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bite back // scratch away

All this pep is giving me a headache.
2004-09-10 at 6:23 p.m.

I feel like my potential has been quashed. I feel like I can't write anymore. I have spurts of write-yness, but... honestly... it's like all the creativity just dried up and left.

I wonder why that is, y'know? Couldn't have anything to do with having an evil English teacher whom I want to smack repeatedly with my large literature book.

Today we found out in her class that she had been too "easy" on us. Easy? Well I guess in the sense that she hasn't taught us jack, she's been pretty easy. Except she's been grading harder than any teacher I've ever known, without telling us what she WANTS.

And on Monday, she's going to give us the specific details as to what that means. She did give us one hint, though. Our penmanship. Apparently we have to have a handwriting lesson or 50, because we can never just learn something simple and inane in one day.

No, the moronic things take a week or so to get out of the way. The tough things are briefly mentioned, then we are assigned to write essays over them, and when we fail horribly because she hasn't explained anything at freaking all to us, it's all our faults.

I'm alive and perky in first period, but by the time second period comes around, my eyelids feel droopy, and my body just shuts down.

No intellectual stimulation, nothing interesting to do, other than complain under my breath with the boy who sits behind me... God, I can't stand this.

She even gave people 70's and stuff for their projects over Oedipus Rex. 70's! Over posters! We had to make something creative, like a mask or a movie poster, or a poem, or a story, something off a list, and the artistic ones had to have a written assignment about what they made, but she gave freakin' 70's! And worse! And some weren't based on the written assignment at all! She counted off for things on a poster.

She even counted off 5 points from the kid behind me, who is VERY smart and grade-oriented, like me, because when he wrote his 200+ word essay about how he made his mask, he didn't specify which brand of lubricant he used to mold the mask to his face.

The brand. I'm sure she wanted how much it cost and where she could get it, too. GOD!

I need to hit something. Or scream. Or... gah, just something.

Yes, I have a 95 in that class, and yes, she still likes me, but I'm totally losing all interest I had in reading and writing. Mostly writing.

When I write essays for her, I don't want to do well. When I write for my World History teacher, I feel inspired to put all of my effort into it, to do what he asks, because he's been there for me, teaching me, and now it's my turn to give back and show him what I've learned.

Not her. She's given me nothing. I should give her my all, because it'll get me the stupid grades, but I can't. I feel dead in that class, and she's the one strangling me.


I had a Pep Rally today. Can't you tell? I'm so peppy, aren't I?

It was actually kind of fun. Except I didn't sit with anyone I know. Oh well. I watched cheerleaders cheer, and dancers dance, and football players... football. Whoo team.

I also had a really bad headache by the end of the day, so that didn't help. I've had a bad sinus headache over my left eye for the past week...

I think I'll just go ahead and blame that on my English teacher too.


Well. I'm tired and bored, but thank God it's the weekend. I apologize for the big rant up there, but I seriouly feel like I'm being stifled.

And that's one source that I can definitely pinpoint as stifling.

<-Ghost->


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bite back // scratch away

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