Current Location: School. Whatever is said of D-ho, wireless 'net rocks.
Current Mood:
sore
Current Music: Me, You, and My Medication - Boys Like Girls
ZOMGKITTENSMEWMEWMEW! -Collin
Life is terrible. I’m asking for my money back. -megaGAMERZ3133T
Thus is the paradox of my life.
Man, I am so jazzed about Ragnarok (And, specifically, the possibility of getting to see ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
anord there. *Smile*).
There is, however, about seven or so weeks of high school to navigate before I can even think about that happening (Plus I have to decide which college I'm going to as of yesterday, and I'm having trouble settling on one defenitively. *Bleh*.) Which frustrates me slightly.
Y'see, school is tiring. It's not really too terribly hard, it just eats up a terrible amount of my life. You can't do anything else while school is in session. It's ridiculous. Seriously. Along with soccer, my every waking moment is filled with endless tedium of assignments and routine.
This week the zipper pull on my trapper broke. It was just this tiny little piece of bendy rubber that attatched by a metal circle to the zipper, but it had always been there, for my entire high school experience, and I suppose when I needed to get my pencil out for the 30,000th time, it simply couldn't take it anymore and snapped off in my hand.
I sat motionless for a moment, simply staring at the piece of rubber in my hand, then (for some reason) stuck it in my pocket and attempted to get on with my life. It was not the time to worry about such things; Mr. Davis was already beginning to ramble about The Great Depression.* It turns out, however, that it's remarkably difficult to operate the zipper when there's nothing to grip, so when I get home, I ask my mother for a zipper pull.
She just looks at me. "A zipper pull?"
"Yeah." I pantomime the action of pulling a zipper back and forth. "Mine broke."
She looks flustered for a moment, then leans over, digs in a drawer, and after a moment, comes up with a big paperclip and hands it to me.
"Here, use this, honey."
It's my turn to look flustered. "This?"
"You have any better ideas?"
"Well... no. But I was kind of hoping that you would."
She laughs at this. "Sweetie, I think the paperclip will work just fine."
This is the first episode of the decay, I'm convinced. Finishing my senior year is not going to be one of those "Crossing the finish line on a sprint" things. It's going to be one of those "Fall down and happen to roll across the finish line."
I am so screwed.
*Everybody's like "Hoover! Help us! We starve!", but Hoover says giving out handouts breaks the spirit of America, but then when FDR comes along he's all like "Screw it, the American people are responsible, giving them stuff won't make them reliant on government handouts." ...Right.
