What? Again?

Is it a bad thing I don't want to finish writing about this day? Perhaps. Or maybe not. I'm just so tired.

Since I don't know where I left off five hours ago, and I didn't go back and read the last few things I wrote on the last journal, I'll say I left off at second hour. Am I right? You know, Calc with Scott? Not as bad as what I think I've been hearing about him. He says the homework's really important in that class, in order to get a good grade, and for me that shouldn't be too much of a problem. Math and German are the only subjects I really am on top of the homework. History and English are my problem areas.

Then I only had to walk across the school, staying on the top level (thank-you Air--and this is totally not the first time I've been grateful to what I believe in, as I've had a lot of minuscule miracles lately) to get to Frau Z's old room. Contrary to what I've been hearing over the summer, she had not retired. In fact, I saw her on the way to German class. But Frau Schmid has taken over her classroom, which I'm taking as a bad sign. She's just not qualified to teach German IV, whereas Frau Z is, so I think until we get a teacher who is qualified, I get Frau Z again next year. Yay!

At first, I was worried. I entered the classroom, and Frau Schmid started babbling in German. Yes, I've been up on my German this summer, but the way she talks, it's so new! I couldn't understand which words she was using. But after she started going on and on after the bell rang, I got used to her accent. I understood most of what she was saying. It wasn't until about halfway through class that she started switching back into English. *sigh* German's going to be fun this year.

Note to self: If I don't bring Mark's hat to school tomorrow, he'll kill me in German class.

After a lot of babbling on Frau Schmid's part, the bell rang to release us to our fourth hour. Mrs. Marsh was only a couple rooms down again. And . . . another crazy teacher. And this one tops off Mr. Callaghan and Frau Schmid. "Fu fu," you know, the frizzles you get when you tear a sheet out of a spiral-bound notebook, drive her crazy. "Prisoners," the little circles you get from a hole-punch, drive her crazy. If she sees any Fu fu or Prisoners, she admits she'll stop class until they are cleaned up. And she swears. Sometimes she monitors her words, saying "Bad Word," but other times they just slip out of her mouth. And that's just the first day of school, and not even taking into consideration the class. She's my English teacher. One of the classes I don't like, because teachers are stupid enough to pay attention to every detail, where the author probably didn't even intend a metaphor or some other crazy crap. I don't like essays, I don't like speech, I don't like any of the crap. Composition of creative writing, I'll work with that. Vocabulary, of course! I need to contend with Alyssa. ^^ Short stories, like Ninja Woods and stuff, that I can do. Structural crap, I don't care at all, so even an effort turns out as crap. The bright side of this class is that a lot of people I know are in it. Worm (don't tell him I called him that), Alyssa and Austin Clark (why do I always think of him as a first name and last name name?) are in there, and Char and Em as well. It'll be fun, I hope.

Then I had to get back down the stairs, but it's to the Art Room. My favorite room in the whole school, even if it is a fridge. But Autumn immediately thinned the class (most people didn't have the pre-requisite class) and we all retreated to outside. And the only thing we did was just talk about how the class was run, and what we wanted to get out of the class. This is an advanced class, so we'll be challenged. My chosen challenge? Mostly to experiment with styles. But I also need to start working on getting a portfolio together. Only a few of the class are serious about this, though. Some people even admitted they kind of got stuck in the class, or they chose it over some math class or something. Over half of the class said they sucked at art. *facepalm*

And that was my school day. I dropped off my Chem book in my locker ('cause the com works and I still have my locker), got on the shuttle bus to the "Hub." And it took a long time to get there. Once there, we walked down the line of buses to find our bus (Emily and me), found it, got on and waited for an hour. On the bus. Joe had asked to borrow a pencil (why he didn't have one, I don't know), and when we finally did get moving, we got home almost right away. We got off, and he admitted he finished his homework on the bus.

In the house, I ate a big lunch, typed up the journal and then waited at the end of the driveway to be picked up. That's about all the time I had for. And I didn't even get to finish that journal, which is why I'm typing another one today. *points to title*

Olivia had to pick me up early because she had to see the trainer's, and I had to go with her. It wasn't that bad. About a quarter of an hour before we were supposed to be on the field, I sprinted around the track (it's only a tenth of a mile) and stretched. Then I got my shin guards, ankle guards, socks and cleats on, and went to the field. I got there and no one was ready. So while everyone was warming up and stretching, I just stayed warm.

We had conditioning today. It wasn't something easy, like Met Con 1. No, it was sprinting from one side of the field to the other, over and over and over again. I have no idea how many times we repeated it. But after a while, my throat just burned. It was really windy out, and we were fighting the wind half of the time.

Later, when we had a 3/4 field scrimmage and we put together a new defense set-up, and I was what we're calling a cutter. Just cutting across the field, pretty much. And there was an intense gust of wind, and I almost fell over trying to fight it and missed getting to the ball. Of course I got yelled at, and not the yelling at I like. I do like being told where to be sometimes.

Had some good team player bonding when I was being subbed out, though. Dissing the new school system's pretty fun. And I got to hang out with JV players most of the time, so *shrug*.

My paragraphs are getting shorter.

Then after practice, I knew that Dad was not picking me up, because according to him I can wait half of an hour, so Mom said I could either wait at the field or meet her at Morning Star. I'm so glad I took the initiative to jog over there (jog most of the time, not walk). I didn't have my tennis shoes, so I was forced to go in cleats or flip-flops. Hmm . . . I wonder which I wore. I was offered a ride by a car of field hockey people at one point, but I refused. And when I got to Morning Star, I had a short chat with Alisha, and then I saw my mom dumping trash into the dumpster. When she pulled up to me and I got inside, she said she had forgotten about me and would have gone straight home. I was tired and thirsty (I had to dump out the rest of my water so I could jog), but at least I had a ride home.

Then we get home and we have lasagna for dinner. *gag*

SONG OF THE DAY: Just Can't Get Enough ~ Depeche Mode