Enh.
May 07, 2005, 10:57 p.m.

I am so sore. So tired. I hate marching band, and I especially hate marching band training.

Have you ever thought of a word to use, and then suddenly can't think of the word any more? I seem to do it quite often. For example, instead of "training" above, I wanted to use "conditioning"-- of which I just remembered right now. I think I'm getting stupider as time progresses, for I didn't have this problem when I was younger, but that's okay.

As long as I can still find the bathroom in my own house, I'm okay.

In other news, Mr. Cidel decided to lay the guilt trip on me:

"I'm mad at you."
"What, why?"
"I thought you were going to go out for drum major."
"Oh."

My ass. I don't want to be in charge of our nasty, crappy marching band. I'd much rather be band captain. Or student conductor. But not drum major. Too much work.

One AP down, two to go! And makeup work for all of ze classes! Yaaay! I don't know who the idiot was to schedule State MPA one week and All-County the next. Argh.

I miss Pioneer. As dorky and as drippingly disgusting it might seem to you, I miss him. Our time together yesterday kinda sucked. We went to his saxophone lesson, then his dance rehearsal. The latter didn't end until 10:00. My curfew is at 11:30. So we went back to his house, where I took a shower (I was all disgusting from practice), and I zonked out. This was around 11 that I fell asleep. But that's okay, because I love waking up in his arms. It's one of the best feelings in the world. I love it more than anything. I love him more than anything.

And today I've talked to him for only a few minutes via teleophone, for he taught a class at three, then got ready for a performance. He's not to get home 'til after midnight. I miss him. So much.

Okay, it's over. No more gushing. I promise.

Enh. Back hurts. Butt hurts. Shoulder hurts. Feet hurt. Even the arches of my feet hurt.

I hate marching band.

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