School, Giant Pancakes, and Rants

  Well this has been an interesting few weeks, if I do say so myself. Hectic weeks, good weeks, I have no idea weeks....
    That's how it goes.

Just kidding. I am feeling very very lazy right now, and I do not know how I am supposed to even write anything right now. I keep missing the keys I want to push and nothing is going the way I want it to.

I am going to do a happy dance. You all know how I have been really stressing out about my Government class, and complaining quite frequently about how I fail at Government and how it is too hard and how I can't do it because I'm too stupid.... Well TAKE THAT, Government class! I have a B in your class and I not only aced the last test, but the two assignments before then, too! Yeah! Woo! Other than that, school is going pretty great. I did, however, get in trouble in ICT1, for being too "graphic and gruesome" with my journals right when I get to class. Let me explain.

Not all of the journals she complained about were graphic or gruesome, just weird. Still. What a whiner. Just because I am one of the few people in your class who can actually write with no problem about absolutely ANY journal prompt you give me.... Nope. Just kidding, go right ahead and complain after you tell us that creativity is what you're looking for. Apparently she is scared to look at my journals now, which means that i could always just get an automatic 100% on her journals. Win!

I am planning on giving you guys the last few journals that I did, so that you can read them. So here they are:

October 4, 2012
My dog jumped up and started barking, then...
I turned around quickly, trying to find the source of the barking. There was a horrible tap against the door. It happened repeatedly, becoming slowly louder and stronger. There was someone, or something out there. I walked slowly towards the door, and the big windows beside it. Heavily curtained, I couldn’t make out any shapes behind it. The tapping became hitting, this quick, frantic noise. Shapes began to move outside the window. I peeked through the curtains; panic rose in me as I saw many deformed shapes in the street outside. They moved at a quick, horrific pace. Their bodies were obviously human at some point in time, but now only barely resembled the human form. Flesh was stripped from bone, but they didn’t bleed. They just kept going, partially running, partially walking around. I looked towards the door.

One of my friends was pressed up against my locked door, beating against it, looking in panic towards the street. Finally, one of the... shapes or whatever they actually were looked towards my house. Upon seeing my friend, it started to lope towards her. She saw it, beat against the door a few more times, turned, screamed at the top of her lungs. It was a terrible, high pitched, blood curdling, goosebump giving scream. She took off, which was the obvious mistake. The shape ran after her, and caught her arm, pulling her down to the ground. It sat on her stomach as she kicked her legs and flung her arms about frantically, trying to get rid of it. It swatted at her hands a few times, and as I watched through the window, it hit her, fingers pointed, right at her chest. It’s hand sunk right through her as though she was made of jello. She became still, blood pouring from her chest. Her legs twitched once. The shape leaned towards the trail of blood, and slowly started to suck it up into itself. Once it had dried her up, it stood up and took her by the arm, bringing her up with it. Both of them standing now, she turned her head back and forth, moving her arms and legs slowly. Then, they both looked towards where I was standing, horrified, in front of the window, the curtains thrown aside.

October 9, 2012
It was quiet, too quiet. That could only mean that...
     Something was completely and utterly wrong. Or right, whichever. It honestly depended on how you wanted to see it. If it is completely silent, it could mean that something bad could be close to happening, or it could also mean that something utterly horrible was about to happen. Either way, something was or wasn’t going to happen. But at the same time, what does that mean? What if the complete silence was something good, but was horrible to someone who is so used to noise? Would that make sense at all?
      Or was it so far beyond sense that making sense didn’t make sense? Maybe making sense wasn’t sensible, but was far beyond that? What if making sense was the one thing that didn’t make sense? Then, in that case, would making sense not making sense make sense? Or would that simply be a problem that nobody could resolve? I guess my question is, is there any sense to making sense in the case of making sense? Because if we all try to make sense of everything, I do believe that there would be chaos everywhere.



