My new thing to say is "I give one/fucks", pronounced as "one over fucks." Allow me to explain. You see, I wanted to say "fucks to the power of zero", but that's incorrect because the zero exponent always equals one. The next best thing is "fucks to the power of negative one", but you would have to make that a reciprocal by putting one below "fucks to the power of negative one", and flip it. You might think the answer is "one over fucks to the power of negative one", but crossing the fraction always makes a negative exponent positive.
I remember last year, in our Chorus class, Hunter and I convinced everyone to do the Time Warp. I taught our classmates to do the dance and Hunter's beautiful, soprano voice belted the lyrics. It was great.
I came to school today in four inch pumps, and I've been walking up and down the stairs and to my classes within four minutes LIKE A PRO. Today's Disney Day, and I'm supposed to be Faline from Bambi, but nobody's gotten it. Most people are in prom dresses, or ears, or are wearing pink and grey stripes with cat faces. I, however, smeared brown eye shadow on my cheeks and forehead and made little white dots, then gave myself a nose. I wanted to Maleficent, but I don't have the time or the resources.
I'm reading Catcher in the Rye for Self-Selected Reading in my CP2 class, and I gotta say, Holden's a dick. He's the ORIGINAL hipster, and he's a douche and a bastard. Like, his brother's dead. Yeah, okay- sympathy, sure. But that doesn't give him the right to carry on the way he does. His sister lost one of her brothers. His brother lost one of his brothers. Their parents lost a child. The fuck is Caulfield so worked up about!? And you know what, I'm getting real tired of your pretentious shit, Holden.
Today at lunch, Tyler started talking about how he got drunk on Jager this Friday night, which led into the fact that I'm hungover from last night. I drank about half a bottle of vodka and four shots of rum, and started dancing around in my underwear to Mr. Brightside with Smirnoff in hand. I'm only guessing the song, really. I vaguely even remember doing that. I also don't remember getting dressed in a black tank top and skinny jeans and sneaking out my bedroom window at two in the morning, either. But I did it. And I walked down the road and just kept going.
My teacher is making us write songs on this music software. My sounds good.
Really good. Better than it should for randomly placed generic melodies.
"Life is like a box of chocolates. The only sure way to know what you're getting is to have enough money to buy them yourself. Otherwise, you'll end up with coconut."
- Mr. Raphaelle, my Chemistry teacher.
The high point for me so far has been hearing "Somebody Told Me" coming out of someone's phone on the morning bus. That's it. Today's just one of those Thursdays where my hair doesn't fall right, I woke up late, and I'm wearing dirty clothes because I didn't have time to be picky. My bangs are in my face today, and they're NEVER in my face. I didn't even have time to search for a hair pin, if that tells you anything. And despite the veil of autumn orange hair, my eyeliner is noticeably shitty- probably because I did it while brushing my teeth.
Even though I never really knew about what happened when it did, my mind starts to put together a picture of all the people that did. George Bush was reading to a class of second graders. There was a young Gerard Way standing on a ferry, on his way to work that morning, watching bodies fall from the sky. His brother, Mikey, who had just turned twenty-one a day before, watching the horror from his TV somewhere in New Jersey. Chantal Claret on her roof, Jimmy Urine on his only five blocks away.
Today, I bleached my jett black hair to a light yellow-y orange, expect for a brown spot in the back. To celebrate, I put on overall shorts, a yellow top, and put my hair in pig tails before going to Ariyah's apartment. And nobody can say I lied about being blonde- my roots are now white.