August 29, 1998

Tonight I was going to talk about my high school. Like how I'm convinced there are Nazi conspiracies going on behind closed doors, and that certain organizations have become a kind of cult. I might've added that I really don't want to go back on Tuesday, that two more months of glorious freedom would be deeply appreciated at this point. These are things you could have found out about while you read this seed of thought. But, I changed my mind. Too bad for all those readers out there who love a good educational institution bashing every once in a while, I guess.

Yesterday it was June 5th. Today it's the twenty-ninth of August. Where has the time gone? I know that answering this question could make some of us who are on the fence trying to decide whether or not I'm a nerd make them jump over to the negative side and pitch a tent. But I don't care. (Ooooo! Aren't I a rebel?)

Ok, so here I go. Most of this summer was spent sitting on my toosh in front of the computer screen I'm staring at at the moment. I actually created something, instead of just clicking around aimlessly on the Internet and typing letters to myself on how my life seems to be going. I have to say, it's quite a feeling, to know that any stranger could stumble upon my webpage, look around, and eventually know me better than most people in my real life. I love it. So, this summer I looked around my boring suburban town that sucks ambition and passion out of every teenager it gets in its evil claws, and then I laughed in its face.

I also played tennis. You may have noticed that I'm a fan of the game, because I believe I've mentioned it on another page or two. Now, I won't say it's a cool thing to do, because I have a feeling it's not. But I will say that I loved it, because I have a feeling I did. Maybe it's because real conversation wasn't required while we played, and therefore no verbal wars could erupt between friends. (Note- that's not to say we didn't fight. Tennis balls are not only meant to hit tennis rackets, we decided.) Mostly, though, I think I played because I could. This spring I could barely run up and down a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing (kinda like Katrie. Check her out in Speechless). Now, I'm running around that court (sometimes two, if someone decides to hit a bunch of wild shots to me, it happens a lot) for almost two hours straight. It's invigorating to feel healthy again. I fell a few months ago, but I pulled myself back up during these past two months. Gosh, I'm smiling just thinking about it. That's not egotistical, is it?

I threw caution to the wind and forgot about the invention of the car for a month or so. I ignored all the ducks in my life and spent quality time with the people I hold dear to my heart. I read and wrote like a madwoman, trying to keep things updated while still fitting in all the requirements for school. I took responsibility for the nurturing of two animal lives, the morning spotlessness of the front room rug, and the first mushy batch of pancakes I made every time I attempted to cook a hot breakfast for myself. According to my friends, I've perfected my "evil eye." You should see the fear I instill in some of the guys. It's enough to make me wish for an evil laugh too. I made plans for next year, in that I keep threatening to just drop out of school after my sixteenth birthday. That, or I'm decorating my friend Tony's locker with My Little Pony decorations for his sixteenth birthday. Either one's fine with me. Oh, and just because I needed yet another reason to forget about joining my high school band, I managed to sneak in the purchase of a banjo two weeks ago (look for evidence of this newest fetish in the coming weeks. I'm talking links, links, and did I mention (?) links to the best banjo site Yahoo! had to offer). Yes, now I will answer to the name of "banjo babe" if someone feels the need to give me a nickname. Who else do you know who can truthfully say that about themselves?

I could go on and on about all the wonderful things I did this summer. Not an exciting read, of course, but it's possible. I won't though, because I think I covered enough boring activities to last me until Christmas vacation. So, anyway, good-bye, Summer of 1998. It was fun, but tell '99 to move her butt and get here fast, because you just can't play tennis with a foot of snow on the ground. I might give it a try, though.