October 11, 2012
He was afraid, but he called upon all his courage as...
He aimed, focusing his every thought upon the arrow he had strung on the bow in his hands. He was determined to make the shot, to take down his one last remaining enemy in this woodland. His enemy was standing down at the base of a tree, poised and ready to move. His enemy had dark brown, shaggy hair. As his enemy looked around, he saw the glint of the dim light reflecting off of the deep sunken black eyes. 
        He tensed up and watched as his enemy stretched itself upright, showing the shadow of the man it used to be. Now a horrible looking and acting beast, it had hair all over it’s head, down it’s neck, chest, and arms, and it’s feet were hairy too. It snorted and shook it’s head before holding still, throwing it’s head back and letting out a high pitched whine, before holding still again and listening. He didn’t dare move. Finally, he caught the eyes of the creature, and upon seeing the pain in it’s eyes, he loosed the arrow.

October 15, 2012
I was counting my candy when...
        I decided to eat a piece. It was just a small bit of chocolate. I ate the one, then moved on to another. I ate and ate, piece after piece, chocolate after chocolate. I couldn’t stop myself, I just kept on eating. I loved the taste of the decadent, creamy, smooth and rich flavors of the different kinds of chocolate. Smooth caramel melted on my tongue, rich peanut butter mixed with bitterly sweet dark chocolate. I could not stop.
        And as I ate, I grew. My stomach expanded, my legs became thick. I grew bigger and bigger, taller, wider, longer. I burst out of my clothes, continuing to expand until I was as big as the house. Then I became buoyant, floating a bit off the ground, which seemed impossible due to my enormous size. I floated, out the wall of the house, and up into the air. I felt my face become hot, and I felt hollow inside. My knees came up to my chest, me unwilling them to. They stuck together, and I felt a sticky substance gluing my legs together and to my chest. I became lighter, less dense, but a rock was in my stomach. I had become a hot air balloon.


October 17, 2012
They claimed the house was haunted, but it looked okay to me, so....
        I walked right inside, unhindered by my friends who were previously outside with me. Not a single one wanted to go inside. They were easily frightened, which made no sense. I knew the rumors, I knew the stories. I didn’t believe any of them fully, but I did believe them partially. I guess I just didn’t know what to believe properly. As I was inside, I noticed a staircase. I walked towards it, intending on going up the stairs. I took a step. It was silent, but as I slowly started to make my way up the stairs, they began to groan with my every step. I was a light, small person, but the stairs were old.
      Suddenly, a creak came from behind me on the stairs. I turned slowly, keeping my head down, not wanting to look. There was nothing behind me, save for a trail of graying flesh and what looked like a mixture of mucus and blood. I followed it, to where it led back up the stairs. I saw a foot, a gruesome, horrid foot. I could see the bone through the ghastly gray skin, and it was coated in the same mucus-and-blood mixture I had seen on the staircase. I looked up, only to see a face that looked as terrible as the foot had, staring me right in my eyes, unblinking with it’s one good eye. A blood-curdling shriek erupted into the air, and I realized that it was me who had produced the sound.    

    The front door at the base of the staircase burst open, and one of my friends ran into the house, and with a yell, I knew it was my best guy friend named Samson. He charged up the staircase, the stairs groaning in protest, and the next thing I knew, the zombie-like thing in front of me was in pieces.
It was then that I was puzzled. Samson hadn’t been with my other friends outside of the house.           Where had he come from, and what was he doing here? When I asked him, he just gave me a look that clearly said he was a bit mad at me for being here. But he did explain that he knew about the zombie-like creatures. He had seen me from down the street, walk into this haunted place, that wasn’t really haunted at all because there were no ghosts here, just the zombie-things. He had heard my scream, and had come running. As I looked at him now, I realized that he held a set of machetes, one in each hand. When he saw me looking at them, he slid them into a strap on his back. He looked at me, with a relieved look on his face, and then spoke again.
     “When I heard you yell, I thought something horrible had already happened to you. I’m really glad that...” That is when I screamed again. The stair broke underneath me, and one of my legs was now stuck between the slats in the staircase. I felt a cold, clammy, bonelike hand grab my leg, and sharp pain ran through it in small areas, repeatedly. It was then that I realized that I was being bitten. I yelled again, panicked now because of the stories that we didn’t know were true or not, of being turned into one of these gruesome beings by being bitten. Samson looked at me in horror, and then jumped past me and down the stairs, crashing into something at the bottom. He yelled like a madman, and I heard splatters everywhere, something wet and sticky hit my lower leg where it was stuck. Finally it went quiet, for only a moment. I saw Samson again, in front of me. He put his arms underneath mine, and helped me out of the stair.

