Fifty Minutes of Freedom
She gave me fifty minutes. Let’s do this.
There isn’t much inspiration in my mind as far as writing goes. Strangely, I’ve been more inspired than usual, and yet none of it is about writing. Even now I’m more interested in the Book Fair title than this actual blog post…
It’s for a grade, alright?
On a higher note, the drama plays are next week. I’ve never really under stood that term: “on a higher note”. I mean, as a fellow alto I should know that low notes can sound just as good as high ones, and that the low notes are needed to pick up the high ones. Well, I guess you could argue that the word “high” I generally thought to be positive, but in this day and age, the word “high” has a double meaning…
I’ll just stop now.
So yeah, before my weird mind interrupted me, the drama plays are next week, and this time it’s very special, because Forest Trail fifth graders will be attending, and that means two of my siblings are gonna see me perform without my parents having to go out of their way to bring them.
My thoughts keep drifting to emo music. I blame Carly. She and I listened to a bunch of emo bands on our way to Six Flags last Friday.
You know, the trip where Ella forced me on the Iron Rattler? The one where my choir got a superior rating from the judges?
Yeah, that one.
Ugh. Is this post long enough yet? I’m getting a headache.
I got a migraine—
My pain ranges from up, down, and sideways—
THANK GOD IT’S FRIDAY.
I’m so off track. Also, it’s Thursday.
So my little sister (and when I say “little” I mean it literally and figuratively) had a sleepover birthday last weekend and I was afraid I would be shunned by her hipster-ish friends. Not like I’m looking for approval from a bunch of 11/10-year-olds, it’s more of that I wanted to be able to walk out of my room and not be given strange looks from a cluster of girls.
Also, there was a chocolate fountain, I had to be on their good side.
So instead of staying locked in my room for twenty-four hours like I expected, I instead told inappropriate “seventh grader jokes” as they called it. Then, when they were going to sleep on the five-person recliner couch upstairs, I told them scary stories, scared the bejesus out of them, stole food from the fridge, and went to bed.
On the floor, but that’s hardly important.
Then, that morning, I ate donuts for breakfast. The end.
And, you know, now it’s Thursday, and my Shakespeare obsession is crawling back into my mind because of that stupid field trip that was so fun on Wednesday.
Typical, typical TJ.