We’re silly fools
with our petty fights
We have petty dreams
and sleepless nights
We lie awake
and think up things
New lives and loves
of queens and kings
We dream and wish
of things above
And get lost in
what never was
The years, they pass
the time grows thin
Our lives have flown
and we don’t know when
We spent true time
thinking up a throne:
That our own has fallen?
how we should have known
I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’m at a loss for words at this point. Always tryin’ to keep up with everyone else just gets so tiring now and I’m just sick and tired of everything. I don’t care about them anymore since it seems that they don’t really care about me. I’m not sure how much it really matters.
I try to channel the belief of the Honey Badger. The belief that nothing affects me is a lot to take. It’s a huge responsibility.
I’m up to it. I want to not care anymore. But not caring is different than being ignorant. It’s just what I do. It’s me.
I want to be able to persevere through anything that may stand in my way. Any obstacle must become invisible. Nothing can stop me. Yet, emotion always seems to drive me backwards. I don’t understand the struggle of keeping momentum going.
It sucks to lose people because of who you are. It’s inevitable but it sucks. My mentality suits me. It doesn’t always suit those around me. Unfortunately, I can’t change what I know to be me.
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For those of you who go to the Ojai Valley School, you will have heard of Mr. Alvarez. For those of you don’t, Fred Alvarez is the Humanities, A.P. World History, World History, and Journalism teacher.
The double faced mug sitting on the bookshelf in the corner of his classroom, printed with both “Mr. Muffin” and “Mr. Evil,” says it all. Mr. Alvarez’s classes are among the hardest.
Last year, I was in the Freshman Humanities class. He tortured us, assigning a reading journal almost every night. Extra Credit was rare, and when it did come along, it was in the form of fishing or writing a song.
Humanities is that class you talk about, complain about, go to sleep thinking about, and secretly love.
A.P. World History is very similar. At the beginning of the year, Mr. Alvarez warned us of the insurmountable amounts of reading we would have as homework.
He was not kidding.
The majority of class stopped reading after Chapter 4. We are now on Chapter 12. Every Wednesday is “Essay Day”, where we assigned a prompt and given a little over an hour to complete an essay, which will then be picked apart, criticized, and graded by the class. Public humiliation at it’s finest.
Despite the ridiculous amounts of reading and essay writing, I learn the most from those classes. I walk in the door excited about the next 45 minutes, and I have fun. A.P. World History challenges me to do the best I can.
Hello folks, I haven’t talked to you in a bit.
I hopped on WordPress to see what was going on and to see what people have been saying on here only to find that the blog was snowing.
There are little white dots sprinkling down on the homepage banner and down through the blogs and pictures.
If it is just mine I will be a little bit worried, but I swear the blog is snowing.
HO! HO! HO!
Music is an old friend for me.
A friend whom I can talk whatever to.
A friend who helps me heal the wounds.
I started playing piano when I was five.
Yes. I fell in love with it at the moment I met it.
And when I heard the voice for the first time, I felt that I would die for it.
I dreamed there would be one day,
one day that my fingers could dance with the keys.
That was the purple touch.
I touched them with curiosity but also fear.
Then I began to know it.
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