October 19, 2012
It was so windy. It...
        Blew the sticks and small rocks from the kicked up gravel right back into my face. My face was freezing; it felt stiff when I moved it. I did not have so much time left to stay outside. I could see the impending storm, could hear the wind slowly picking up, even harder than it already was blowing. A huge gust blew through the small valley. And as I felt the cold air hit my whole body, I felt tiny delicately frozen snowflakes hit my skin where it showed through on my neck, face, and hands. Something hit my face with a sharp smack. I put one hand up to my cheek, to cover the mark, and looked down. There was a decently medium sized rock on the ground by my foot. I had to get inside. 
        I turned, pulling my hand from my face, and only seeing a faint tint of crimson on my pale skin before I ran towards the house from whence I came. I dashed towards the house, disregarding the path that was a ways to my left. I jumped over the small, natural obstacles in my way, leaping agiley over the small boulders and the browned and fallen trees. I could feel the storm at my back as I reached the front door. I wrenched on the handle, throwing myself inside the dark interior of the front room. The wind blew through the door, bringing a growing mass of snowflakes with it. I stood upright from my crouched position on the floor from where I landed after jumping inside, and shoved the door with my whole weight, forcing it to shut despite the wind. I locked it swiftly, and then ran to all the other doors and windows, making sure they were all locked as well.
         I could see the snow piling up outside the windows and doors, a full out blizzard taking place outside. I sunk into a couch near the window, and sitting back, I looked around at my solitary abode. It was then that I noticed the red spots scattered on the carpet. Feeling something warm and sticky on my neck and arm. Holding my arm up, I realized that my face must have finally thawed enough for the blood from the cut to flow freely. I ambled my way up the stairs, and walking into the bathroom, I turned on the water, letting the warmth rinse the blood from my skin. The door shifted, ever so slightly, and I looked up, into the mirror. I first saw the flash of red from my face, and then the eyes. The black and white, horrific eyes of the one thing I feared the most, standing directly behind me from behind the door.

 

And the most recent one that got me a weird look from her... (I don't have problems, I swear it)

  

October 23, 2012
The mysterious object started floating in the air and...
I flicked the lights on so that I could see what was there. A scream choked itself in my throat. There was a knife with nothing holding it, floating in the air. A long, thin, crude, bloody knife. It floated there, rotating so I could see every macabre angle of the weapon. I made no noise, holding my breath so I wouldn’t be tempted to scream. I looked around, trying to find a source, almost hoping to see someone else in the room, controlling the knife. There was nobody else there. It was just me, the seemingly possessed knife, and the pool of blood that was slowly forming underneath its floating rotations.
Suddenly it stopped rotating. I flicked my eyes up to focus on it solely, still holding my breath, but breathing out ever so slowly through my nose as to not make any noise. I was not quite sure why I needed to keep quiet, only that I knew it was a good idea. Suddenly my cat came through the door behind me, coming full speed into the room. It ran right to the puddle of blood on the floor, laid down in it, and became utterly still. I watched as her breathing stopped entirely, and it was then that I realized she was dead. I heard fingernails against the wall by my side, and I turned, to see another puddle of blood on the ground, with my youngest sibling, my little sister scratching her way across the wall to it. With one hand still on the wall, she slid down it into the puddle on the floor, and also became still. Slowly the rest of my family and friends appeared in the room, each one having their own horrible deep crimson colored puddle on the ground or furniture that they would sink into.
I was left alone, just me and the knife. Suddenly it was in my hand, and I felt pure hatred pouring out from me. I screamed.

 

 

 

 

Alright, I admit it, they are pretty messed up sometimes. I just.. get bored. Her class is really really easy for me to do. Lame sauce. But yes, that is how school goes for me nowadays.

 

Work. I suppose you noticed that part of the title of this post is "giant pancakes", which, in all reality, was a very humorous story for me. I was closing last week with Lesley, and if the dough gets really room temperaturey and doughey and stickey and bad grammarey, we put it through the oven, no toppings, just dough, and throw it out (after closing). Well, I made a comment about how it looks like a giant pancake in the pan once it goes through the oven, and long story really condensed and short, I believe that we agreed that it would be fun to make enormous pancakes in the oven at work, using the pizza pans. HILARIOUS, I think. 

