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9/14/08
Location: Detention.
Music: Nothing, I'm in stupid detention.


Dear Journal,

Today was not a good day, and I don't mean in the usual 'my day sucked because so-and-so said such-and-such,' nor do I mean the usual 'my day sucked because so-and-so broke up with so-and-so.' Such issues don't concern me anymore, and they haven't for a long time.

No, my day was bad for a completely different reason. My day was bad because I didn't do my homework.

What's so unusual about that you ask, journal? How is that any different than the rest of the high school population and their silly little concerns?

It's unusual because I was up all night. No, not making out with my boyfriend, or going to a house party, and I certainly wasn't trying to run away. I was up all night defending the very planet I live on.

I was up all night outside the atmosphere.

You'd think they'd let me slide on doing my homework because of this, wouldn't you?

Well, they wouldn't.

So get this: My English teacher walks up to me today, as I'm slowly falling asleep at my desk (which is way too uncomfortable to sleep on, by the way), and she barks my name out like some too-serious drill sargent.

"Minnie!" She shouts, like I'm a million miles away, and not just sitting only inches away from her.

So I wake up, all tired from, you know, saving her butt and all, and I say: "Yes?" Because I'm nice, you know? I respect my elders.

And she goes: "Minnie, you were falling asleep again in my classroom."

Immediately, I want to say 'duh,' but I don't because that wouldn't be respectful. So instead I say: "I'm sorry Mrs. Giavani, I was up late last night."

Her over-plucked eyebrow raises, and she goes: "Doing your homework, I hope."

And what can I possibly say to that, journal? 'No, sorry, there was a giant invasion about to come down to kill you all. That took a proceding over my stupid adverb homework.'

No, that wouldn't fly.

Detention, Journal, that's what Mrs. Giavani gave me. Detention. As if my life isn't hard enough.



9/15/08
Location: Outside lunch tables.
Music: Glosoli by Sigur Ros.

Dear Journal,

Today has been a bit better, I actually got my homework done before I fell asleep, which was nice, because once I'm asleep, I'm, well, not.

Anyway, today was better homework-wise, although I doubt I'll ever have a decent day in high school. Period. Take this morning, for example. I'm in a good mood, right? I come to school today and Risa meets me outside of homeroom, gushing over some stupid Senior boy that I should obviously find attractive, but how the hell would I know who he is, you know? I don't pay attention to anyone that I don't have to. I pay attention to Risa because she doesn't leave me alone.

Not that I'm purposely anti-social, Journal, but I have more worries than other people, so I have an excuse. I don't know why it doesn't bother Risa like it does everyone else, but she claims me to be her best friend. And who am I to deny myself the one person who doesn't mind hanging out with me?

So anyway, she's gushing to me about this boy, and I'm thinking: 'Who the hell is this kid?' And he walks up.

Have I mentioned, Journal, that I've never been in love? I mean, I've had crushes on celebrities, but even since, well, that time, I haven't had much time to look.

This time, however, I was looking.

Jared is beautiful, Journal. Beautiful and strong and handsome, and I find myself wanting to save the world again, I find that I don't mind driving myself insane trying to figure out what I am that I can do the things I do. I find that I do it for Jared.

Sounds overly-sappy, doesn't it?

Of course, he was already talking with Risa, and don't get me wrong, he talked to me too, as I bumbled around like an idiot. I swear, I have to skills when it comes to talking to attractive people.

And Journal, he laughed at me, and I was horribly embarrassed, but I didn't even care at the time, because jeez, was his laugh wonderful.

He smelled good, too.

Here's the problem: It's not like I can, you know, tell him what I am. What I do. I can't tell anyone. I can't tell Risa. I can't tell mom. I shouldn't even be telling you. What if someone found you?

...The idea makes me sick. I think I might hurl...

...
...
...

I'm okay.

So about last night. I finally drift off to sleep, and then it happened again. I woke up and I wasn't at home. I was far from my bed, far from my room, my house, my city, my nation, my world... I was aboard a ship, and people were screaming in my face.

It's a good thing I've gotten in the habit of sleeping in my jeans and a bra... I can still remember how it first happened, three years ago...

I was-

Oh, s**t! Wait, wait, wait, he's coming!

9/15/08
Location: Outside lunch tables.
Music: Glosoli by Sigur Ros.

Dear Journal,

Today has been a bit better, I actually got my homework done before I fell asleep, which was nice, because once I'm asleep, I'm, well, not.

Anyway, today was better homework-wise, although I doubt I'll ever have a decent day in high school. Period. Take this morning, for example. I'm in a good mood, right? I come to school today and Risa meets me outside of homeroom, gushing over some stupid Senior boy that I should obviously find attractive, but how the hell would I know who he is, you know? I don't pay attention to anyone that I don't have to. I pay attention to Risa because she doesn't leave me alone.

Not that I'm purposely anti-social, Journal, but I have more worries than other people, so I have an excuse. I don't know why it doesn't bother Risa like it does everyone else, but she claims me to be her best friend. And who am I to deny myself the one person who doesn't mind hanging out with me?

So anyway, she's gushing to me about this boy, and I'm thinking: 'Who the hell is this kid?' And he walks up.

Have I mentioned, Journal, that I've never been in love? I mean, I've had crushes on celebrities, but even since, well, that time, I haven't had much time to look.

This time, however, I was looking.

Jared is beautiful, Journal. Beautiful and strong and handsome, and I find myself wanting to save the world again, I find that I don't mind driving myself insane trying to figure out what I am that I can do the things I do. I find that I do it for Jared.

Sounds overly-sappy, doesn't it?

Of course, he was already talking with Risa, and don't get me wrong, he talked to me too, as I bumbled around like an idiot. I swear, I have to skills when it comes to talking to attractive people.

And Journal, he laughed at me, and I was horribly embarrassed, but I didn't even care at the time, because jeez, was his laugh wonderful.

He smelled good, too.

Here's the problem: It's not like I can, you know, tell him what I am. What I do. I can't tell anyone. I can't tell Risa. I can't tell mom. I shouldn't even be telling you. What if someone found you?

...The idea makes me sick. I think I might hurl...

...
...
...

I'm okay.

So about last night. I finally drift off to sleep, and then it happened again. I woke up and I wasn't at home. I was far from my bed, far from my room, my house, my city, my nation, my world... I was aboard a ship, and people were screaming in my face.

It's a good thing I've gotten in the habit of sleeping in my jeans and a bra... I can still remember how it first happened, three years ago...

I was-

Oh, s**t! Wait, wait, wait, he's coming!