Whatever hasn’t happened between us
Hasn’t happened again …
So around three forty this morning I wake up from a wet dream. I go take a piss and get back into bed. I lay in bed thinking of all the things that could go wrong in my life right now. I could fail a class and not be able to graduate in December. That scares me the most. And, of course, the entire school year I’ve said I’m going to work my ass off and make sure I’m not sweating my grades like I was all last year. You know, coming down to that last day of school and checking your class averages to see whether or not the final exam pushed you over into failing territory or not. And my “hardwork” showed a couple of weeks ago when we got report cards. Three A’s and a B. Really helped my GPA, too. I’m still doing pretty well in most of my classes – 96 in Economics; doing good in World Geography; math shouldn’t be bad. But the weird thing is that as soon as we got our report cards our English teacher went crazy on us. She started giving vague assignments with no time to be completed. And this really shows itself in my current grade in her class. Over half the class is failing. Now, hopefully, my grade will rise since I turned in some notes that she had earlier said she wouldn’t allow me to turn in late (one friggin’ day. I’m sorry I sometimes fuck up like everyone else and something falls out of my book onto the floor of the backseat of my car. I’m sorry I’m not fucking perfect.) and had therefore entered a zero in the book. But yesterday I talked to her and she didn’t remember saying she wouldn’t let me turn it in, so she’s giving me half credit for it. Whatever. Half is better than none. What really pisses me off is that I did all the work on that damn note packet in my group (fucking cooperative learning groups: where William does all the work and we copy), but sincethey remembered their packets they got full credit formy work. So anyway, I’m really worried that something might happen that will prevent me from graduating early. I hope to God nothing does.
On another note, today toward the end of fourth period World Geography, a girl asked me, “What are you mixed with?” I wasn’t thrown off too much by this question. When you live near an Army post that’s always one of the first questions people ask. You see, Army people are really into this interracial couplehood thing. Which is great for them. It just causes identity problems for their kids. Anyway, she asks, “What are you mixed with?” And I say, “Mixed with? Who says I have to be mixed with anything?” She replied, “Well, I meant, what are your nationalities?” I say, “I’m American.” “Oh.” So I turn around, hoping she’ll leave me alone, although I am enjoying this not-so-rare opportunity to speak with pure, unrefined idiocy. A couple of seconds after I’ve turned away from her and started looking for someone, anyone to talk to with half a brain, she says, “Are you white?” Now, that just takes the cake. I mean, come on. What kind of question is that? I am completely dumbfounded by her dumbness. So, I hold up my hand and say, “Are you color blind?”
and a gun to my head