Today I had the rare oppurtunity of reading that piece about the decayed turtle in front of some peers. Who would think I'd do writers' showcase? I get nervous as hell reading things in front of people, and especially when I know the people aren't complete dumbasses--there were actually some of my more artistic and intelligent buddies in the crowd. To my amazement, the piece went over well. After all the angsty poetry, a humorous little page or two of grotesquery struck the kids as hilarious, and I was told of my success for the rest of the day. God, what a good mood that put me in! I've never really sought fame too much before; only a sense of accomplishment or self-respect, and actually having other people praise me was really a different feeling.

You know, conspiracies and murder plots can interest me. I was intrigued by all the different evidence in the Kennedy assasination that Mr.Turks showed the class in history, since I know something about the way bullets expand in water/air/flesh and I know that an exit wound is supposed to be bigger than an entry wound. But creeping Christ, not for two hours of an unpleasant documentary on the stuff! I mean, besides, even if the government finds out how it all happened and why, who's it going to affect? Ultimately, the whole deal is just a waste of time and money, now that it holds no political value whatsoever.

Rob and I are going to make shirts that say, on the front, "Prompt: Write an essay about something RETARDED." and on the back, "TAKS is stupid." We'll wear them during the next tests and be the kings of wit.