How was I to know my teacher had prepared us for this…..I had been bothered by thoughts of it all week.  It was only seven short answer essay questions….and I thought, “Oh lord. I’ll never be able to do this. I have no knowledge. Why…I’m clueless!”

But soon the words came to me….and I was answering the questions as if I was speaking to the paper. So much writing….so many long “paragraphs”. These were heavy questions, such as how being “equal” in the farm changed at the end of the novel or in what forms did totalitarianism take over the farm….or how Boxer’s experiences were akin to a being living under the totalitarian rule. I called Napoleon a blasted imbecile at one point last week in an essay. So, this was why my teacher had been making us write essays every day. He was preparing us. What a dear! I was already prepared then!

My answers were as long as six pages, if you count the front and back….and with my messy cursive. I can’t abandon my cursive habit. In Peru, it was mandatory to write with it or you would’ve gotten your notebook page ripped off otherwise. I was so fervently content when I finished the test (I almost kissed it) and the elation didn’t take long to take over my being. Why, I felt like just twirling! I pray to Touko Laaksonen that I pass. My teacher must know how important Animal Farm is to me.

During lunch, I went to the empty big classroom where I always eat and I dashed to my teacher’s (who was absent at that hour) computer and played some Zappa. AHhh! I had done it! There was black ink smudged on the edge of my pinky. Just like after I finish writing my detailed diary entries…..Ahh…..I also discussed the fact that Napoleon was narcissistic and the reason why he behaved like a dick was maybe because he had low self-confidence and maybe felt the need to be worshiped or respected, as he couldn’t do so with himself.

I was jamming to my Zappa and smiling….and celebrating….Even a lad asked about my music taste and I spoke of my Zappa fondly…..and then lunch was nearly over…..when my teacher entered the room again.

The Frank Zappa radio station in Pandora has a lot of blues artists, as he was majorly influenced by that genre as a teenager in the 50s, besides his beloved Varese.

“Oh, no.” said my teacher. The music wasn’t even obscene. What, like the awful rap contemporary music he plays isn’t loaded with obscenities???

Well, that upset me for some minutes. I’m serious.

Then he changed it to “Smooth Criminal” by Michael Jackson as he said, “WHOO!”

Okay, I like Michael….but one should never change Frank Zappa to fucking Michael Jackson!!!! Doesn’t he like a little variety????

Then soon there was the same brat who’s probably two years younger than me blabbering loudly…and profanely…..Look, I can stand profanity but these kids say the “N” word like it’s the oxygen they need to inhale. The brat was yelling. He was blathering about some stupid fight that had occurred during lunchtime. His tone was aggressive and abrupt. I shushed him. Nothing happened.

The teacher’s tone grew louder and I began to feel tense. Whenever I am happy, it is very easy to get irritated with anything. This had been bothering me for a few weeks, as the teacher had yelled at the students while even saying the word “fucking” maybe 5 times in his speech. Why lower down to their level??? If you’re a teacher, you’re supposed to set a good example for these brats and not bellow like a blasted drunkard!

And the kid didn’t shut up and then I told him to shut up because he was getting on my nerves.

He ignored and continued to “talk” to the teacher loudly.

“I’m out of here.” I whispered as I gathered my things and walked away.

“Where are you going honey?” my caring female teacher asked.

“To the counseling office. I don’t like it here.”

And off I was just walking around campus. I almost screamed at that little bastard’s face.

I just quit taking Zoloft last week. Maybe that’s why. Or maybe I am frustrated with my school’s idiotic students.

Last month some lad had been loudly (yes, loudly!) bragging to his friends about how he “fucked” an eighth grade girl who had lied about being fifteen.

Fucking hell! Why scream out your sexual experiences for all of us to hear??? You wish to take advantage of a teenage girl, that’s your business. But you don’t have to declare it as a sign of pride. That offended me. I am fucking sensitive. And sadly cannot stand anyone around me these days.

That’s not all. I’ve decided to dress in my style again (I stopped because of my sadness) and all twats have been gluing their eyes on me and giving me that look as if they were thinking, “Who the hell do you think you are to be prancing like this on campus??” And they are all swarming about me! Oh, how I dread walking to the cafeteria to obtain my lunch!

Even the staff gets on my nerves. I wore a precious green spaghetti strap dress I bought in a beach last year and it came from Nepal. It received some giggles as I walked around my classroom. I am so silent and I walk with my head up and people think me self-absorbed and vain!!! Blasted twats.

SO I wore that dress all day and even one of the campus guards told me I dressed well and looked good. Yet, by the end of the day, I was sitting outside waiting for my mother to pick me up, and the same woman who reprimanded me the week before told me I was violating the school dress code. She said in this bad tone. She asked me if I had a jacket and I said I didn’t. It was almost ninety degrees and we live in fucking California! I wore that dress all day and nobody told me a thing.

The week before that wench made a big deal about my beanie. She had come to my classroom to usher me to this room where I was to take a test and she saw me walking and she appeared displeased and looked at me up and down. Then she said that my beanie had to be a full color. Well, it was black! And she said it was silver. It only had three blasted sparkles! I said that to her and she said, “It’s the rules. I’m not gonna argue with you.” Okay. I put it back on as soon as she left.

But today just did it for me. In the counseling office, the secretary looked at me with this look as if she appeared displeased with how I was dressing, as I had worn a rather formal dress. I sat down and was nearly shaking. My mind was racing again. I was irritable. So then my mother phoned me and I talked to her for at least ten minutes. When the call ended, the secretary came, still with her displeased look, and said, “Honey you can’t talk on the phone here.”

Oh, I’m sorry. Why couldn’t you just tell me that at the beginning instead of worsening my mood??

Maybe I should homeschool Senior year. I did so as a Sophomore and it drove me to depression, claustrophobia and at times madness. I just know I can’t keep getting into these moods thanks to my intolerance for people. At least I haven’t cried. Yet.

The reason why I’ve even been attending school was because I love my English class. Otherwise, I can’t stand the students who pretend to be rappers or girls who are horribly disrespectful to their teachers. I always have this problem anyplace I go….I have an inborn aversion to humans.

The secretary in the attendance office even asked me where I had gone during my absences. So, she was implying I had been skipping class. I know these stupid American tones some women have when they desire to prove what they think. I am…..so so glad I was not raised in America all my life…….and so glad I am not living here in the future. They were assigning me something called “Saturday School”. And if I skipped it I would be suspended. Okay, so I’ve been worked hard as hell to raise my grades up and this is what I get. Have I no right to be at home when I am depressed and am not in the mood to tolerate twats? Oh my lord. I only have two weeks left. After that it’s the Silent Film Festival in San Francisco and I will swoon when I see Ramon Novarro semi-nude in Ben-Hur and Garbo kiss the hell out of John Gilbert in Flesh and the Devil. Oh, the music!!! And that scene where they meet each other in the party! And when they go to the garden!!!

Flesh and the Devil (1926

So, I’ll be off to watch Gilmore Girls and play with my lesbian couple in The Sims 2.