Wake up, off to school, but actually get to have breakfast while the car is warming up. Inconceivable! Listen to M. Ward on the way in, but I make it a block from my house before noticing this girl. I put the car in reverse and ask her if she was going to the high school. She says yes. The time is about 7:10, 10 minutes after the bus arrives. She says yes and hops in. I understand if it was a bit creepy, but I introduce myself, and we start talking. She says she's new and moved from North Providence. We talk about the senior project and how she wants to do something with teenage mothers. She mentions, very nonchalantly that she is adopted, which surprised me. Turned out her dad plays bass in a blues band.

School is just sucking the life out of me more and more, it's ridiculous. Today just pushed me over the edge. In Civics we were made to read J. Saunders Redding's "Being a Negro in America". A beautiful, fluid and well-written essay about the struggles of the civil rights movement and the history of one of it's supporters. And we were to interpret it into IM speak. I am not fucking kidding. It was single-handedly the worst assignment I have ever had to do in my educational career. No amount of busy work could have amounted to this. This beautiful example of text in the english language was to be stripped away, watered down, and given the syntax that the ignorant use for day to day life. I have not used "IM" speak since I was 12 years old, and even then, one day I said to myself "...This is completely stupid." I have typed text messages, IM, emails and almost everything else in the proper format of the English language as close as I can. I'm not a perfect writer, but damn it I bet I can write better than some of the students in my own grade. I could just not believe that the social studies faculty approved this to be a proper lesson.

After that, I tried to regain some composure in my mind, and managed to see some natural light, which was marvelous. I gave Bill and Cameron rides home, and popped in the new Neptune album for Bill. He seemed impressed, but I can never tell with him.

Home, dicking around on the net, more PMJ binging. Maybe this will stop one day? Maybe not. Homework, call Mike Karikas in a hope to meet him with the composition...

I feel like I'll go to bed early...