Friday, June 4, 2004

Spaniard! You've been impaled! Nooo! How could you do this to me?! You were too beautiful for this world...!!!

"Uhh...Ninja? I'm right here. That's a corpse." You just wait until Uber Ninja's an actual game and not just some crazy thing my friends and I take great delight in adding detail to!!! Then, that exchange will be famous and considered hilarious by all! You just wait... Then nobody will look at you funny when you run around screaming "Who's up for some uber-ninja snowboarding?!" No more will they look upon us as a collection of failures! >:^O We will own you all, and there's nothing you will be able to do about it. (That is: if.) *** It might sound weird, but I always, at this time of the year, have trouble deciding which I loath more utterly: the school year? or the summer? During the summer, I find myself forced into more boring, painfull, stress-inducing activies than during the school year. During the school year, I have a chance to get away from my family for about ten hours a day. This means that I don't have to have everything I say argued with, don't have to constantly hear that there is no comprehendable reason for my being allowed into academic math, that I'm greedy and rude, that I should talk more etc... for most of my waking hours. For two months of every year, I am stuck with this twelve hours a day (the half I'm not sleeping through), more often than not on a boat, with no degree of privacy aside from when one is in the head, no A/C, and NO COMPUTER. I know I must sound irritating and angst-ridden, but I have realized that there's really no part of the year (as a whole) that I enjoy. I've gotten to a point where I simply don't like being at home, where "Don't think there's anything special about you. I don't care how smart you think you are." and "You never have any regard for any one else." These two statements, the like of which I hear all-too-often, are probably the worst things I could ever hope to hear from my mother, of all people. The second one used to make me question my actions, and wonder if I was greedy and rude, but you know...whatever. Just. Whatever. I'm tired of trying to guess what she wants me to say and do every waking moment of my life. I can't help it if I'm not acing everything in school--and if I can, I don't care. And I don't care about the narrowed eyes and grunts of disgust when I tell her that I did tell her I was going to have a test, that I am capable of understanding more-than-basic things. And I don't care if she claims that I have "too much freedom." I can't help but O_o in referance to that, because I get yelled at for staying up past eleven on weekends. I remember when she wasn't trying to be a "perfect mother", when she didn't hound me while I was eating, when I could sit and draw for hours without it being a waste of my time. I remember when I had any shred of respect for myself. *** You ever notice how little kids are so motivated, until things start to matter? Life's funny that way, huh?

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