In AP English class, with Ms. Rage, I mean, Cage, I mean-
Let me start over.
Her name is similar to Rage and Cage, it rhymes. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point I’m trying to make is that she makes us write these journals, yeah? And they’re all rather silly, maybe even pointless topics:
- “What are five things y’wanna do before yo’ next birthday?”
- “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”
- “What’s your favourite flavour of smelling salt?”
Okay, that one wasn’t an actual question. But the last one was pet peeves, and I think I scribbled out the most fragmented and awkward journal entry yet. It was very weird, probably as weird (if not more more peculiar than) the journal where I wrote about how I babysat a kid…
(that’s a different story, which I’ll go ahead and blab: I babysat a kid over the weekend, and he was playing Scrabble with me. And he spelled out words like “death” and “strangle.” He beat me. Then he went to the railing and stuck his head in it and screamed. He got stuck, so I soaped and buttered him up and popped him right out. Then he streaked naked through the house after I put him to bed. I got paid a lot)
(that never happened. Pretty sure I based the railing thing off an episode of Full House. Stupid DJ, you’re such a bad babysitter, and you have a boy’s name)
Here’s the Pet Peeves journal:
by Thomas Church (title conveniently takes up a third of the page)
“I hate soap. I really hate soap. The feeling and texture of barsoap between my fingers makes my skin crawl and my stomach churn. The grates of knives and the squeals of small children (I will, from this point on, put an NT abbreviation for “Not True” after the ones that are pretty blatant lies; NT) also make me squirm.
“When I look at the television, if the volume doesn’t end in a 0, 3, 5, or 7, then I have to change/adjust it. I sometimes press the volume button to make sure it’s on my numbers. It’s maybe obsessive-compulsive, but he(ck) I don’t care. I wash my hands often, and I’m moderately germaphobic, in some cases. I don’t feel comfortable shaking an overly-warm hand (NT). I spit my gum in trash cans without bags in them (NT) and twirl my hair too much. Sometimes, I eat two pickles; I either eat two or none (NT). I eat my food in groups and I lay down on the left side of my bed on my stomach. I brush my teeth molars-to-front (NT) and don’t often clean my glasses. I also hate people who kick your chairs in movies.
As you can see, my essay was the most well-thought-out and logical essays in the entire class, appealing to one’s-
No, it was not.
However, there are very few people who seem to take these “essays” (more like pointless little mindjots, really, I use them as substitute blogposts when I’m bogged down with schoolwork) very seriously. They’re kind of fun- I’ll be sure to share them as time goes on and all.
… so… oh, right, I umm, I have this disease where my eyes can (but are not predicted to) spontaneously catch fire.
aestheism, not atheism