Oh well. Marching band is starting to matter less and less to me as time goes on. UCF, here I come. Ultimate frisbee. Heck yeah. Maybe Quidditch. I’ll have to check that one out.
Thank god for less homework this weekend. Seven APs is starting to get ridiculous. Absolutely ridic.
I want a job second semester. Or to work at SOCKS. Either way I’m good.
UCF is letting me bring Albus. Fuck yeah.
Winter. It’s good. Next up: Christmas. Then, Mad March.
was a little more to life somewhere else. Know what I mean, man? Most of the time I just want to GTFO of this place. Because it’s hot. And it has no skyscrapers and not enough gay people.
Marching band is starting again, albeit for the last time. I’m going to make it awesome this year or die trying. Not that it ever hasn’t been awesome. But, still.
I wanted that Cherokee so bad… Lame parents. Mostly, though, I just want a vehicular device. Anything they want to give me is A-okay. But that Cherokee was pretty… Ah well.
Go out, break up. Go out, break up. Is there any escape from the cycle? For anyone, ever?
Don’t want to get up at seven. Not in the least.
Goodnight.
I know I’m the most sporadic, cryptic poster in the blogosphere, but I’m trying to stop that now. Regular posts will become, I hope, a feature of this blog.
I used to keep a journal, actually. Wrote in it almost every day. I’ve got about eight or ten spiral-bound notebooks filled with the inanities of eighth and ninth grades. Reading them now makes me want to shoot myself, but whatever. 
Got the weirdest freaking sunburn in the world. You’d think I was a red-and-white cow if you only saw my ankles. Stupid Accutane.
But, simultaneously, wonderful, wonderful Accutane. I love it. Prevents me from scarring, woohoo!
And now I must finish my Algebra II review before my final exam tomorrow. 
Goodnight!
a new chapter, hopefully, in this whole “life” thing.
We shall see, I suppose. We shall see.
were all in my mouth.
Only–I don’t know how they got out here.
Turn me back into the pet I was when we met.
I was happier then, with no mindset.
And if you’d have took to me like a gull takes to the wind,
I’d have jumped from my tree
And I’d have danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would have fared well.
Go look up Frank Abagnale, Jr.
I have managed to go to work, practice my clarinet, and finish my online class all in one day. How does that work? Stupid dayshift, making me be productive and not a procrastinator anymore. I was even sufficiently motivated to make Nunes a CD. Weird.
However, I still have to: pick up and cash/deposit my paycheck, wax my eyebrows, finish two Rahmes assignments, read The Great Gatsby, practice my clarinet up to all-county standards, and somehow catch up on Biology in the next three days. Bio is a bitch. Why did I take that class again? Oh, right, so I can get the torture over with now when I have a teacher who can somewhat explain it rather than in college when I have to figure it out on my own. Damn. Stupid life again.
I think I’m going to request a room makeover for Christmas. Like, all I want is for my stepdad to paint it red.
Haven’t seen you in a while. Been a few months. A lot’s happened since then.
Just read through some old posts…and I just realized that I’ve come back from my last football game as a junior. I have to say, my second-to-last was much more enjoyable, but for reasons not involving football. Which I won’t discuss at this time.
Wow. Junior year. I don’t think they’re exaggerating when they say it’s crazy. Four APs, band, Taco Bell, gas, and still a life outside of that? Insane. But, hey. Gas is, like, $1.83 a gallon for me right now. Which rocks. Cause paying almost $4 really sucked.
Heyheyhey, conservative Northwest Florida, guess what? OBAMA!!!! Ohh yeah. Suck on that. And he isn’t a freaking Muslim. Think outside the FOX–this will be on my truck come next payday.
It’s way too late/early for me to be awake, but I don’t care. So NOT tired.
Yeah, the spotlight shines upon you. And how could anybody deny you?
I hate coughing so freaking much. Damn this sickness. I’m not supposed to be sick. I’ve already been sick once this year. It needs to be another couple of months or so before I get sick again. That’s how I roll, but apparently my immune system has temporarily forgotten this. Ugh. Whatever.
And now my parents are leaving with my iPod and all my stuff in the truck. Fabulous.
But Annie’s party was fun. Messed with a lot of people. Yeah. Fun stuff.
I really need to talk to Patrick. Ack.
Ahhhh I can’t wait for Friday. I’m so excited. I’ve got so much more packing and present-preparing to do though, holy crap. And I wish my parents would get our schedule straight so I can know whether to wash clothes at my mom’s or dad’s house, goshdangit. But, you know. Beggars can’t be choosers. And neither can children of divorced parents.
FOUR DAYS.
School tomorrow. But it’s last week before break. Yay.
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