It’s been a while. I gave up on the idea of a blog a while ago and I keep turning back to it. For some reason.
I haven’t really been busy. Well, summer was full, taking over my life with its waves and happiness. Cutting the story short, I was in France, I met the French, fell in love with the French ( How could one not?).
I travelled through Europe, went at gigs, had fun and met Mika!
But since summer only lasts three months I am back to my ironic self dealing with homework, not such a dramatic highschool life, the future and a big, noisy family.
And the big question….
I say lets bring back them Cooking Tuesdays.
I am having a very bad day, so bare with me for a while.
Do you ever have days when you just want to kill everyone around you, when you put all your effort to answer others’s questions, when every remark makes you want to kill yourself, when you hope that by hitting your head repeatedly against the desk will kill you, when nothing can make you smile?
Because I’ve been having those for about a week. And today my nerves have been stretched to maximum. I hate those imbeciles that don’t grade us based on our qualities, that popular girl everyone seems to be in love with, that person that is lucky and gets all good grades. I mean, the only one who has a more depressing life is the character in my book. And he was chosen to be a character, which is as good as things can get.
I want to be a fictional character. It would be much, much better. Why can’t Peter Pan come flying in my room? Why doesn’t the Doctor appear in his Tardis and take me away? Why can’t I solve cases with a high dysfunctional sociopath? Why can’t I kiss Jack Sparrow and then save him from the death? Why can’t I live in Barcelona and be one of Zafon’s characters?
I mean, not even Christmas songs can cheer me up, which is something.
Ugh, 3 more days until the End of the World. Hopefully.
This has been a most weird afternoon. With Christmas approaching and all that, my mom decided to invite all relatives. With all their small, hyperactive, screaming kids. And of course, I had to babysit. Hurray. Thanks to “Jungle Book” and “Pirates of the Caribbean” my work was much easier and I could finish The Hobbit in silence.
Occasionally I was interrupted, of course.
Firstly, I had to open the presents. A turquoise pullover, two sizes smaller ( people tend to forget that I actually do grow up while they don’t see me ) with something in its pockets ( please be money, please be money). A bracelet, which is surprisingly pretty. Then of course, some odd smelly candles which I will probably never use.
Then of course, answer all questions.
What grade are you in?
Do you have a boyfriend yet?
Oh, you play the piano? Sing us something.
How is high school?
Are you the first one in your class?
After everyone ate enough ( do you notice how relatives always seem to be getting fatter every time you see them?)
they started singing karaoke. And not any song. Andrea fucking Bocelli.
At least, the cherry pie was delicious.
It is said that highschool is the best part of our lives; that it doesn’t get any better than that. I hopefully believe they are wrong. Whoever said that had obviously never attended one. At least not one like mine. I am sure that the memories we live as highschool students are unique and worth to be cherished years after that, butI wouldn’t call it ” the best “. Why? Well, highschool is a really tough period. You deal with spoiled kids and bored teachers that are unable to entertain themselves, and therefore unable to interest the kids. Of course, the friendships you make may distress you for a little while and some even meet their first love. However these four years are difficult. The stress can sometimes get overwhelming, you go through sadness and anxiety. At least I do, sometimes. That doesn’t mean I don’t cherish highschool. I want to remember it as the sweet time when weekends were always busy, when everything was fun and easy, when I was antisocial, when I met my bestfriends, when I still had hope.