I just got done watching Pump Up the Volume for, like, the twentieth time and I thought of something.

I hope to god I never forget how much high school sucked.

That sounds weird, I know. I mean, you should forget about the things that hurt you and relish in the things that made you happy. That makes for a sound mind and all that shit. Except remembering how miserable I was puts more current misery in perspective.

It could be and has been worse.

Also, should I ever find myself talking to a kid in high school who is having a horrible time, I don't want to be that pompous jerkass who says "Eh, just wait until you're older." I used to get so pissed at people (ahemMOMahem) who would say that after I poured my heart out. Like, just make me dread the sun rising even more, man.

It sounds like I had a terrible, awful, it's-a-miracle-I'm-still-breathing time, but that's not exactly true. I have very fond memories of smoking in the girl's room and cutting class. Oh, and how I never talked except every once in awhile to spout off about some political thing and people still remember that.

And then there was newspaper class and art and my most favorite teacher in the history of forever who told my best friend and me that the Jonestown people used GRAPE Flava-Aid and also explained just why it is illegal to eat human brains. Without batting an eye. I love that man. Anyway.

I'm sure if I look back at my journals, I can pull dozens of happy examples. But for every good lecture, there were three fucked-up lunch periods. High school sucked ass. A lot. It was its fetish, actually. Ass-sucking. And I don't want to forget the misery, the loneliness, the anger, the hopelessness, etfuckingcetera. And I was actually one of the lucky ones. I had my best friend and K and couple other people to commiserate with, so I wasn't a total outcast.

Oh, I don't know. I just got tired all of a sudden and may have lost the point before I got around to making it. Apologies.

Tomorrow, I will install the software for my digital camera and post my New Years Eve photo essay.

I think I may even have some pictures of guinea pigs, too.

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