This is the archive of tumbledry happenings that occurred on March, 2003.
Late at night I accidentally opened Paint Shop Pro and decided to start working. Now I guess I have a perspective into what my mind is doing late at night. I think it’s saying “I should be sleeping”:
I’ve decided something. I really like the music Simple Plan cranks out. I think they rock. I like Blink 182 as well. I need to get in touch with my rock music feelings; those emotionally-good major-powerchords that drive these songs make me wanna get up and party down. I can’t stress this enough; it will be over in 12 school days - I wish I could convey the meaning of that to the general public; but words will not do justice to the relief I will feel. Spring Break means enjoying the music I want to enjoy, lounging around when I want to - but even better - it means looking forward to the final term of my high school career. Maybe fair is fould and foul is fair eh? But without the fog and milky air crap.
The latter part of band today consisted of people playing “The Name Game” with names such as “Mitch”, “Tucker”, and the classic “Horatio.” Who said age equalled maturity? Anyways, its fun to listen to them. I wonder if i’ll get a job with them this summer; this Eagle Valley sounds like a blast. I’m gonna split; tomorrow’s Friday.
Girls can wear jeans
And cut their hair short
Wear shirts and boots
‘Cause it’s OK to be a boy
But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading
‘Cause you think that being a girl is degrading
But secretly you’d love to know what it’s like
Wouldn’t you
What it feels like for a girlSilky smooth
Lips as sweet as candy, baby
Tight blue jeans
Skin that shows in patchesStrong inside but you don’t know it
Good little girls they never show it
When you open up your mouth to speak
Could you be a little weakDo you know what it feels like for a girl
Do you know what it feels like in this world
For a girlHair that twirls on fingertips so gently, baby
Hands that rest on jutting hips repentingHurt that’s not supposed to show
And tears that fall when no one knows
When you’re trying hard to be your best
Could you be a little lessDo you know what it feels like for a girl
Do you know what it feels like in this world
For a girl
Do you know what it feels like for a girl
Do you know what it feels like in this world
What it feels like for a girlStrong inside but you don’t know it
Good little girls they never show it
When you open up your mouth to speak
Could you be a little weakDo you know what it feels like for a girl
Do you know what it feels like in this world
For a girlIn this world
Do you know
Do you know
Do you know what it feels like for a girl
What it feels like in this world
Hello. I’m typing while I am on the phone. Well, I always type when I am on the phone, but in this case I am using two lines at once.
Something is rattling around inside me. It really came to my attention when I listened to the Lionel Richie CD for the first time in a while. Its the feeling that things are looping around or something like that. Maybe not that as much as the feeling that I am feeling the same thing I did in the past, except tinged with the unmistakable subtle nuances that are now. Regardless, class is beginning to be a daily suffering. One goes there, and suddenly fails to see the point. Class points are either ridiculously important or stunningly unimportant. Lunches pop up in random places, classes switch order, I wander halls I never did before. There is quite a restlessness in me, the first of that kind that I have felt in sometime. Something resembling spring has sprung upon the unsuspecting high school, and the reaction has been subtly deep but superficially invisible. As the weather warms up, so does the hope that this will all end and we will be out. The thing none of us really realizes is that we aren’t ready to be out, we aren’t ready to leave. It isn’t time yet, and nevertheless we chomp at the bit, nervous to start something new. I want fourth term to include some things:
Paternal unit is in a bad mood currently. It just takes some minor infraction on the delicate balance of his all important day to send him spiraling into the depths of depression and lack of reason. Its sad how sophmoric habits and adolescent shortcomings stick can stick with a person forever. And its not just the lows that bother those who surround him. Its the highs that are so artificial and short-lived in contrast. Oh, and why would he have to derive satisfaction from his work all the time? His family means far less to him than his own personal accomplishements. What a ridiculous and unfortunate state of affairs. Its remotely like Harry Potter with that sorting hat. I desire to be far more of a man than he is.
