Facinating... this was last updated June 13th? I must admit, I have returned a couple of times since my last post, but I lacked any interesting or slightly less inane things to say, so... I continued on my merry way, hoping Taria would fill the void. But I forgot that she does Things. Real Things, which I do not do. Namely, work. And hang out with people. And travel. And generally be busier and more active than I.

Ah, 4:03 am on a Tuesday morning. I had all four of my wisdom teeth torn from my body last week. Okay, "torn" is obviously exaggerating, but I hate being cut open in any situation. They gave me an IV, and in five minutes, I was out. I woke up with a mouth full of bloody gauze and a head that felt sort of drunk (a feeling which I would not actually know, having never really been drunk before). Today is day eight of the mighty healing process, and I have graduated from water, to broth, to noodle soups, to just noodles, to pizza. I have finally arrived at the station called real food. I can also drink through a straw now, as the danger of giving myself a "dry socket" (supposedly very painful) has passed with the seventh day.

My skool forms arrived yesterday. Oh, how I long to take my life - as bland as it may be - and mold it onto the many lines of a little blue oaktag card. Yes, yes... sign this, sign that. Make me a member of the football team, pay for extra fries every Thursday, and volunteer my parents to be shot into space on the official Millard North "We Can Do Anything We Want To Because We're An IB School" rocket. And I mustn't forget: I'm a senior this year! That's what, almost three extra stations I'll have to stop at during registration. But at least I have the ::light from mysterious unearthly source shines:: sweet privilege to leave during second hour. Too bad the school will probably oversell parking permits again, so some sophomore in her brand new Eclipse who called herself out of first and second hour (so she could spend extra time on her makeup) can cut me off, blare her music, and take the last empty space, thus forcing me to seek out Fred for permission to park on the landscaping and generally preventing me from getting to my third hour class on time. Somewhere, the High Skool Gods have that scenario written on a note card, and they're waiting ever so patiently for me to even *want* to leave second hour. I'll show them... I'll go buy an Eclipse.

That is all. See you on the other side.