Thursday, May 20, 2004

Parabola

Today in Journalism they were having this petty conversation and argument about a "potato gun." There is a story pertaining to this and thus they had the recipe--how you can make it, if you will--and I could not have cared less than I did. The class--as with all my other classes--has been a waste of time this year. I just want school to end. And I'm not excited about summer, either, because I'm just going to be working most of the time, because you need a thing called money to do anything in this world.

So, as they were having their stupid, petty argument over whether or not to include the recipe, and whatever the hell else, I was just typing randomly on the keyboard of the macintosh (crapintosh) computer I usually use. I wasn't even typing words. I was just sitting there jamming on it out of boredom of waiting.

A while later, Mr. Winter comes over and tells me what they are discussing is "very important" and that I should get off the computer and listen. So I do and I still don't pay attention.

Around this time is when my heavily pessimistic mood came in, and ever since then I've had it. I'm glad I feel like this. It's much better than being the affable, acting-like-I'm-happy Mitch I've been in the past few weeks.

In Geometry, we got our tests back. I got 70/100, which is good, but I have a 67.4%--barely missing a C. Which is dissapointing but I don't even know why I care and I don't really care, deep down. We have a quarter test in the class on Monday. If I do well enough on it I could get my grade up to a C, a very low C but a C nonetheless. I probably won't even study, and just look over the shit before the last minute. I should do fine.

Yesterday my Latin teacher, as always, gave this big sermon on how no one even seems to care about Latin, and how we should be "studying Latin for thirty minutes" and how we should be "studying an hour" for tests. She always talks in this really annoyed stuck-up way. It's sort of bitchy now that I think about it. I mean, it's fine if she says this to us. . .but it's the same thing each and every single day. Maybe she would get the point that what she's teaching us is a waste of time? But then again I guess it doesn't get through thick-headed people like that. The density of some peoples' heads. I mean, one time in that class we were taking a quiz, which is what we do every single day it seems. I was slanted over in my chair so I could see her as she spoke. She told me to "move over and sit right in my chair." And I just sat there and sort of wondered, "Why is she even saying this? She sounds just like my dad, bitching about how you sit in a chair." She told me that the girl who sits in back of my, Lacey, could copy off my paper. Let's also not even mention the fact that that's how I usually, every day, sit in my chair when she's doing her quiz?

The only thing that matters to me anymore is looking at the women I see each day: coveting them. Every time I think of the word covet I shall eternally remember Hannibal Lecter.

I see your beauty as you walk me by
What I would give to have you
I see how pretty you are and I want it

Dear I want to ruin you like it's ruined me
Dear I want to control you like it's controlled me
Dear I want to kiss you like it's kissed me
Dear I just want you to make it all go away
I want you to do to me what I cannot do
I need your beauty so I can wreck it forever
like it's wrecked me

Don't you see dear?
You're only young once and you're only feeling what's real once
And they're both at the same time
And I just want you for mine
I have given up on everything else but what you can do for me
Don't you see dear?
Can you not hear?
Beauty fades and I want to see you fade because of me

I'm sick of here, I'm sick of this
I do not belong here we all know
I'm sick of this show.
I want to throw it all away,
I want to give it all to you
Being this human is being too weak
Here I am letting it be me
Can't you hear me, how I speak?

I would give you the world. . .my world
Not this world
I would give you the world. . .my world
Not this world
Not
This
World

So come here dear
Let's do what we're meant to do
Let's do our purpose
For this body I am in
This flesh, this useless skin
You know where to begin

You know where to begin
You know what to make
You know what I will give
What you will take.

---

In other news, Mitch has a job interview after school. It is at McDonald's. Mitch doesn't, told himself he wouldn't, work fast food, but he's desparate, and sick of looking for a job in this world they call reality. Mitch will try his best (worst) at this interview, and just maybe he'll get a job. He doesn't want this job, but Mitch needs a job for the summer, says his father, and says reality.

Guess it's time to waste away.
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