Today is Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Today is Tuesday, February 7, 2012
There are about six people on campus at any given time who believe I am very intelligent. These are the people who are currently only just beginning to know me. Those who have known me for a while will know by now that the only reason I am able to make coherent sentences is because I’ve had so much practice.
Whenever I hear about concerts, I picture tons and tons of brightly clothed people all crowded next to each other in one place, cheering and screaming their heads off when their favorite artist comes on. These days I’ve been constantly hearing people talk about the latest dubstep/electronic dance music concert and I’ve also been seeing links to dubstep songs on YouTube on my Facebook homepage.
The first thing you might notice about Eden is that in order to see her you have to look quite a ways down. Granted, she’s only six, but it’s still surprising because when she speaks she doesn’t sound very small at all. Were it not for the fact that her voice is coming from somewhere in the vicinity of your hip, you might think she were as tall as you.
Petrichor is the smell of rain on stone. It’s the start of something new, a change of the seasons. Or maybe its just God’s compensation for bad weather.
Believe it or not, Homecoming invitations, like pufferfish chowder and physics labs on carbon copy notebooks, can be disastrous if not thought out carefully. Usually, I would never give dance invitations a second thought. I loathe the basic idea of having to ask someone, mostly because Ron Weasley showed me how bloody scary it can be during the Yule Ball.
“DODSON, behind the tree!” The boy presiding over the can called to my defeated twelve-year-old ears. So back I trudged across the field to the starting place next to the girls’ enormous penthouse of a tent. They giggled at me … the pansies. I figured they needed to man up and play kick the can like the rest of us. I would have told them so, but I had more important matters to attend to.
made my first friend in P.E. I was standing on the sidelines dribbling a ball when a girl came over to say hi. After that, we chatted every now and then, and I eventually got to know her friends too.
I have noticed something rather alarming in the mornings: the contrast between my life and my dad’s working life. At 6:30, I’m rushing to zero period while my dad is in his pajamas, watching the news while he makes breakfast. “Maybe I’ll go to the gym now,” he says, contemplating his morning activities as I run out.
I don’t often find myself strolling through a sterile florescent labyrinth of hospital halls on my merry way to a mental ward, but when I do it tends to leave an impression.