 

With the rest of work, I'm really mad at the two newest girls that Lesley decided to hire. Again, long story short...

 

WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THE JOB OFFER IF YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO DO ANYTHING TO WORK OR LISTEN TO PEOPLE WHEN THEY ASK YOU TO HELP OR DO THINGS?!?!?!??!

 

Makes me mad. Love you guys! -Caitehttp://www.facebook.com/

    So I can understand that I've been neglecting posting something lately. I just want to say that I am sorry, and that it is not because nothing has been going on, but that I have just either been too busy or forgetful.
    But first of all, school. This is actually becoming more and more difficult, the more time goes by. I know it's only the beginning of the fourth week of school and all, but I mean... There is just so much actually stressing me out at this point in time. It's ridiculous. So far, all of my classes are going pretty decent. EXCEPT for U.S. Government. Let's just say that Mr. Templeton is my new least-favorite teacher EVER. Urghlblurhgl. I didn't do too hot on his first test that he gave us. Missed 16 points out of 66, which gave me a "D" on the test. It would help me a lot if he would actually teach the class instead of just giving us page after page of notes and making us read out of the book. I don't learn anything that way, that's for sure. And who on earth gives a test based on the upcoming election? We have no idea what's going to happen in this election, give us a break!
    Now, the rest of school is going alright. Weights is killing me, personally. Pushing myself to lift and move weights that often times weigh more than I do, myself, is really difficult sometimes. And as a result of being stubborn and determined, I often put more weights on than I know I can handle, and suffer for it greatly afterwards. Honestly, I didn't know my pectoral muscles could actually hurt this bad. It's ridiculous! All the muscles that you didn't know could hurt so bad, do. And even then, your teacher isn't satisfied with you. It gets to be pretty... well... aggravating. I'm pretty sure I'm donig my best, so if you aren't satisfied, back off. Holy cow.
    And then there is Myth and Symbol. Oh boy. Mr. Gibson is my favorite person ever. Except not really. He didn't even teach J-Writ last year, so I was, and still am, rather reluctant to be taking him this year, because I feel like I am not going to be learning anything in his class. Anyways, in Myth and Symbol we are watching The Matix, and I keep giggling all the way though it because I still find it so cheesy and hilarious. It's pretty bad.
    And band, on the other hand... well let's just say that I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut sometimes. Everytime Jordan (our drum major) goes "one, two, three, four!" to start the song, my brain always responds with "Woohoo", just like the song Black Horse and the Cherry Tree (or whatever it's called, you know what I'm talking about). And we constantly have to stand up or sit down during class, just trying to see who actually knows the music. One of my fellow band members did not like standing up, (she sits right next to me, by the way), and therefore said "I am not a sheep!" in referring to the fact that she doesn't like being a follower. We then proceeded to argue about whether or not it would be appropriate to yell "I am not a sheep!" "Let my people go!" in the middle of class. We came to the conclusion, eventually, that it would not be appropriate, but instead be mildly blasphemous to the church and religion. So we refrained there.
    Work on the other hand... not going to lie to you, Angie terrifies me. If you worked with her, you would be able to understand, hopefully. She's just this tiny, angry, hormone packed person. She gets mad at everything and anything. And she likes to yell and get mad at you for no reason whatsoever, and it scares me! She's what, five feet... maybe 3 inches tall? And she scares me. I do find it kind of funny as to how someone as small as her scares me, when I work with all these guys who are over six feet tall. But they're my friends, so no fright there. Ha.
