Spaces between paragraphs...
Nov. 20th, 2002 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenAh... death to all teenboppers!
Sounds like such a ridiculous thing to say, but there seem to be a disproportionate amount of morons round here. Anyway.... once again, the problem was the people I ride the bus with. While I'm on the subject, I don't think I want to get the bus any more. Quite apart from the general moronics, I always have a niggling feeling I'm too old to get a school bus home. I can do GCSEs, I can naviagate the public transport system.
As I was saying... Stephanie Kershaw, loud, obnoxious, and boring to know - I think I once said to her, in all seriousness, "How do you talk so much and say so little?" - wanted to borrow my CD player, to listen to the kind of music I listen to. She listened to it - it was Something Corporate's Punk Rock Princess, not Nirvana - and gave me a look. "It's not headbangy!"
I was holding a lollipop in my mouth at that moment. I took it out and sucked it slowly - but like so many of my comments and gestures, it was lost on them. They're so, so ignorant... I think someone asked "Were they the ones supporting Westlife?"
I bit back the sarcasm, and said reasonably, "No, they're currently supporting New Found Glory," thinking that yes, here is a band they'll have heard of.
But no. I gave up, stuck the lollipop back into my mouth and listened to Globes and Maps.
Of course, I promptly told Pedar all of this when he picked me up. "But you're different from them," he said. "You're not part of the in-crowd, are you?"
I gave him a do-you-know-me-but-at-all look.
"You see," he said. "Not everyone listens to rock music like you do. You're different."
I asked him if I was to be defined by the type of music I listen to.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Fifteen," I said.
"Then yes."
I'm sure that made sense to him. But he always says, my life will apparently get less and less complicated as I grow up. Which is again something I'm sure made sense to him.
But no. I am in a reasonably good mood. My French teacher didn't turn up this afternoon - I spent the time doing my maths coursework, which gets rid of a large portion of stuff I planned to do tonight. It'll probably be Chemistry and English Lit.
Why do I regale the world with the story of my life, again?
Sounds like such a ridiculous thing to say, but there seem to be a disproportionate amount of morons round here. Anyway.... once again, the problem was the people I ride the bus with. While I'm on the subject, I don't think I want to get the bus any more. Quite apart from the general moronics, I always have a niggling feeling I'm too old to get a school bus home. I can do GCSEs, I can naviagate the public transport system.
As I was saying... Stephanie Kershaw, loud, obnoxious, and boring to know - I think I once said to her, in all seriousness, "How do you talk so much and say so little?" - wanted to borrow my CD player, to listen to the kind of music I listen to. She listened to it - it was Something Corporate's Punk Rock Princess, not Nirvana - and gave me a look. "It's not headbangy!"
I was holding a lollipop in my mouth at that moment. I took it out and sucked it slowly - but like so many of my comments and gestures, it was lost on them. They're so, so ignorant... I think someone asked "Were they the ones supporting Westlife?"
I bit back the sarcasm, and said reasonably, "No, they're currently supporting New Found Glory," thinking that yes, here is a band they'll have heard of.
But no. I gave up, stuck the lollipop back into my mouth and listened to Globes and Maps.
Of course, I promptly told Pedar all of this when he picked me up. "But you're different from them," he said. "You're not part of the in-crowd, are you?"
I gave him a do-you-know-me-but-at-all look.
"You see," he said. "Not everyone listens to rock music like you do. You're different."
I asked him if I was to be defined by the type of music I listen to.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Fifteen," I said.
"Then yes."
I'm sure that made sense to him. But he always says, my life will apparently get less and less complicated as I grow up. Which is again something I'm sure made sense to him.
But no. I am in a reasonably good mood. My French teacher didn't turn up this afternoon - I spent the time doing my maths coursework, which gets rid of a large portion of stuff I planned to do tonight. It'll probably be Chemistry and English Lit.
Why do I regale the world with the story of my life, again?
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no subject
on 2002-11-20 09:57 am (UTC)is it just me or does that contradict itself?
dear me iona. you're gramatical superiority is failing you.
no subject
on 2002-11-20 10:08 am (UTC)That's "your grammatical superiority." I refer you to
Haven't you ever had your hands full but with a lollipop in your mouth? The first thing you tend to do when your hands are free again is take the lollipop out of your mouth and put it back in again(!)
Or, perhaps, that is a me thing.
no subject
on 2002-11-20 10:15 am (UTC)and now i crave a lollipop. damn you damn you to hell!
or something
*shrugs*