| I feel like a working man |
[Oct. 23rd, 2007|06:32 pm] |
My hit count got restarted. I kind of liked having a high number for my total, even though I've had this thing for three years.
I've got paint on my hands. It makes me feel accomplished, and as I was trying to explain that to Ted, he summed it up pretty nicely: it makes me feel like a working man. I thought the man part was pretty funny, but saying woman instead has a different connotation than what I mean.
I kind of trudged through school today. I really didn't do anything useful, even in physics I just wanted to leave. Becca said I looked like I had manic-depression, then went on to explain the dilemma of being the NHS election vote counter. It was her, Salome, and someone else, and the second time we voted they were on edge wanting me to win; it came down to the very last ballot, which was for Melody. She said they screamed at the little bits of paper, and I do remember hearing a ruckus outside as they were counting.
At JCL we painted posters for World Language Week, hence the paint on my hands. I painted a psychedelic interpretation of North Korea's flag and abandoned it before I finished to work on the Bahamas; Thom saw a random language teacher in the room look at my flag disgustedly, saying "This flag is. wrong." I could imagine the crazy French teacher doing that, her accent and everything. I was so inspired by painting tha I decided we should paint UUY, but when we walked to the senior lot we saw that Melody and Susan attacked UUY with car paint. My favorite is Susan's rendering of the napkin monster on the driver's door.
Hannah's coach told me that he cancelled practice for Thursday, which means I won't be working with them anymore because I don't have time. In an act of desperation, I will try to get to practice after my chem lab tomorrow, but I don't know if I'll finish soon enough.
I'm writing an inquiry, and I can't think of a closing sentence. I hate closing sentences, I'm no good at them. It's hard to let things end. |
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