The weather's hellish (assuming that it precipitates wildly in hell everyday) so classes are suspended for the 17th and the 18th day of Ju-ju. Hallelujah-hey! Even the planned Saturday classes were terrorized by the storm. The chappie test in Math will be postponed for at least one weekend, along with my anticipated low test score. Double Hallelujah-hey!
The only sucky thing about the stormy situation is that I'd have to wait another seven days to have a humane conversation with my favorite person at the moment. Friday afternoons are the only fixed time in the week I'd get to talk to her without being pressured to say goodbye within ten seconds of us meeting but the weather speared that chance. The only other way I could converse with that kind creature is through instant messaging, which is a pretty impersonal alternative but it's better than nada.
So I'm also through with writing my story regarding the princess who thought she'd been pregnant for five consecutive years, only to find out she gave birth to a shard of diamonds formed by all of her subdued emotions. She's reclusive like Boo Radley, you see. The main difference is she adored the nightsky. So, to cut the scientifically baseless story, the diamond cut through her uterus and her knight buried her in the cave. And that's how diamonds came about, which led to a long history of African slavery or some racial controversy similar to that.
I hope Ms. Miranda would see through all my ambitious metaphors. Maybe self-deprecation could finally give me a grade. I swear I've been shoving it into people's faces all week. They must know that I know who I am. I'm not that oblivious. I'm not oblivious at all. No no no. I know the names I'm branded with and I'm not pretending my ears shut off every time anybody mentions those. So I'll just make a healthy investment and write stuff down, even if I'm a dull writer. I semi-strategically signed up for news solely for that reason.
Well, goodnight to whoever's out there. I hope all your lives are going well. I hope you're doing better than just okay. I mean these wishes. I don't want your lives to suck. You probably deserve to be happy. Support Harry Potter, by the way. I vaguely remember reading the sixth book when I was... ten years old?
I'm not about to recount the years of my youth. I might as well just reread the book while I'm taking a break from David Sedaris. So, as I was saying, goodnight.
The only sucky thing about the stormy situation is that I'd have to wait another seven days to have a humane conversation with my favorite person at the moment. Friday afternoons are the only fixed time in the week I'd get to talk to her without being pressured to say goodbye within ten seconds of us meeting but the weather speared that chance. The only other way I could converse with that kind creature is through instant messaging, which is a pretty impersonal alternative but it's better than nada.
So I'm also through with writing my story regarding the princess who thought she'd been pregnant for five consecutive years, only to find out she gave birth to a shard of diamonds formed by all of her subdued emotions. She's reclusive like Boo Radley, you see. The main difference is she adored the nightsky. So, to cut the scientifically baseless story, the diamond cut through her uterus and her knight buried her in the cave. And that's how diamonds came about, which led to a long history of African slavery or some racial controversy similar to that.
I hope Ms. Miranda would see through all my ambitious metaphors. Maybe self-deprecation could finally give me a grade. I swear I've been shoving it into people's faces all week. They must know that I know who I am. I'm not that oblivious. I'm not oblivious at all. No no no. I know the names I'm branded with and I'm not pretending my ears shut off every time anybody mentions those. So I'll just make a healthy investment and write stuff down, even if I'm a dull writer. I semi-strategically signed up for news solely for that reason.
Well, goodnight to whoever's out there. I hope all your lives are going well. I hope you're doing better than just okay. I mean these wishes. I don't want your lives to suck. You probably deserve to be happy. Support Harry Potter, by the way. I vaguely remember reading the sixth book when I was... ten years old?
I'm not about to recount the years of my youth. I might as well just reread the book while I'm taking a break from David Sedaris. So, as I was saying, goodnight.
