Disgust-New and Improved!
16 Aug 2004 05:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenxyzcannonballAnother year of school has begun. Whoopee. More torture. The teachers are (mostly) nice , it's the administration that "irks my tater" as one of my friends puts it. Today we wasted over 30 minutes in what one teacher described as a "Thou-shalt-not" assembly. As in: "Thou shalt not wear midriff baring shirts, thou shalt not wear spaghetti straps, thou shalt not leave campus early unless thou hast first wasted a lot of time in the morning trying to get through the (dubiously named) student services, an (my least favorite) Thou shalt not show affection for thine fellow human beings. And by the way, you are not alone, we are here to help you." Pardon me whilst I laugh my ample ass off at that last sentence. The administration is lying. They are not here to help us, they are here to keep us in our federally subsidized cells and herd us from cell to cell, yelling occasionally just to keep things fresh, you know. I told Scott I wanted to get an orange jumpsuit and put my student number on it. I do so thoroughly despise the administration, most especially the principal.
School obviously is major suckitude, not excepting the band which I am not marching in this year. I miss it some, but I really don't want to have to deal with Mr. "Unpronounceable Conglomeration of Letters who is a pain in the arse" any more than I absolutely have to. I wish I could sing instead, or even draw. But no, I promised my parents I'd take one more year of band. Boy am I regretting that. My parents are reaching new lows, even for them. Even the youth minister at church thought some of their attitudes were abnormal. Hey, I have to agree- who else plans their kid's birth around the University of Florida football schedule and then has the nerve to tell them that? He suggested I could write them a letter telling them how I feel. It's a good idea that would work fine with normal-scope parents, but seriously, I doubt that IF I took the time to write a letter and IF they got it, I doubt they would ever take the time to read it and even if they did that there would be any sort of favorable result. What would probably happen is that one would read it, get hyperoffended, tell the other one to read it, and they get offended, and then both of them gang up on me and scream and yell and cuss at me and follow me when I try to get away from the barrage for a minute. Yes, I am a sensitive person who doesn't take criticism well. Blame my parents who concentrated on Doogie for 20 frickin years. They still help out "poor wittle samwy" beacuse he's a chronic driftless moocher. He gets confused about where he's going in life for a couple of months, and they fix him up with happy pills and send him lots of nice cash. I go around for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS in a dark cloud (which only started to dissipate within the last few months) and I'm told to "Shut up, I don't want to hear about how unhappy you are, you have a roof over your head and food to eat, that's more than my schoolkids have, I don't want to hear you say stupid things like you want to kill yourself and waste my time with that bullshit, blah blah ad infinitum." Yeah, I just love the equality in this house. It makes me all warm and fuzzy... like the feeling you get before you vomit violently from food poisoning. I never like coming to this house in the afternoons. You walk in and the very walls are institutional and oppressive. Every thing is the color of regurgitated milk and oatmeal-beige. Beige walls, carpet, ceiling, baseboards, tile, everything except the wood, which would take too much time to paint. If the house itself isn't bad enough, remember I also have to deal with my parents. And they wonder why I spend so much time either away physically or on the internet.
School obviously is major suckitude, not excepting the band which I am not marching in this year. I miss it some, but I really don't want to have to deal with Mr. "Unpronounceable Conglomeration of Letters who is a pain in the arse" any more than I absolutely have to. I wish I could sing instead, or even draw. But no, I promised my parents I'd take one more year of band. Boy am I regretting that. My parents are reaching new lows, even for them. Even the youth minister at church thought some of their attitudes were abnormal. Hey, I have to agree- who else plans their kid's birth around the University of Florida football schedule and then has the nerve to tell them that? He suggested I could write them a letter telling them how I feel. It's a good idea that would work fine with normal-scope parents, but seriously, I doubt that IF I took the time to write a letter and IF they got it, I doubt they would ever take the time to read it and even if they did that there would be any sort of favorable result. What would probably happen is that one would read it, get hyperoffended, tell the other one to read it, and they get offended, and then both of them gang up on me and scream and yell and cuss at me and follow me when I try to get away from the barrage for a minute. Yes, I am a sensitive person who doesn't take criticism well. Blame my parents who concentrated on Doogie for 20 frickin years. They still help out "poor wittle samwy" beacuse he's a chronic driftless moocher. He gets confused about where he's going in life for a couple of months, and they fix him up with happy pills and send him lots of nice cash. I go around for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS in a dark cloud (which only started to dissipate within the last few months) and I'm told to "Shut up, I don't want to hear about how unhappy you are, you have a roof over your head and food to eat, that's more than my schoolkids have, I don't want to hear you say stupid things like you want to kill yourself and waste my time with that bullshit, blah blah ad infinitum." Yeah, I just love the equality in this house. It makes me all warm and fuzzy... like the feeling you get before you vomit violently from food poisoning. I never like coming to this house in the afternoons. You walk in and the very walls are institutional and oppressive. Every thing is the color of regurgitated milk and oatmeal-beige. Beige walls, carpet, ceiling, baseboards, tile, everything except the wood, which would take too much time to paint. If the house itself isn't bad enough, remember I also have to deal with my parents. And they wonder why I spend so much time either away physically or on the internet.
