Diary Post
Tests here are extreme. What I mean by that is they are either easy or impossible. My english teacher is a joke. Two feet tall and a major case of the sags...it's a wonder she has children. What I find funny about her is that she knows nothing of the english language. (She is from Bogota, Columbia)
I guess that it's good the school is like this, because if it weren't I would be unable to focus on what is truely important to me. Tennis. Every day after school a strenuous, asthmatic invoking practice is upheld. It begins as drills and moves on to match play....match play. Matches are the only reason I wake up in the morning. The feel of drilling someone six love six love is un imitatable. Seeing an already sullen-faced droidish imitation of a human child try to replicate the emotion of sadness is very amusing. If only these people knew what they were missing in the real world.
Its the night before i take the PSAT...I"m a little bit nervous but over the past two years I've learned how to cope with my nerves. Deep breaths and no thoughts. It's not something that i want to do, it is something that I must do to survive. When I'm not worrying about her i'm worrying about my life, and whether or not it'll ever be what I want it to be...what its expected to be from the people in my family. Damn, I'm already regretful of so much. the one thing I will never forgive myself for is leaving her behind. Living without her is like living without my heart. It's like that song, "Because my heart is in Ohio" except mine is in Virginia. I dont' know what to do!?!? I can either do what is expected of me, live here and become what i'm meant to be...Or I can twist fate, and live my dream now...Either way I'll disappoint those I love...
Words by Painful Profits
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Written on 2006-10-18 at 03:59
Tags Ugh
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My Diary, October 17 2006
I don't know why but it seems like each day I spend here is longer then the previous. Schedules never change, then again, nothing ever really changes at a boarding school. I mean, people will come and go but it seems like for those who leave an exact replica is immediatly installed into the system. The same droid-like children, the same sullen faced teachers and of course the same drill sergeant wannabe coaches. Spanish has begun so we must ajourn to a later time...Tests here are extreme. What I mean by that is they are either easy or impossible. My english teacher is a joke. Two feet tall and a major case of the sags...it's a wonder she has children. What I find funny about her is that she knows nothing of the english language. (She is from Bogota, Columbia)
I guess that it's good the school is like this, because if it weren't I would be unable to focus on what is truely important to me. Tennis. Every day after school a strenuous, asthmatic invoking practice is upheld. It begins as drills and moves on to match play....match play. Matches are the only reason I wake up in the morning. The feel of drilling someone six love six love is un imitatable. Seeing an already sullen-faced droidish imitation of a human child try to replicate the emotion of sadness is very amusing. If only these people knew what they were missing in the real world.
Its the night before i take the PSAT...I"m a little bit nervous but over the past two years I've learned how to cope with my nerves. Deep breaths and no thoughts. It's not something that i want to do, it is something that I must do to survive. When I'm not worrying about her i'm worrying about my life, and whether or not it'll ever be what I want it to be...what its expected to be from the people in my family. Damn, I'm already regretful of so much. the one thing I will never forgive myself for is leaving her behind. Living without her is like living without my heart. It's like that song, "Because my heart is in Ohio" except mine is in Virginia. I dont' know what to do!?!? I can either do what is expected of me, live here and become what i'm meant to be...Or I can twist fate, and live my dream now...Either way I'll disappoint those I love...
Words by Painful Profits
Read 1019 times
Written on 2006-10-18 at 03:59
Tags Ugh
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
