I guess I'm kind of different since the last time I wrote. I'm a sophomore now. And rather then the super-awesome-beautiful-at-least-better-than-freshman-year I had hoped for, my (approximately) four weeks spent in this grade haven't been the best. That's an understatement. They've been horrible.
The interesting thing is this year I LOVE three of my teachers. That's 50%. The other three aren't even horrible, just annoying. Last year I disliked all of my teachers at least once over the course of the year. But this year, I guess things haven't been going my way. I've become a B student. In honors classes, but that makes it all the more frustrating. Every endeavour in the performing arts (grand total-4) has resulted in nothing, and therefore a horrible depression and low self-esteem complex (I know it's hard for you to believe my insecurity issues could reach new lows, but they can). I don't really get along with anyone anymore. And everyday it seems like life decides to kick me in the ass one more time.
Have I managed to thoroughly depress you yet? My pet peeve is when people use Facebook to elicit pity from others. And now I realize I'm using my blog to do the same thing. Facebook is a narcissistic institution. And so is this blog. I don't write about anything besides myself. My triumphs, my problems, my obsessions. But you can't write what you can't know, and what do I know more about then myself? And I guess I write this blog on the hair-brained notion that someone else out there wants to know about me too and know what I have to say.
I think it was Thomas Edison or someone who said something about how an idiot is someone who tries the same things over and over again and expects different results. But isn't that what I'm doing? I procrastinate on all my assignments and I still don't always understand why my grades aren't up to par. I go on all these auditions and I can't fathom why no one wants me. And I write in this blog and think people will read it.
When I get in one of these moods (otherwise known as every night around this time) I listen to music, usually Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson over and over again, and I try to establish something to look forward to. My birthday is in less then two weeks, but that's going to be a total bomb. I'm not having a party. And that also happens to be the night of my school's improv team's first show. I didn't make the improv team. A good deal of my friends are on it.
So my birthday isn't really important to me this year. Did I mention my birthday is cursed? Here is a list of prior events that have occurred in my fourteen birthdays celebrated thus far:
- I moved
- my mom got pneumonia
- Yom Kippur (everyone's favorite fast day)
- my brother was sent to a hospital
And this year I will be painfully reminded of my lack of talent. That makes five of fifteen birthdays being shitty. One third. That's a lot. I'm like Chandler from Friends. He always has horrible Thanksgivings, I always have horrible birthdays.
So basically, I really hope things start looking up. I mean, they haven't since the end of 8th grade. Two things made the end of 8th grade great. One was that I did the culmination speech. I was the center of attention. Good stuff. Two was that I was leaving 8th grade, the biggest hell-hole of a year I had ever experienced. I had this idea that high school would be better. I needed a change.
I need a change now too. I need something really great to happen to outweigh the bad. I need to fast-forward to December when I can hop on a plane to Cincinnati and be with my best friend and go hang out in Chicago and do what ever we want. Until then I have school. Ugh.
Happy birthday to Confucius, Nicolas Flamel, Ed Sullivan, Brigette Bardot, Maria Canals Barerra, Naomi Watts, Hilary Duff, and Frankie Jonas.
That is an extremely eclectic group of people. I hope Ashley appreciates it.
Post-script: I'm sorry I'm not myself. Hopefully I will return to my usual witticisms in a blog or two. Thanks for reading all the way through.