    Other than Angie, work is going wonderfully. Lesley cut down my hours to just a few a week now, because she thought it would be best to reduce my hours and let me relax a bit instead of being so stressed out and overrun due to the fact that I have seminary, school, and work, as well as homework and chores to do. How thoughtful of her. Work is so much fun though! We get everything done (okay, most of the time with a lot of complaints), and make challenges out of the smallest things, like sheetouts or boxes or landing. It's great. I really do enjoy doing landing and counter, though. They're my two favorite jobs.
    The one thing that confuses me like none other about my life right now is my friends. I do not understand why someone, who means so much to you, and who was pretty much your first real friend, would just up and start ignoring you and ditching you for other people. I mean, I know that people move on, but a little more warning would have been wonderful, instead of just quitting the friendship cold turkey. But I do, fortunately, have several other marvelous people in my life, who are willing to stay my friend. Admittedly, all but three of them are male. What can I say? Men are so much easier to get along with then women. Women are silly, stupid people and I cannot stand to be around them for very long. Don't get me wrong, I do have a lot of fun with my female friends, but the philosophy on fighting is all wrong. When guys get mad at each other, they beat each other up and are friends again. When girls get mad at each other, they fight about it, ignore each other for two months, pretend they're friends again, but then hold a grudge for two, three, four years. I think that that is really ridiculously stupid.
    Working on the Neon with Dad on Saturday was really fun, and it reminded me as to why I really wanted to go to WDT in the first place. I really enjoy working on cars, and I think it would be a good idea for me to pursue that. I had wanted to go down to USU, but then I realized that if I stay here, I have a solid plan, and could easily get a job, I think. But if I go down to USU or anyplace else, I have no idea what I would do when I get there! I'd just be lazing around, doing nothing because I have no better purpose in my life! I have no clue what is in it for me if I do go down there. No clue at all.
    I think that we all should just take a step back and take a look at our lives. I know I need to do that. But I'm just saying that if we actually look at what is going on in our lives and what is happening constantly for all of us, we would be able to find all the problems that we need to change. I know that it is certainly helping me. I have had a lot of eye openers lately, and I realize that I need to change my attitude and my actions towards a lot of people and things, including myself. I just need to figure out a solid plan for fixing everything that is going on in my life, and I believe that after that happens, that I will be able to destress and relax a little more, simply because I am more at peace with myself. Yes, I sound like a hippie, but maybe they've got something right. Haha.
     In all reality, I really enjoy being around people. Like... a lot. I feel happy and overjoyed when I can make someone else's day just by being around and happy and smiling all the time. However, on days like this, when you have no idea why everything seems to be dumping on you all at once, and you are really tired despite getting a full night's sleep, you begin to question "why". In my defence, I have no clue why, I was just stating a fact.
    I do miss my wonderful seesters, who live so very, very far away from me. It is really quite sad sometimes, how I cannot just turn to them, or make cookies with them, or things like that. I know I complain all the time about women, but you just can't do things like shopping or baking with a house full of boys. They're more intent on eating the food rather than helping you make it. Don't look at me, I usually have an appetite to compete with an elephant, so I'm really not any better than they are.
    It is starting to get colder out. I am sitting in my classes, wearing a hoodie (it's actually the Winnie-The-Pooh hoodie that Emily gave me), and I am still freezing. Yeesh. I feel like it may actually be a cold winter this year, which I am perfectly okay with because I really love my sweaters and fuzzy blankets. Slippers all the way!
    This is it for now... Sorry for taking up so much of your time with my ramblings... Wait.. Nope. I'm not sorry, because you could have stopped reading at any time. Haha! I love you all, and can't wait to talk to you. Smile, it's good for you. Love, Me.

