|
|
2002-08-04 ~ 1:04 a.m.
Listening to: Listening to: SHHHHH. This is not really entry number 4 for August 3rd, 2002. No no. This is entry number 1 for August 4th, 2002. Yeah. I know I said that I wouldn't write any more entries for "today," but I couldn't sleep because I was thinking too much, so I came downstairs. Melissa? Thinking? Surely you jest! You may say. But really. I was. I was thinking and worrying, but worrying mostly. I realized ONCE AGAIN that the school year is starting up again soon, and while I'm determined to make the most of it and not have a repeat of last year, I still have a lot of inhibitions. For instance, my teachers. Last year I had a total of 2 teachers whom I liked, and 1 teacher who actually liked me. That's never happened to be before--I've always liked and gotten along with my teachers, and they've always liked and gotten along with me (except for a choice few whom I will remember forever). I was thinking about Mr. Swaney again, my 8th grade English teacher. I am considering adding him to the Los Sabios section of my cast page. Because he really is a teacher who I look up to. NO I don't have a teacher-crush, I've considered that possibility, and I decided that it's not a teacher-crush, it's simple admiration. Seriously. Shut up! And I was thinking about how much I didn't like my math teacher this year. She played favorites--which I don't mind at all--but she played favorites the wrong way. Mr. Swaney played favorites with the people who responded in class and gave relevant feedback--like me. Haha, you know what I mean. He didn't just favor me, but he favored this kid, Justin, because even though Justin was kinda distracted and obnoxious, Mr. Swaney saw that he really was an insightful guy sometimes. And plus, he was nice to everyone anyway. But my math teacher, she favored this one girl for no legitimate reason whatsoever. The girl was awful at math, and every time my teacher tried to explain something, she would ask fifty billion questions. But the teacher would answer them all really nicely. But when anyone else asked a billion questions like that, she'd be like "Guys! Settle down. Just let me finish!" I was like...I don't want to be in your class anymore. Bye. And hmm what else was i worrying about? Oh, placement in Band. Now remember my audition entries? I'll link to them later, I don't feel like finding them. Well, if you don't remember, I'll tell you that I did awful and boo hoo poor me. It turns out that I got a grade for it, which turned out to be like a 60% or something! I was shocked! I didn't even think I had done that bad. But I apparently did, which puts me in 14th chair out of 14 flutes. Thaaat'll be great. I'll be sitting next to the Chinese girl who never talks. And she'd even have done better than me. RRRRR. And then I was thinking about how great it was to be in 8th grade. I was getting straight A's, I was 2nd chair in the best band in the school, all my teachers loved me, and I had an average of 3 embarrassing moments for the entire school year. Cut to freshman year. Straight B's, playing in the figurative bottom-feeder-band of the high school band food chain, has 1 teacher who shows even the tiniest signs of maybe remembering my name, and having an average of 3 embarrassing moments per HOUR. A big change for Melissa. And not for the better. And I was all like, "Well sophomore year's gonna be WAY! better! Tee hee!" But who's to say that's for sure? I heard that sophomore year is HELL. I could be on a one-way road to Losertown, population one. My only hope is that Lindsay might be in some of my classes. But no wait, that won't help, because then I'll just be comparing myself to her in every way, which is what I do anyway, not just to her, but to everyone, and AHHHH. I shouldn't be thinking so much. Whoever gave women the right to think and read and learn and vote obviously had not seen a female in the state that I am in. Obviously unstable. Kinda disgruntled. Hands shaking. Eyes tearing. HUMONGOUS HEADACHE. See? I'm so worried, I can't even form proper sentences! I think I might have a chemical imbalance. Is that weird??? I don't think I should rate this on the Overreaction Scale right now, because this isn't really a true overreaction, it's things that I normally worry about late at night. And God are they ever selfish things! I mean, I could be worrying about starving children in Cambodia and three-toed sloths in the the rainforests who are losing their homes as I type this--but I don't. I worry that I won't ever make it into the Wind Ensemble, that I won't have a way to get home from Newspaper meetings, that I might not ever get into college or see Hanson live or marry a movie star and be interviewed on The View. I know that these past few entries have all been "Ooooh Melissa's on a 'let's be insightful!' spree, just let her get it out of her system" entries. I think it might be due to the fact that I still have nothing productive to do right now. And it also might be because as a pre-teen I developed several character flaws that continue to cause me to be insecure and doubtful and untrusting. But I'll get over it, right?
Falling Upward ~ Falling Downward
Miss Anything? i'm portable - 2005-02-16 busy making big mistakes - 2004-06-12 i'm sorry I know that's a strange way to tell you - 2004-03-21 hello darkness - 2004-03-17 another night slips away - 2004-03-15
All words � MM 2001-03 |
>Who<
>Fun<
>Design<
|
|
|
