Homecoming, we won 21 to 14 (if I remember correctly). GO HAWKS!
And there's my school spirit for the year. My float, the loverly (but barely existent) French Club Float, won nothing, but I got one of the mascots to dance for me, so it all worked out fine. I told my mom and brother not to go, because I didn't think adults or families could, and now I'm really angry because I was really, really wrong. There were more adults than kids, but there are like 2,500 kids in the school, so I always think, "Two parents per kid, plus the odd dozen here or there as family... there's not enough room!" And in the ninth grade, when I went, there were no parents there, just teachers and stuff. I swear to heaven.
But my mom is really sick. Hey, if you guys could, could you send her e-cards? Her email address is email@example.com, you can go to Hallmark's website, and find "Send Free E-Cards", and send them to her! Her wrist has carpal tunnel (which, I know I sound stupid, but I really don't know yet quite what that means other than severe strain, any knowledge of the truth would be greatly appreciated). Her shoulder may have a calcium deposit build-up, and she can't move her arm, so she may have to have surgery. And she's so brave about it, you know? She demanded to be kept off medications to take care of my little brother.
Which, by the way, I was offered a random soda by some kid I've never seen before at the game, and this girl was like, "Only I drank off of it, I swear. I swear, like, I don't, like, have diabetes or anything." So I was (like) kind of stiff (like) and replied, "My younger brother has diabetes." She tried to (like) cover herself for that, but it really did bother me. That and the fact that I didn't even know that my mom was sick until she picked me up early out of chemistry class made me want to cry the whole game, but I won't get into it.
I don't like following sports. Oh, and, Sarah, a homecoming is the first football game held at the home school, or the school the team is from. It's a big to-do with a dance and everything, and usually a bit of fun. I'm not into the fun part, though! See, I don't like following sports, as I just realised tonight, because it's very, very sad. I just barely grasp the idea that highschool is the end of the line for a lot of teens. I mean, after this comes mediocre jobs, family, and a white-picket fence. Sometimes that is what people prefer, granted, but it's no life. Not after the "fun" of highschool. I think that those of us who find highschool to be the best years of our lives, that marry our highschool sweethearts, that go on to college but still visit the highschool from time to time to see the games, I think it's sad. I've got spirit for my school, because my school has given me a good name. There's no better school in the state than mine, to be honest. But there's something beyond this, beyond following football games and guzzling beers (which I'd never do anyway, it's disgusting) at the frat parties (yes, our school is so affluent, we have fraternities and sororities, ridiculous, and the people that I see following baseball, football, hockey on a real, national level, are those kids from highschool, physically grown, but mentally hindered by their lack of ability to recongise defeat. That's probably for the better, because some people are contented to a quiet, family life. But I always think that there are people like me that feel that there's something beyond highschool, and football, even beyond college and an adult life... I don't know what it is yet, but I know I'll get there. And so highschool football games make me really sad, because I know it'll be the people I've associated with all these passing years that are the ones that won't ever see the depressing light.
Well, I'm sure I sound like a weirdo. I'm feeling a *wee* bit sad about my mum, is all. And my dad's coming home, and I wish it could just be my mum, brother, and I. Because my dad tends to yell at all of us far too often, and my feelings get hurt. But it hurts my feelings even more when he yells at mom, or at Ben, because they've had a bad time of it, and I can take it better than they. He must just not understand how much it hurts, he must just not understand.
My application for Columbia is in. Please, pray that they accept me. I don't know what else to do if I'm not taken by them. I'd cry for weeks, I'm not lying. But, then again, I'm in a bad mood. My grades and SAT scores are... good enough. They're at the high-end of minimum (paradox much?), but I think that I still may be kept *out*. And I really feel like it's my school. I really, really do. Let's just hope the readers are as greedy as I've heard, so I can get in sans probleme (that's a wonderful thing to say, isn't it? Well, stories that I've heard...). I am really worried about it. I wrote my essay, and I'll post it per request.
I missed: Joan of Arcadia. The Apprentice. Will and Grace. Scrubs. If you saw any of those shows in the past week, please, fill me in. I heard the psychologist left Scrubs, and they said, "Just like your face!" about everything. Hence, le titre. Funny story is, I do that to my brother all the time. "Hey, Deedee, have you seen the glue stick?" Just like your face, Ben, just like your face. He knows I'm just joshin' him.
Anyway, I've gotta go. Before I do, shop at thrift stores. I've never done it before, but I got a Calvin Klein sweater for five bucks, a Banana Republic shirt for three, and a Limited linen shirt for three. And a pretty silver bracelet with all these different country flags on the charms for five dollars. It looks wonderfully antiqued. And a very loverly silver prom-ish dress for $38 for the French float. Thank you, Mommy, for taking me shopping! I love my mum, and she loves me.
Well, I gotta go. Go, Hawks, go! Fight, Hawks, fight! Win, Hawks, win!