Some People...

     May I just say, that some people make me want to repeatedly bash my head into a wall. Namely the sophomores in my World History class. Let me explain. I am the only senior in a class full of sophomores. That would be because it is a sophomore social studies class. I didn't fail it the first time, I just never took it the first time. But that is irrelevant. However, these sophomores, who should really be more intelligent than they are, are unfortunately, not. Today one of the students raised her hand, and when Mr.Noyes called on her, she asked if Nevada was a state. I think I died a little, and lost over half of my braincells, that I later collected from off of the floor. How do you NOT know that Nevada is a state???? That is just utterly ridiculous! I wanted to cry, I really did. If you do not know all 50 of the states, go back to elementary school, and relearn the states song. Go. Leave. You are hereby banished from high school until you become knowledgeable in the things you should have learned back in elementary and middle school. Bye now!
      Alright so that's that. As for my other classes so far in this school year... I don't know. Digital Video, I have decided, is my absolute least favorite class. Sorry, Mr.Blomme, but I don't think there should be a whole semester learning about something that no-one is going to follow anyways. What ever happened to just taking the video and hoping it turned out alright? But nooooooo, there are 23 different types of shots you have to do before you can even do anything. It really sucks, not going to lie. And it is during second block. I always feel like sleeping during that class, because it is so boring, not because I am tired. Red days definitely aren't my favorite. I love band, and my open mini afterwards, but I have no-one to talk to during Digital Video, and no-one to talk to during World History. That is two classes right in a row. And then I have lunch with Aileen, so that's definitely good! We laugh, talk, and gossip about EVERYONE, so watch out! Don't do anything you don't want us talking about! Okay, I'm just kidding.... Maybe... And then there is fourth block, which is weights. Weights isn't a bad class... I just really dislike being in a group full of jock showoffs who think they're really cool when they aren't. Plus they pass gas, pretty much ALL THE TIME. The weight room isn't that big... The smell spreads really fast, and it fills the whole room, and makes everyone die. It is really, really gross.
       As for work... I still love my job! It can get pretty boring during the school year, because people actually have better things to do than eat pizza all the time. So there is a lot of standing around and goofing off, and fighting over who gets to do what, just for something to do. Either way, everything still gets done on time, and everything goes alright. Plus, it's really funny when you and half of your coworkers are really ticklish, because it gets to be pretty loud in there, which is ideal for sneaking up on and then tickling people. Quite funny, really. Especially when they're doing something that can be pretty messy. Like saucing pizzas on makeline, or cutting pizzas on landing. It is really fun.
       And as for Ashley's question as to what I am doing, college wise, my answer is... Good question. Next!

*starts singing*

   ...To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cauuuuuuse, POKEMON! Gotta catch 'em all!


...And so begins a new school year, and a new attempt at blogging. (Yes, I started a new blog. Get over it.) This is the second day of the school year, and this year is my very last year at Central High School. Senior year. The big whoodly-whompus. The last time I will ever be subjected to Norma's rath. Seriously. Yesterday was the first day of the school year, and she was already acting like someone peed in her Cheerios that morning. If you really hate kids that much, why on earth do you work in a high school? Bleecch. At least it's the last year... or rather... semester of me pretending to be nice to her. I mean, sure, I could actually be nice to her, but it's really hard to be nice to someone who is crabbing all up in your face.

Let me back up here for a minute. This summer was kind of eventful. Except not really. I worked at Roy's for a while, helping the guys there fix up and clean the cars, and, admittedly, refilling the front bathroom's soap dispenser because Roy didn't want to walk back to the bathroom at the back of the shop to refill it himself. I'm just kidding, Roy, if you ever see this. After being there for a month, month and a half or so, (in all reality I have no idea as to how long I was there), I called in on a Thursday morning and said I wouldn't be back in until Monday, I was told that was fine, blah de dah, and I wrecked the Yukon that afternoon. Yay, right? Right. Just kidding, yet again. See, what happened was I was driving the Yukon down Highway 36, on my way into town, and I turned a corner and saw a truck there. Then I have no idea what happened. I guess it didn't register that it was there, or who knows what. Plus, who just stops their truck in the middle of the road, with no brake lights, turn signal, or flashers? Come on. Anywho, I hit the truck, my airbag went off, and both my little brothers were sitting in the backseat, so they were okay. The hood crumpled up into the windshield, I got a nice shower of glass that I had to pull out of my hair and out of my bag and clothes. We all were wearing our seatbelts, relax a little. Right after it happened, though, Wesley and Eddie were panicking, so I told them to get out, and they got out and were halfway down the road by the time I got out. My door was jammed almost completely shut, and it's a good thing I'm skinny. Everyone was okay, la-de-da and all that. My left arm hurt wayyy too bad to be ignoring, so Mom drove me in to the hospital later that night. The only thing we managed to get there, were flat butts from sitting in the hard plastic chairs while we waited for a doctor, and the knowledge that my left arm was NOT broken, but had a severe contusion, a jammed shoulder, elbow, and wrist, and that I would hurt for a while. It took them well over a couple hours just to tell me that. I swear they want me to break their arms, making me wait that long. Good thing I have a high pain tolerance. Then I went job hunting. And I found a job, actually. At the Little Caesar's on West Main by Baken Park. There's a fun story to tell.

