Anti-Shell Matter

( The numbers say none of you can ever call me an insensitive/forgetful/jerk-off friend again. Ever. )

SATs went pretty well. Math didn't go as well as I had anticipated, and US History, which I ended up taking as my third, was a bad idea since I was asked several 'identity' questions on acts I just flat-out don't remember. I should have done literature instead, though I try to steer clear of the subjective subjects as much as possible on standardized tests. Chemistry was cake; 90 questions in 40 minutes, no problem. I owe Mr. Brandt a retroactive cupcake or something for being such a relentless slavedriver a good teacher.

I rented Hannibal and the first disc of season one of House, M.D. on the way home, the latter being because keichisfuuma said Dr. House has all of my faults, amplified, and I must admit that I am curious as to what she means by that.

Past three hours went into photographing Mom's new products, since she (rightfully) doesn't want to spend upward of a thousand dollars to get them photographed professionally. My father drives me absolutely insane sometimes; by the end of the duration, I wanted to kill him. He's dictatorial and autocratic and he thinks he's right about everything, and that everybody else needs to have the most elementary things explained to him or her several times.

I hope to goodness I'm not his clone like my mother keeps saying I am, because I couldn't see how anybody could stand me if I was.

xcerebraledemax just came over to get her coat, and we had torrid, passionate sex a good talk while I polished the dirt and grime from the rocket project out of my boots. This is making me realize that when college comes around, I will probably be going elsewhere from my close friends, and I do not like the idea of that. I've finally found friends I truly never want to lose; the idea of being hundreds of miles away, unable to just drive over and lay on somebody's floor and talk with L'arc~en~Ciel playing in the background, is melancholy. There's always the internet, but I like being able to talk to people, look into their eyes and be in the same room, read their body language and feel their mental states. The phone is the intermediary step between Real Life and t3h internets, but truth to be told, I hate the phone. I don't know why.

But every high school senior goes through this, and it is not the first or the last time I will go through an uprooting.

I guess this was precipitated by the conversations I had at Chelsea's party regarding college and everybody splitting up soon. That party was a wild time, by the way. The food and company were excellent, and I finally saw Dr. Strangelove, though I was half-falling asleep through the movie and missing key lines of dialogue. I spent most of the time talking to Ben, Michael, Chelsea, and Troy, which was pleasant.

Note to self: next time, remember to take a pair of freaking pants.

( Dream sequence. )

I've got mucho work to do today. I don't know if I should take the SAT II for English or Chemistry, and I need to start applying for the essay scholarships. I've decided those are they way to go. I've got a hand for writing, and some of them are offering hefty prizes. Most of them are short, too: less than 500 words, on average. Economy of expression becomes crucial, but it also means less work, in a sense. I just have to say exactly what I want to say without a lot of foreplay and digression.