remember.

today, at school, we were supposed to remember those who fought in the war. the lives lost. the people they freed. least we forget. we had a soldier that graduated from my school speak. he went on to describe the smell of rotted, skinned children and other horrific experiences. and of course the two little gr.8 dumbasses sitting beside me were laughing through the moment of silence. I mean, that's just disrespectful, I hate the mere thought of war, but I still feel a special thing for rememberance day. all the choir songs I've sung to celebrate, the fact my grandma and her sisters were all born in camps in the interior because of stoopid racism against japanese after pearl harbor. and those kids think they're so cool for laughing at the trumpet failing a little. those people who died were real people, they had friends and families, they had dreams, they had a lot to live, but they never got the chance. they believed they were fighting for freedom, which to a point, they got. 

this isn't about my thoughts on war though. this is rememberance. and the only thing I could think of the whole time is that last year, I was holding her hand and trying to stop her tears. I wondered what she was doing while I was in that assembly. and if when she went in for hers, would she be thinking about me? I promised her I would be there for her this year, but that all changed when I got moved. I'm sorry. but it's so hard to live without her.

before I turn 17 I have to get my industrial done. it is a MUSTTTT. and then when I'm 18 I can get whatever I want XD preeeetty freaking stoked. except waiting a year for it to heal. that part is kinda suckage. but it's worth it. especially if I get rainbow balls for the barbell. 

need to get the set for the one act I'm directing to work. how the tits are we supposed to put out a tarp filled with sand onstage at intermission for 2, possibly 3 performances?? and then we can't see the markings for placing our set pieces. oh, and we haven't even asked mr.bone to help paint the panels in a beachy way. so basically we're screwed. and this is after we had to replace one of our girls, my co-director gets all the credit and doesn't let me know what's going on, and he changes the blocking from what I spent a good two classes figuring out. this is shitty. can't wait for the one I'm writing. well, not that I've strted writing, just gathering ideas in my head. there were bits that just came to me. 

groceries is now slang for small child.