9/11 - Flag VengeanceMature

Like the fall of the two towers, the past few days seem to have been lost from my memory. All I remember is that I slept walked the other night and I woke up sitting, propped up against the foot of the bed with my blankets wrapped neatly around me. 

This morning I slept in and biked to school since I had an out period. I took an unnecessary amount of time to make myself a tuna sandwich and finished my math homework. Leaving the house, I planned to stop by the music store to buy a box of clarinet reeds for my section, but the store ended up being closed. As I rode my bike to school I passed by hundreds of American flags. None of which made me feel remotely near the emotion of solemnity. 

Technically my first class was Advisory, but everyone knows it's not really a class. It's just a sort of "homeroom" period the school added to make them look better. Anyway, during this "Advisory" period, I went to my clarinet sectional. Most of my section showed (although late) and we actually got some work done (which is saying something). 

I also have a temporary out in 6th period, so I walked down to the music store (now open) and bought the box of reeds. I walked back to school and still had almost an hour to spare until the rest of the classes were let out for lunch. I ended up piddling around in the library during all that time. I don't even remember what I was doing. 

At lunch I read quotes about writing and listened to my friend Eleanna recite an eloquent poem about ducks and pelicans. 

Next I had Chinese. I swear we did something, but I can't remember anything that we learned. 

I then went down to the nearby coffee shop to have a band leadership meeting. I realize now, that after today, it might look like I'm a huge band nerd and spend most of my time playing my clarinet, when in reality, I still have troubles playing an A flat scale. I really don't know why so much of this day was dedicated to band. Anyway we ended up spending an hour there. 

Walking back to school in the blistering heat, I then went to the weight room to work out for dry land. I only ended up getting about half an hour in before I had to hop on my bike and make the laborious ride home. On the way, two babies said "hi" to me and an American flag hit me full in the face. I walked up my hill, too exhausted to attempt its steep incline.

I only had time to drop my bag and get a drink of water before my dad grabbed me for the finishing touches of our house. Lately my dad has single handedly taken up the project of painting our entire house bright blue. On his command, I climbed up a slightly unstable ladder to hold up painted boards for him to nail to the wall on the side of the house. With the "belly strap" finally set in place, he let me go. 

I forgot what happened since then, but I know something productive happened. Alright, so my memory's not the best, but I sure can remember that flag slapping me in the face. It was as if it was getting its revenge for me not remembering 9/11 twelve years ago. I guess I sort of deserved it. 

The End

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