Skool Daze get longer when they suck.

This is the post I promised yesterday...It was began in astronomy class and ended in English.

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Today is minerals. I'm super over them, an unfortunate byproduct of the hours I've spent in museum gift shops and science stores with their miniature sacks to fill with bite sized minerals. Fool's goold doesn't impress me - I'm Californian. I've produced the real thing from the mud with a pan. Clear quartz revives feelings of guilt from childhood, rose reminds me of my best friend. The scientific formulas on the handout make me want to cry so I close my eyes and sleep my way out of this basement classroom. Suprisingly, I don't get caught, strange because my seat is three and a half feet away from the prof.

After waking, instead of paying attention I'm letting my mind wander and where it takes me is fourth grade. I have a Pooh bucket hat and braces, smiling for the camera outside the entrance to a gold mine. Behind me, in the dark, is the funiculare in which the miners descended into the depths. "Roller coaster," we called it, giggling, feeling imagined wind on our raised palms. With the after image of flashes burning our retinas, we made a Disneyland of the past, lacking only the lines to "Meet the Miner" - though animatronics almost make up for the discrepancy. "Get shot by bandits, 2 pm, by the stagecoach. Reservations recommended." In our amusement park of Gold Rush California, lines are short and you never want to leave. Kelly bought goldflake earrings in the giftshop there, at the mine where blue water danced in the fountains and the intricate vents of the big house were painted green.

When I emerge from my reverie it's English class with the teacher I hate. She's one ofthose stupid people who think that Americans speak a different language from the British. I almost want to ask her hwat they speak in Mexico to see if she says "Mexican". Schema. There's no excuse for blatant ignorance when you're shaping the futures of a nations children. [Or when you are running the country. ::cough::Bush::cough:: Sorry...couldn't resist]. Jesus Christ! I hate it when the stupid cow says that I don't know anything because I'm American. Screw you. At least I speak English, which is more than you can truthfully claim. And when I say "peasants" I say "pEHsants," not "pEEsants." So there.

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Okay, so I have a few hostility issues against the English teacher. Not my fault! She treats me like I don't know anything...in fact, the other day she told me that I "can't know English literature". Because I'm American, of course. What a turd! God! I think she is the only teacher that I have now that really bugz me...I don't adore all the others but they don't get my dander up like she does.

In other news, I don't think that we're going to school today, 'cause Vale didn't have time to finish studying. 10 points! Though I wish that I had found that out, you know, before I woke up and got dressed etc at 7:30ish. Sleep is dear, as we all know. Vabbè...

Not bombing Boston,
Bee Electric