I am soooooooooo angry at EVERYTHING right now. Wo-ho-ho, watch out.
First off: 4 essays, 2-3 pages each. All on Macbeth! As if I were too stupid to understand it in the first place! We've gone over that play numerous times and I'm ready to throttle someone... must... kill... Second off: I feel terrible. Apparently, despite the fact I received a flu vaccination before America ran out and had to borrow from France, I can still get the flu. My doctor told me I'll be having complications for 2 weeks. Third off: I'm hungry and have barely eaten a thing today save Brie on thin crackers (and soft cheese doesn't settle on a sick stomach), and I still feel fat. Fifth off: There's still another week of school until break and I'm ready to physically and/or mentally harm someone. Fourth off: I have a blister on my left big toe because I wore heels. Sixth off: I have tomorrow (and Friday morning) to make up 2 tests and 2 quizzes and makeup work (pile that on the essays). Seventh off: Return of the King comes out next week? Next week? Why so very far away? Eighth off: I just had fudge with Velveeta chesse.
So for one of the first times in a loooong time, an earthquake hit my area. Strangely enough, one of my two dogs, Peppermint, has been acting quite oddly. She's been biting and thrashing and barking...more than usual, anyway. Apparently there's a less-than-new theory that the amount of road-kill increases dramatically before a strange weather occurance. Well, I was pretty much ready to throw my dog into a busy road, so I'd have to agree. And I was completely kidding, there. I would never throw my dog into a busy road. That's where I found her in the first place. Someone had beaten her and thrown her out a car window, and she wandered my neighborhood for weeks without food. Then she followed my brother home on Christmas about 2 years ago, and we've had her ever since! She's got two different eyes, and I think she swings both ways (if you know what I mean), but she's a sweetheart, and I love her! I'm such a softy for my pet dogs.
Well, I'm still angry. Yesterday I got mad because I realised that there is not a single original idea in this world. No one is new, nothing is fresh, everything is the same. It angers me almost as much as the seemingly "perfect life" that is imperfect in it's failure to recognise the inescapable facts of misery in real life. I was just walking around my kitchen yesterday, talking to my other dog, Jazzi J, about it. About how much I want to get out of highschool so I can have ideas and thoughts of my own instead of being forced to regurgitate facts and essays (four of them, on Macbeth) to please other people. Teachers only listen to what they want to hear. They don't want new or novel ideas, neither do other teenagers. That bothers me to no end! There are the ones that think they're being different by living this romanticized punk or goth lifestyle, and they don't understand that there's just nothing different or surprising about that. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a poser. There are people that dress like preps, and there are punks, and there are goths, but they're all the same. Every last one is just the same as the next, and I'm trapped in it until I have an idea or a look or a feeling or a hair on my head that stands out, that's different than everybody else. And, yes, that just gets to me. I don't understand why, but it just eats away at my mind.
It's that feeling you get when you like some underground band that you don't think anyone else knows but you, until you find their sell-outishness shirts all over Hot Topic. Or when you come up with a cool idea for a story or movie, and then you find one just like it. The latter has never happened to me, but I'm sure it has happened to someone, someplace, sometime. It would have been so neat to have been back in the Renaissance and meet the humanists like Erasmus or something, someone bringing a fresh idea to the modern world. But there's almost no one like that. I'm not like that, not yet. But I know I could be if I were given the chance. I think that's what bothers me the most. Maybe I could be the next Erasmus (though I'm a teenage girl), someone to bring something new to art through film or literature. Maybe I'll be someone to set a standard for other entreprenuers of the arts to follow. I wish I were like that, I wish I could have the vision of some of my idols, like Tim Burton or Andy Warhol, or someone fresh in acting like Johnny Depp (haha, I'm not kidding, so stop laughing), but if I had their vision, I would be no different. Those are the ones that are different, that aren't copying other's work, taking their own ends and spoils acheived through laziness and unoriginality. At least not in my opinion.
And no, I don't know where I was going with that.
Ooooh *groan*, three more essays...
Anyways, think happy thoughts! I don't get to go to NY like I was promised for Christmas! I skipped out on my group trip to Florida with friends to go to NY with family, and now I don't get to go to either! Far from happy, but I was really looking forward to it. My dad just got a raise, and before he informed any of the rest of my family, he spent it all. Actually, he never told anyone in my family, but he spent it anyways. That money was for Christmas, or it would have been had my mother known about it, it would've gotten me a skating trip on Rockefellar Plaza. Apparently whatever my dad spent it on (himself or a friend, I take it) is more important than his wife and two children visiting him in NY for Christmas. I've been anticipating this for a very long time, and ever since I was 7 and started skating lessons, I've dreamed of Rockefellar Plaza. The Christmas Tree, the ice-rink, the less-than-pleasing New York native Transvestites on the street-corners, you have no idea how much I love that place! I wanted to go see the Metropolitian's Angels and shop at Sacs, but my dad doesn't seem to think that's too important, I guess.
I know I'm moving there in a year and a half, but I also know my mum's going to Seattle with my brother once I get out. My family will be split by the entirety of the country! And I don't get along with my dad whatsoever, mainly because he pulls bloody stunts like this just to avoid us. He's a nice guy, I just realise he's too immature for children. I don't think he was ready for that responsibility, and though he's 41, I still don't think he is. I love him because he's my dad, but it tears me up inside having to deal with the stuff he's dished onto my family's plate in the last 10 years. I don't understand why he treats us like that.
I hafta go, time for dinner. Then I get to write three more essays.