Monday, January 11th, 2010
The drama has become quite intense lately, which is especially bad since my birthday party is on Friday. This means there will be seven people who hate each other stuck in a room the size of a walk-in closet for four hours.
Other than the social insanity, today was a perfectly normal stuck-in-school Monday. I slept all through math and didn't do any of my homework during class so now I have a whole bunch of math homework. I'm also a horrible procrastinator; I have an English project due on Thursday that I've barely started.
But as I sit here writing this and listening to Marilyn Manson, (no one ever admits to listening to Marilyn Manson, his music is like a secretive guilty pleasure) I come to realize how much I enjoy my life compared to all those people who get their projects done weeks ahead of time. Call me a slacker if you must, but I take personal respect very seriously. I'm not going to wear myself down to nothing working on a project that has no meaning for me.
If ever I did find a project that held some meaning, you could bet your life that I would work very hard on it. Which explains why I'm writing this rather than editing my essay.
Today I think I shall describe a random object in my bedroom as if I were writing a story about it:
The lava lamp was pink and shaped much like a bullet. It had come from a gift exchange and was probably the best gift I had ever received from one. During the course of its life in my bedroom the lamp had provided hours of entertainment not only for myself, but for my guests as well. Upon first glance, one's eyes are drawn to the lamp's silver base, but are quickly directed upward towards the glass. If you know where to look you can see your reflection distorted in the glimmering sheen of the glass. When turned on, the lamp becomes quite hot and those who see it dare themselves to touch it. When they do, their inquisitive fingers never linger long upon the surface, as they are jerked back by far more practical arms.
That is all I have to say today.