From a mess to the masses

From a mess to the masses

I am again blogging on my iPod while sitting in bed at nearly 11 pm at night, which first of all signifies that I am not sleeping, and also that I am feeling a bit stressed out. I have two crappy common app essays and two crappy UC app essays that all need to be turned into brilliance that will outshine the blinding C on last year's report card. And I have a math quiz tomorrow that will hopefully bring my 88 up to at least an 89, which should be an A-, and after spending 45 minutes of my evening (time that I could have spent reading the Virginia Woolf novel that is the subject of an in-class essay I have to write next week) teaching Michael how to do the word problems that we've spent a week and a half in class working on and going over, and over, and over.

My patience is stretching thin lately - my patience with school and my friends and this stupid tiny keyboard and my sister and this really stupid tiny keyboard - and I'm suddenly addicted to "Veronica Mars". I actually told my mom last night that I don't want to walk in graduation, and as soon as I said it I realized how true it is. I just want to be done. I want to be done and I want to leave and go away and forget everyone who broke my heart over and over. But she said I have to walk for my grandparents. I hope they're proud when they see me in my ridiculous red robe tripping through a foreign football field with 850 of my closest friends. That's all it is, really, high school in general - just for show.

Although I can't help but hope that one day when I'm old and overworked and bitter (moreso than I am now, I mean), I won't regret not doing anything about feeling so trapped, about feeling like I'm wasting my time but not doing anything about it. At least there are positive post-its. Knowing there are girls out there who are considerate enough to make them makes me feel a little less alone, a little less ashamed of my generation. And isn't that the point?