, knowing that everything I know and have become comfortable with is going to change. I'm not sad, nor am I really happy about the change, but it should prove interesting because it will be different. It's been the same thing for four years now. I have always felt like a freshman and always been mistaken for a senior. Even now every so often I catch myself thinking "it'll be weird without the seniors in band", and then I remember I am one of them and I too will be leaving. I see the preparation for next year, I hear plans for the summer and discussion of officers and drum majors for 2002-2003. And I will not be there to see it. There will be a crop of freshmen who I will not terrorize and drive around after practices. There will be music I do not see and do not play, practices I do not amble through, and sets I do not learn. And it will be weird. (I find it mildly amusing that band is the only thing I really remember about high school)
I think I made my ear bleed. My nails are sharp and pointy.
Bell rang. Whoops.
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