The following attempts to expression the REAL reason I graduated high school so very near to the bottom of my class. It would take me six long years of meaningless, dead-end jobs to realize that: 1. my childhood inclinations of being a writer, were pretty dead on and 2. that an education truly is the most important necessity in a young person's life. At 25, I began university and finished my first semester on the Dean's list.
7:25 The alarm screeches for the third time and I'm already late. (Sadly, this habit has remained somewhat unaffected over the years)
7:29 Hit the snooze again and ignore my friend's honking horn in the drive.
7:45 Mad dash to the closet, then a quick run to the bathroom for the necessaries and then bat my eyes at my poor stepfather promising he won't have to drive me anymore.
Me: "Of course, if I had my own car..."
Him: "You'd still be late. Get in the truck."
7:50 Ignore the annoying glare given to me by the school secretary who inevitably asks, under her breath 'why can't she be more like that brother of hers.' Flip the bird to snarky secretary.
8:50 Escape first hour, which, let's be honest, I couldn't even recall what had been discussed or, for that matter, what class it was. Run to my locker to gossip with my friends (who feel it necessary to lecture me about wasting her gas when I don't bother to tell her I'm running late) about why Mrs. History Teacher is wearing a too-short skirt. Ignore theories about her wanting to relive her misspent youth or how she's far too flirty with our male classmates and head to second period.
9:00 Until 11:25 Stare aimlessly into the corner of rooms or hide in the back of the Biology lab hoping I won't be called on, hoping that my plan of 'hopes and prayers' non-studying will afford me at least grades of the passable nature. Usually, I am denied or, if I'm very lucky, the teachers would forget that I fell asleep during the last half hour of testing.
11:28 Spent the entire lunch period staring at that cute 'you had better not even think about it' boy leaning against the brick wall next to the fire exit. He is tall and has full, hard to resist lips that are tempting and dangerous. Flirt pathetically then jump when alleged friends tell me to 'forget about that one, he's trouble.' Continue to flirt despite necessary and (Lord above, very accurate warnings...so begins two very long years of breaking up. Getting back together, breaking up, getting my heart broke BUT that's a story we shouldn't discuss. EVER).
11:50 It is time for gym and oh, dang, "Coach I Have No Business Wearing Shorts This Tight, I seem to have misplaced my gym uniform." HA! Wiggled out of yet another Death by Dodge ball match. While my friends limp away from the center of the gym floor and pass out on the bleachers, I give them genuinely sympathetic smiles and pull out my notebook to write yet more Pubescent Emo Poems...
Who are we?
I feel your eyes
Yeah, it was generally that level of bad. I'll not torture you further.
12: 40 - 2:00
More aimless staring, occasionally catching glimpses of Oh So Hot Desirable Bad Boy in the halls. More pathetic, obvious flirting.
2: 25 Freedom! Sweet, beloved freedom!! I sweet talk my way into a ride home from my completely put out friend and, after the necessary and oh-so-trendy hang out spot (read: the local Burger King) I am home in a parentless house. Beginning dialing Bad Boy's number. Hang up when he answers 'Sup?'
/ ridiculous high school memories.