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Humorous Comentaries of Various Things and Stuff in My LifeCategory: Life
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
03:02:37 AM (GMT)
Okay so like
I had this grandmother who was really cool and stuff, my mom's mom, and she was a
Spanish teacher at Blair school. And like everyone loved her because she was really
nice and fun, and all the other Spanish teachers were strict and mean. And she would
take the Spanish club on trips to Spanish speaking countries such as Brazil and
Spain. And while in a foreign country, she ingested some bad meat, and eventually
developed mad cow disease and died.
Anyway, a few years later I started going to Blair school. And whenever someone
mentions mad cow disease (surprisingly often) the teachers start talking about my
grandma. And then I usually raise my hand and say, "She was my grandmother." And the
teachers just stand there with their mouths hanging open like,
"WHAT?....what?.....WHAT?!" and I'm like, "Uh.... Yeahhhh.....Obviously?" I mean, I
look just like her. (Or like a young-Gothic-Snow White-version of her..?) Especially
since my hair is short and black like hers was. And it gets really awkward and weird
and it confuses me. 
So yeah. That's that story. 

Also: My English teachers and Art teachers think I am THE SMARTEST MOST TALENTED
EVER, but honestly, I feel no guilt over it, because I believe that I simply was not
born to do math. I'm here to make the arts and write the books, 'k? Get that math
stuff outta here. Especially since every real life situation I've encountered thus
far that required math, I've been able to handle easily and efficiently. Practical
mental math, and basic math concepts I understand. I just don't want to waste my time
doing hundreds of equations that stress me out, frustrate me, and let's be honest,
make me want to smash my face through a window, when I could be painting, writing a
poem, or reading Shakespeare. 

Something else: I love learning. About anything. (Except math. Heh˘) Today I
listened to this farm kid telling me about all the details of how to clean farm
equipment, and I was totally interested and almost fascinated. I just love
knowing things. I love feeling my perspective of the world widening. At my
school, Human Anatomy is the second hardest class there is, and most kids don't take
it unless they want to become doctors, or unless they're applying to a REALLY fancy
school and need a super impressive transcript. But I'm taking it because I freaking
love learning. At the beginning of this year the teacher literally told us, "If you
are not an A student, and if you are not prepared to study harder than you've ever
studied in your life, drop this class." But I took it anyway, I barely ever study for
it except last minute cramming, and I have a pretty solid B. Because when the teacher
says something, I remember it. I ask so many questions in class that my classmates
look pissed off every time I raise my hand, but, who cares? I want to know stuff. 

Another thing: I freaking adore cats. Like, I know most people do these days,
especially with all the memes and stuff popularizing them, but they're just so
perfect. They're soft, they're cute, they smell good, they bump their noses against
you, they do funny stuff, they cuddle with you, they keep mice out of your house, and
purring is cute. It's funny but I think calling someone a kitty is like the highest
compliment you can give them. It's like saying they're cute, loveable, funny, and
completely awesome, all in one simple word. (I used to call Benji "Benjikitten" and
he called me "Lexikitten" because we're kawaii as fuck.)

Additionally: I'm starting to think that my periods are way worse than other girls'.
It's weird because I only get them like every other month, but when I get them my
cramps are so agonizing that I'm completely useless and nothing I've found so far
makes them stop hurting. Advil and stuff, no matter the dosage, do nothing. Let's
just say this: 
"I don't always get my period. But when I do, I die." 

In conclusion: I've found that I can fill any empty or lonely emotions in my life
with really awesome stuff. I was never, ever materialistic until recently. My
family's always been poor, and I've never complained. Sometimes we'd run out of
shampoo and I'd have to wash my hair with dish soap or something. Sometimes we'd run
out of food and my mom would tell us to go over to friends' houses for dinner. A few
times we've had nothing but freezing cold water because propane is expensive. But I
just laughed it off. I mean, it wasn't fun, but I always thought I would rather be
aware of life's struggles than be a blissfully ignorant spoiled rich kid. (In fact I
don't even believe wealth is morally right, even if you worked for it, but that's
another story.) But the thing is, there's this store in downtown Omaha called Drastic
Plastic. They sell records, posters, and clothing that feature old punk bands, and
then they've got a thousand other things like books and collectibles of various
underground culture. And the older get, the more I like older bands, and the more I
love Drastic Plastic, and the more I want to spend my money there. And it's highly
ironic that I'm becoming materialistic over a punk store. Because punk is all about
DIY and avoiding all the addictive consumeristic shopping craze, but I figure at
least it's not a chain store, it's been privately owned since the 70's, and it needs
business to stay open. It's not like I'm shopping at Walmart or anything (that's
downright sinful). But Drastic Plastic is also very, very expensive, and I'm afraid
I'm going to go crazy spending every cent I earn there. I mean, you can get a dress
for fifty dollars, a record for twenty, a wallet for twelve, a sticker for a dollar,
or a pin for ten cents. So it's easy to just spend everything you've got there. I
wish for the thousandth time that I was good with a sewing machine, because I have so
many sick clothing ideas and I'd love to make my own stuff.

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