I have a sore throat. Me tomorrow...
"*cough* my poem is about *wheeze* this contrived Marisot *long pause* painting..."
Even all that nice soothing ice-cream at Haagen Dazs (spelling error? Please tell me if there is) didn't help. Maybe we shouldn't have ordered all those toppings (cookie crunch, chocolate sauce and bananas) as well. Ah it was fun while it lasted. Oh the indulgence of the moment that cannot be ultimately fulfilled! Oh like I know what I'm talking about!
I look ridiculous in my blazer. The shoulders are monstrously wide. There should be a mirror in the welfare room so councillors don't get away with renting out inferior goods.
Barriers spring up like nobody's business where you don't want them. They're always there to trip over. (Which I do very often - literally and figuratively). But after you get up - maybe you learn something new. *Rubs invisible bruises*
If we have to play touch rugby for PE next week I will give up the whole morality thing I always permeate and just - disappear. In plainer terms - PON. It is a STUPID GAME and I would even rather play VOLLEYBALL than that form-a-line-and-heave-the-ball excuse for a sport.
Sometimes I like doing homework. It is so uncomplicatedly obvious to tackle, not tackle or bemoan. Not like people. Maybe I'll give up the journalism idea and opt for a lighthouse with plenty of reading material. (Stolen again from Robin Klein.)
A pleasantly painful day with many layers I absorbed composedly... and yet it is all so unexpected.
.:ning:.