Hw 38

The past few years, I have completed nothing in my life. I have done many of my homework just to have more homework stacked on top of it. I have cleaned my clothes just to have them dirty again. I read a book just to finish and read another. I have eaten just to starve again. I have taken showers just to be dirty again. I have slept just to sleep again. What is the point of all this repeated process? I have walked to school just to walk back home. I have learn basics just to learn the complicated lessons. Sometimes I wonder if all of this will end...
As a great man once said, "Do not let your school get in the way of your education." Well, it is harder done then said. Everyday, I hope that this day won't be like yesterday: Kids talk loud, trying to top one another, telling each other their secrets discreetly while telling the whole school. A push and a shove here, pointless bickering, laughing, and dancing. Then everyone turns their attention to a single crowd that has manage to grab hold of everyone's leash. Fucking dogs. This certain group consist of jockeys, teasers, jokers, and loud mouths. This is what everyone idolize. They snap their finger and everyone acts as though they are familiar to them, like they know that they are kings and queens of some sort. The entire school was a drama club, nothing more then what you see in Broadway. I am a student, this is my school, and it is getting in the way of my education. Now before the accident occurred, I envy these idiots. They don't think like a pessimist and worry about the actions they take and feel like it will come back to haunt them, nor worry about what they are going to do with their lives, unlike me. No, the only thing they care about is the situation they are in now, which is "how can i be one of the cool people", or if they already one, "how can i keep my stats up?" Sounds like politics to me. Well that all changed over time.
Six days and seven hours before the accident: The "single crowd" i was referring too, everyone knew them. There was Tom and Cleveland, both on the football team. But the story isn't about them. There's Craig, who seems to joke about everything, and seems to always wear a cocky smile. But this story isn't about him. There's Jessica and Jill, cheerleaders, and very cute. But this isn't about them. This is about their leader, for every group has but one leader, and her name was Tina. Tina lives in a mansion on the far side of town, owned by both her wealthy and successful parents who were gone most of the time. So they wired her money, and hope that she can become independent just as they were. Their plans backfired when they told their butlers and maids that their daughter was in charge. Ever since then, she has told her "servants" what to do, and what they can't do. She developed dependency issues along with a bitchy attitude, and took advantage of her wired money to pretty up her body. It was depressing really, and what's more depressing is that every guy wants her, and every girl wants to be like her. Isn't life complicated? Anyways, the highlight of the day was that Tina was having a party over at her place, in six day.
Four days and seven hours before the accident: I've heard it all, boy telling other boys who they are going to bag and bang next, girl describing in detail what they are going to dress to the party. Everyone was invited, so it's no wonder why people are talking about the party as though they know exactly what's going to happen. Some people will amaze you with the kind of stuff their into. People planning to bring firecrackers, cigarettes, wine bottles, condoms. All this illegal shit under one house and whose going to rat us out? The servants? As the class leave humanities, we witness Tina's bitchy side. She pinned a kid against his locker, with all her friends surrounding him, like they were going to mob him. She apparently was angry at the fact that he gave her the wrong answers for homework. She pushed the kids so hard against the lockers you'd wonder where the teachers are. After another shove, and another shout, she left the dog whimpering. And all we did was wonder if that kid is uninvited to the party.
Two days and five hours before the accident: Last class of the day, on a Friday is usually the time of day where kids should hit by a nun wielding a ruler. Fifty minutes of laughing, taunting, disrespectful kids. Kids sitting on their desk, talking to their friends again about the party. By this time, the teacher is either sitting on their chair planning out their weekend, or in the bathroom taking a long break. There's Tina in the classroom, having other girls apply finger nail polish for her. She has that superior air around her that leaves kids feeling uncomfortable when they are too close. The bell rings and we all leave as one lucky jockey gets picked to give Tina a piggyback ride to her limo outside the school.
Twenty-two hours before the accident: I lie in bed thinking about how life is very much repeated over and over and over. It's no wonder why history repeats itself. You can only do something enough times before you screw up or give up. We do things each day that same as the day before, but for what? For the experience, the pleasure, the status, the attention? Why does a person want to be like that certain group? It seems like they have everything given to them because of who they are. They wear make ups to pretty the face they can't stand, they bully people so it's to not look weak, they scream and shout for dominance, they hang in groups so they don't look lonely or independent. Why do we worship such abomination? It's not just high school kids, but adults as well. From movie stars, to singers, etc. They're all acts so why do we envy those people?
About thirty minutes into the party: What happened was a prank that involved Tina, an expensive perfume bottle, and nitroglycerin. Apparently someone bought some of this nitroglycerin and replace what was in the perfume with it, as a prank. The perfume bottle exploded and the glass particles injured many people within a five feet radius. But the real victim was the person holding the bottle, expecting a spray of liquid dust with a familiar scent of dandelions, and not an explosion that ruptures her face scaring her for life, Tina. And, just like in Broadway, we all scream and dance frantically, each of us doing their part whether it'd be running, screaming for help, or dialing nine-one-one. We all look so nice for our parts, short hair brushed back with a blaze tuxedo with a bow tie, and formal shoes, or a long brushed down hair with a long shiny dress to match the hair with high heels. We all look so pretty for such a tragic event.
Epilogue: A month later, people started talking about Tina. The accident disfigured her face so badly the surgeons couldn't fix it. They closed up her wounds with the extra skin from her body. Now her face looks like yoda with blonde hair. When she came back, she lost her status. Her friends won't hang out with her anymore, the nerds won't help with her homework. Because she was so dependent on people, her parents quit their jobs to take care of their daughter. And i realize why we repeat things everyday for so long. To learn and experience things. We do different agendas everyday to learn different things. We read a book to help see things differently, we see things differently we learn how to appreciate things. We clean our dirty clothes because it's valuable to us. We repeat things every single day in hopes that we learn something from it. The more agenda, the more experience. The more experience, the bigger our opportunity. Take for example, the jockeys. They learn how to deal with their status and attention because that's the way they want to live. They want to be a successful athlete, they need college degrees. With college, you need some type of learning. Think the girls who pretty themselves up. They research designs, and modelings, one day they will know what to do and how to do them. They all have agendas and learn from it. Tina had nothing, and invested everything on her looks. She learns from her looks and without it, she has nothing.