Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Blarg.

I am having trouble constructing a topic sentence for this blog entry. I keep starting sentences, and then deleting and rewriting, deleting, repeating. And, as it stands, I really don’t have any idea what I’m going to talk about.
I went to a retirement ceremony for Miss Stephen today. She had cancer, but she seemed to be in pretty good condition. (God, I sound like I’m talking about a used car or something.) She’s moving to Texas to be close to her family. There was a “royal ceremony” where the principal gave her a crown. And a staff thingie. And a robe. And roses. And a diamond necklace. Then we were all invited to join in for a rousing chorus of an Ode to Miss Stephen. I moved my lips a little bit and wished more people were singing so I could too, and people wouldn’t notice my voice sounded like a strangled goose because everybody else’s voices would overlap (was that the right word?) it. A bunch of retired principals and a handful of former colleagues went up onstage and read very touching prepared speeches off 3X5 cards. After all the people aloof the stage finished up with their praise and memories, occasional mild jokes and moments of stifled sobs, we were directed to the refreshments station thingie. The line was a thousand miles long. I skipped out on standing around for an hour amongst pocket-tissue-carrying old ladies and hungry little children and went to go help my mom in her classroom instead. Then I came home and washed windows, consumed salad and cantaloupe for dinner, and came up here to write a blog entry. I’m going to have to leave in about an hour, though. There’s a meeting tonight in Mrs. Kalman’s room to discuss Europe. Gweesht! I don’t know what the heck that was. I’m just trying to convey excitement here, know what I mean?
Okay, let’s talk about scary movies. WHAT’S THE POINT? Movies should be a pleasurable experience. I prefer to look at attractive people singing and dancing and having clever little conversations than grimacing at a half-dead guy with his eyeballs gushing out of their sockets, moaning and getting blood all over the place. Does it really make people feel nice inside to see people with their heads torn off and the neck-bones glinting while somebody else wails and starts shooting people? Is it a fun experience to watch somebody get sliced open with a chainsaw? Movies are supposed to be entertaining. The human race must be very sick if we enjoy those sorts of images. Why watch that when you could be watching Hilary Duff flirt with some other attractive being in front of her locker, or Vanessa Hudgens dancing through the halls of a school and singing a cheerful tune? Pretty images are just so much more enjoyable than ugly ones. It’s just the way logic works.
I can’t think of a smooth transition to the next subject, so I’ll just skip that part and move along with whatever else there is to say.
Oh yeah... school is like, done. There are only ten more days left, and I’m through with two of my finals already. Only Spanish and language arts left, plus a simple project for science. (Wait, I think I already talked about this. Oh well.) Thursday is the last testing day, and the rest of the year (One week) is full of nothing. The nothing-ness has already seeped into social studies class: for the past two days we were permitted to sit and chat, or read, or draw, or whatever. Yesterday I created a masterful piece of artwork. Today I listened to Beethoven and watched Steven screw around with dominoes. Which reminds me, I should bring my iPod tomorrow. Not that it’s really mine: it’s my mom’s hand-me-down, scratcheyd Shuffle, which I loaded up with NINE whole songs. Thirty percent of them are in different languages.
So anyway, I need to go now. Well, not really, but I’m gonna go anyway.

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