Deadlines, Onions and Yearbooks

Ok, I'm officially stressing. Now that last week is over, this week is mostly work and very little play. I.E. Our theory compositions are due this Wednesday, and while I was able to enter five measures this morning, I have a feeling I won't be able to get it done.... As if that's not enough, I'm breaking into another episode out ofmanic, so everything seems like crap. Even the sunshine and 90 degree weather [which is mine] seems bleak and empty. My insides seem like ice, and my skin feels like fire. Oh no. I feel poetry coming on. Refer to the left column to see if it really will.

After a grueling third hour quiz [I say gueling because it was absolutely ridiculous. I can understand the importance of quizes, but to need to score a 29 of 30 when the questions are all snagged is absolutely ridiculous. For this reason I had to take the bloody thing fifty million times], I walked into fourth hour and was immediately asked if I could handel a knife well. Wondering in what regard, I asked, and was informed that I would be chopping and slicing ith it. Perfect. My medium entirely. If there is one thing I can do relatively well, it is cooking. However, I've never been a fan of slicing onions. Leave it be said that my nearly perfect makeup was not spared. Nor were my hands. They still smell like onions. How vile.

Seeing as today was the day to collect our yearbooks, there was a mad dash from our sixth period to the square where they were distributed. I, however, felt no inclination to act like the half crazed attention starved mongrel that most were. Because of this, I sauntered to my locker to collect my jazz, and then gradually wandered to where I saw one of my very good friends. From here I waited in line with them, and then they in my line. Yes, they're distributed alphabetically. Anywho, the result of the situation, I was a tad late for my Witch Doctor's appointment. My mom had the time of her life shunting her negativity towards me. Since then I've been absolutely retched. My chi is out of sync with the world I suppose. Or my feng shui has been fenged the wrong way. Whatever it is, I suppose I'm out to write stuff down. Cheers.