Today was fine. My best friend was sick, so of course carpool was awkward and Social Studies was boring. There's this weird thing in the back of my mind that always happens where I'm sort of annoyed when my friends get sick, even though it's irrational and selfish. I wonder if it's just me or if others sometimes feel this way too?
My nails are cherry red. I painted them for the first time in months because I was reading Lolita and the narrator mentions Lo's cherry red toe nail polish. So I painted my nails. I avoid painting my nails, generally, because it takes such a very long time to dry and they chip so easily. Also I'm bad at it and almost always manage to fuck up. Happily, I only fucked up a little and was able to wait for them to dry. It's not that I'm an impatient person, it's just annoying to not be able to do ANYTHING during those twenty minutes. And I often overestimate how dry the polish is, and then I do something and I smear the polish and get it on whatever I was touching.
The positive part of painting my nails, though, is how sexy my hands feel afterwards. I also don't bite them when they're painted. They're only chipped a little around the edges today, which I think lends a a sort of devil-may-care quality. Although I could very well just look sloppy.
Lolita was actually not as sexually graphic as I imagined it would be, despite its claim to fame as a 'pornographic' novel. It did not really describe sex at all, although it did go into great detail on the appearance of female characters, particularly Lolita. I guess I can see how an adult male reading this might be made uncomfortable and kind of feel like a pedo. I think I am at the optimal demographic for not feeling like a perv by reading this novel, if that makes any sense. In a way, I am Lolita.
Or so I would like you to believe. Or so I would like to believe.
My second best friend's boyfriend got staples in his head this weekend because they were on a field trip with the band to Carowinds and then it started to hail and the bus got dents in it and a cymbal fell on my second best friend's boyfriend's head. Another friend, my second best friend's best friend, texted my best friend (my desire to not use names on this blog is becoming ever more complicated) with the somewhat dramatic, '[my second best friend's boyfriend] split his head open'
which led us to believe that he had cracked his skull and was at this moment comatose or bleeding out on the floor of a filthy activity bus. The staples, while pretty painful looking, are not life threatening.
My social studies teacher, who is my favorite teacher, and decidedly the best teacher at my shitty school, always pronounces the days of the week with a 'dee' at the end, instead of 'day'. She pronounces day correctly, but days of the week are always mondee toosdee wensdee thursdee fridee. It's quite odd.
I'm going to high school next year. I was, originally, not going to reveal my age on this blog but I came to the conclusion that it is very difficult to discuss my self without discussing my age, or at least my year of schooling.
I'm going to high school next year, and I am 80 percent excited and 20 percent nervous/apprehensive. I think high school will be better than middle school, and if it isn't I'm enrolling in the school of Science and Math or dying my hair, changing my name to Stella or Lola or Andromeda, for short, Andy, and moving to Los Angeles and becoming a porn star. Not really, but maybe. Not the porn part, though. Maybe an actress... or a musician. I've always wanted to be in a band even though I suck ass at playing musical instruments.
I wonder what color I would dye my hair if I were to do so. I think probably hot pink, or bright red. A friend of mine dyes her hair black and the ends a different color every three weeks. It had been green (TURQUOISE! she'd insist) and this week it's dark red. I envy her, for more reasons than her hair.
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