Diary of a Possum Murderer

I killed a possum.
Sob.
:(

I'm over it.

I got up early this morning for speech practice- well, not really.
Truth is: I forgot about it.
At 7:32 I looked at my watch (just kidding, who wears a watch?) and vaguely remembered something about Monday morning . . .

I proceeded to fly into  my car and drive madly to the school (while maintaining the speed limit of 20 mph, mind you) and slid fluidly out of my car only to see my speech instructor drive by me and slowly get out of his car, yawning and holding his coffee like a lifeline.

It was 7: 37.

Am I the only one who seeks punctuality in this world?

My friend Mike and I are doing a piece from a play called the Glass Menagerie. It's very well written, and I'm pumped.

At first we were supposed to do this awkward love-ish scene, but Mike and I are very awkward individuals so now we are fighting and calling each other crazy in this piece.

Just the way I like it.

But Mike didn't show up because a) he forgot (which I don't blame him at all) and b) he's been sick lately and probably slept in.

In Chemistry we watched a movie from the 80's called the Manhattan Project. It is very cheesy and unrealistic, but hey, we get to learn about bombs - so we all watch it.

The movie also proved an awesome opportunity to read Flannery O'Connor's short story: A Good Man is Hard to Find.

Everyone dies in the end,

Spoiler alert.

I just need a t-shirt that says that.

The rest of my school day:

 Helen of Troy gets sooo much facetime, the lucky duck.

PAUSE>>

First off, I adore my short stories class. My teacher is legit. Really cool and stuff (she hates the words stuff and things, so I try to use them as much as possible). So we had a quick write today, which is where we get a setting, a character, and a plot event we must weave into an original short story.

So what did we get?

Character: Mitten
Setting: Empire State Building
Event: Mitten starts a rap

Sigh.

First off, I can't write raps. I cannot do it. And secondly, mittens don't talk.
If is was a tree, maybe I would enjoy it. But . . . mittens.

So I proceeded to write a short story about a worn, old mitten. Over the years it had belonged to a little girl but she loses it at the Empire State Building and a young man finds it. It reminds him so much of his past he is overwhelmed by  . . .emotions or something and proceeds to write a rap which will eventually become a very successful rap.

I liked the idea, but it was poorly executed on my part. I mentioned my plot to my teacher and she said the mitten had to start the rap or at least to write a few lines of rap. This would be my best shot at a rap:

I'm a mitten
this kid was smitten
from years of wear and tear
no one saw the treasure lying there
no one saw the years of care
kitten.

Be amazed.

Since my parents disapprove of my amazing idea of a tattoo, I have been moved into the action of creating my own tattoos. The sun was made by Annie and the happy face, drawn in dry erase marker, by Kyle.

If I could, I would most definitely make them permanent on my body.

Alas . . .

 At the after school program a little girl asked me to play Mancala with her. I just 'learned' how to play last Friday, so I hesitantly agreed. She seemed quite confident in her ability, but she failed to know a very crucial fact.

I learned how to play when I was 8.

I'm a hustler.

Domination.

 I built this :D

This is further proof of my amazing artistic abilities. I am waiting confirmation that it will be put in museum of Art.

They like to play hard to get.

Since I did not have play practice, I got to go to my best friend's volleyball game. I used to play, but for many reasons I could not this year. I was excited to see the girls and hear the familiar, comforting sound of 12 young ladies trying to smash the ball down each other's throats.

 We made a great fan section, if I do say so myself.

My amazing parking job.
I killed a possum. :(
Not at this moment, and not because of my parking skills or lack-thereof.

Arthur Miller calls. I have a test for Honors tomorrow, and I want to do some more studying. Plus, I just managed to spill a whole thing of tacks behind my desk.

Oh, the joys of life.