No Title Given
I felt like crap for the majority of the day. Sneezing and a coughing and a massive head ache that spanned across my entire forehead. I took the test in Algebra, and I'm pretty sure my health condition had a big effect on my condition. Because I skipped school yesterday (actually did feel bad... But only for about 10 minutes when I woke up that morning. I rationalized that my day was shot from there.) I did not get a nice review of what would be on the test, and how to do the problems. I looked over my notes, but there were things that I had not spent time looking at on the test. And piece by piece, I made up a procedure to complete the problem. Hopefully the bullshit I pumped out was correct. If it is, then that only proves that I have the ability of remembering and applying what I've learned. Something I don't really remember being able to do. But I guess it doesn't matter if I missed more than 5... With 33 questions, and 15 points extra credit, I could miss around 5 and still get a 100. Not bad.
Despite my shitty feeling I went into town with my mother today. We got PizzaHut pizza and also went to Wall-Mart for a few things. Since my parent's Ward's card has now turned into a Wall-Mart card, they completely went crazy with buying pants and what not. I bought a couple of things. I conned my mother into purchasing 3 CD's, we got my shampoo (that she complains about how often we buy. She doesn't seem to understand that my shit load of hair is a big factor as to why I need to buy so much.), and we also got some hair dye. It's a light red color. My hair is not really red, but I want it to be. My hair has a lot of ash color in it, and under florescent lighting, my hair looks green. And I hate that. So I'm going to dye it orange. There's a solution for every problem...
I finally told my mother the exact date that I lost my virginity. She knew it happened during the first week that Alan was visiting, but she did not know it was the first night. She was understanding about it, because she could tell I was ashamed of it, and she got a better understanding of how much of a problem pressure and sex were between me and Alan. My mother could relate to my experience, which is why she couldn't really freak out about it. I was glad she didn't. I was glad we could just talk like, well, women about it. That's a stereotypical thing to say. But I'm starting to like how I'm understanding those cliche things more and more. I just wish I didn't feel so dumb for saying something that has been said so much that is has that stale used-to effect on people. Worn out words have lost their meaning, and there are no other words that give the situation justice... Blah. I'm typing just to type now.
Stephen got the real information about the plan that was for prom, and his source of information had everything all mixed up. The wanted one of Stephen's friends to go to prom with a certain girl as a pity date because her dad just died. That's just horrible. But, to me, it meant that Stephen was free to ask out, and I did. He can cancel on me if he likes. I sensed some hesitation when I asked him... he might have wanted to go with Emily. Who knows.
I'm debating on whether I want to miss school tomorrow. I do feel really crappy. I am only typing this because I am listening to one of the new CD's and have nothing better to do than write... It's weird how the internet has lost a lot of it's flair. At least the line of work I am going into could mean I could be making advertisement posters and shit like that... The internet is just to needy, and time consuming.
I'm no longer depressed about Alan. I've accepted the fact that it was a another mistake to chalk up on my list. The whole two years of it - almost 3. That equals 7 years of my short 18 that were spent enduring unneeded stress and pain. Its lack of worth is based on the fact that it was not a fruitful journey for me. I did not come out of the experience learning anything about myself that I did not already know. I only carry more emotional baggage now, which is nothing that deserves a thank you or even the privilege of recognition. Regret is a horrible thing to lable such a supposed important experience with someone... But it is not worth anything to me anymore. And I am sorry and disappointed with myself that it ever did.
... And I have no desire to talk about that again.