Summer boredom has reached it's peak. It usually does around the last few days of summer, since they go by so slowly. Every day is just me sitting around thinking about how school will go, hoping I don't look like a social idiot, and wishing I actually had a friend there this year.

Why do I turn everything into an emo whine-fest?

Anyway. I am bored. Bored to the point of making art out of Perrier bottles and having a dance marathon alone to Janet Jackson. I ache for long, time-consuming, paper-wasting Calculus homework. I pine for those cold plastic chairs annoyingly attached to fake wooden desks. I long for those stupid, bulletproof, no-higher-than-the-top-of-the-kneecap plaid polyester skirts.

On the other hand, I'm not looking forward to the social aspect. I loathe the round plastic lunch tables strategically placed to promote interaction between every student. The social interaction is particularly pleasant when squeezing oneself between two very large quarterbacks in an attempt to get the last batch of cheesy fries. Or when that lovely polyester plaid number gets caught in the hinges of our decrepit metal folding chairs, revealing to the entire cafeteria that you are wearing Hello Kitty panties. Oh the joys I have experienced in Fellowship Hall 2/Cafeteria.

I also despise the general idiotic humor I'm expected to be hysterical over spewed out by the most unintelligent of football players. Yes, of course, instead of listening to our teacher, who is trying very hard to restrain from beating a few parents over the head for even thinking about reproducing, I'm supposed to sit and giggle over the "wit" uttered by Mr. McDreamy about my English teacher's pants.

And oh, the locker small-talk. I despise locker small-talk. As a high school student, I am expected to get to know the kid next to me who smells a little like salami, be friendly, exchange notes, etc. Last year, I didn't know his name until I looked him up in the yearbook at the end of the year. Apparently, this is a mortal sin. So what if I don't personally feel like making awkward small talk with someone who steps on my foot, bangs into my locker door so hard that it shatters the magnetic mirror, manages to get his backpack caught in my locker door every day, and is generally loud, obnoxious, and uncoordinated? Is that so wrong?

Oh what I would give to sit in the corner and do my AP Calculus homework in peace without having Jane Cheerleader tell everyone that I do that because I'm secretly on crack, pregnant, or a lesbian and I don't want anyone to find out.



In conclusion:

I hate high school.



Edit: Excuse me, I need to be a girl for a second. I got a new haircut. It's all layery and junk so it actually looks like a hairstyle as opposed to a big flap of curly redness. And it's no longer red. I got it to my natural color, which much to my surprise, is almost blackish brown. I always thought it was light honey brown. But oh well.

It looks hot.