Little Caesar's on West Main. First of all, I never thought I would EVER work in a fast food place. I told myself I'd rather work retail until my toes fell off and my eyes bled purple, but I ended up at Little Caesar's anyways. At first I was really quiet and kind of timid and shy around the people. You can't blame me for that one. I was one of three females at the time, and there were six males, four of which were at least half a foot taller than me or more, the other two around my height. It can be a liiittle intimidating when you first work with a group of people who are all bigger than you. But after the first day and a half or so, I bet they all wish I was still shy and quiet, because now I hardly ever shut up. It really is a great job, though. We all have fun, we all goof around, but we can all be serious too. (Well, somewhat serious...) We do dumb little things like throw a piece or two of sausage at each other, or dough shavings, or pinches of cheese or pepperoni. Or, if you're Chance, you throw whole sheetouts at unsuspecting me, because you're mean. I mean.... great... er.... person! In case you didn't know, a sheetout is the flattened, somewhat circular piece of dough that we put in a pan and put sauce and cheese and toppings on. It's basically the pizza. Admittedly, I did move the pan closer to me because I hadn't anticipated him throwing the pizza dough, so it was partially my fault. If there is one thing I am learning, it is that I can be and sometimes will be the instigator. Well... more than sometimes, sometimes. We do have a lot of fun there, though. I'm so glad I got the job. It's working well for me. I'll most likely tell a whole bunch of stories about work on here sometimes, but not right now. Sorry. I'm here to talk about school. Well, complain actually.

And complain I shall! For all of you unfortunate blogger followers out there who decide to read this. Okay, okay. Admittedly it's not as bad as it could be... yet. It's only the second day of school though. Yech. It's going to be a long semester. Just to give you a quick rundown, I am an idiot, who thought I was pretty smart. Let me explain: I saved all my slacker classes for senior year so I could work after school without a problem. The problem with that? I. Am. So. Bored. And I have multiple classes that are similar AND dull. What a great combination. On red days, I am unfortunate enough to, after band, go to one of my computer classes. The one on red days, second block, is Digital Video, with a seemingly nice teacher named Mr. Blomme, who's last name you actually pronounce as "bloom". The very first day of school, and the darned administration messed up my school login name and password, when I have two computer classes, so I cannot currently log onto the school computers. Fantastic, right? So I have homework now, because of it. Blech. Anywho, after Digital Video, I have World History. World History is, admittedly, a sophomore social studies class. No, I did not fail it the first time, I just neglected to take it the first time. I'm not a huge fan of social studies, see. My teacher for that class is Mr. Noyes, though. He seems like a happy, helpful person. I think his class will go well. Fourth block is then Weights, and my teacher is this really scary looking, incredibly buff lady named Mrs. Larson. That's a run down of red days. White days, after band, which is again, first block, I have Myth and Symbol second block, with my absolute least favorite teacher EVER, named Mr. Gibson, who's JWrit class is the only class in recorded Caitlyn History that I have ever failed, ever. It made me so mad. After Myth, I have my other social studies class, which is U.S. Goverment with Mr. Templeton, who I was told by a fellow classmate, and a student who has been in his classes before, that he does not like to give out homework, and that his class is fairly easy. I guess we'll see. And fourth block, the last block of the day, on white days, I have my other incredibly boring computer class, which is Information and Communication Technology 1 (ICT1), with a teacher that talks in a tone of voice that is about as exciting as class actually is. Which, if you couldn't tell, really not exciting at all. I may or may not have dozed off a bit at the beginning of her class. Whoops! I didn't get in trouble though, which is more than I can say for the beginning of band class yesterday, which was the first day of school. Yes, I got in trouble. During the first 15 minutes of class. Wow, am I good. Evidently, saying you know someone because they're Mormon is a good way to distract the teacher, who then loses his train of thought and therefore gets mad at you. Whoopsies. But that's all the fun I have for now, about school.

Man, I miss Michaela. Life sucks without her in half of your high school classes, goofing around with you. She's with the RM's now, bless her. Heehee.

Well, I'm out. This nerdy Pokemon freak is goooone for the night. Yes, Pokemon. I love Pokemon. No judging, you judgers! D:

Nighty-night and toodly-oo!