10/13/03

My coffee tastes like ass this morning. It tastes like old soggy coffee grounds. I swear, our cafeteria full of retards. I don’t know why I even bother going down there. I could go out on the plaza outside and get a nice mocha or something with whipped cream. But instead I choose to take the risk every morning of getting old ass tasting coffee, blech. *sigh* So here my sleepy ass sits, coffeeless. I’d go downstairs and complain, but that takes effort, and as close as it is to 8 it’ll be much busier down there now. I should just start making my own. I’ll need something to bring it to work in though because I don’t have time to sit around drinking it in the morning until I get to work.

There was a dead mouse in the hallway this morning at home. Right in front of Sophie’s kitten room. We lock her out of the kitten room at night so our guess is that she caught the mouse in the middle of the night and left it by the door for her kittens. In the wild, that’s what a mother cat would do, she’d catch prey and bring it back for her kittens. I had opened the kitten-room door to let them out. Then I went back into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth I noticed the kittens hadn’t come very far away from their room, normally they run over to the stairs and to the tree to play. I went out into the hall to investigate and they were all gathered around staring at this dead mouse. I grabbed them all up, put them in their room, and shut the door. Then I went into the bathroom and informed hubby that there was a dead mouse in the hallway. After his shower he took care of it and I let the kittens back out. It was sad to see the little dead mouse. I really wish they’d just stay in the basement or out in the barn, honestly, I don’t mind mice, I think they’re cute. I know they’re disease carrying little rodents but that’s their business. I will kill the one’s that take up residence in my cabinets because that’s just gross and they poo everywhere but if they’d stay in the basement, away from the D-Con and cats we’d be able to live peacefully. I hate having to kill anything, even spiders, as much as I hate them. I believe everything has a right to live. But, if something comes into my house sometimes I have to kill it. We do trap and release a lot of critters instead of killing them but sometimes you do just have to kill, especially if that particular critter won’t STAY out or if it endangers us or one of the pets.

I ran across some old school essays last night. I was doing some cleaning out of my files. I kept all the essays and stuff that I found. I didn’t realize how much I improved from my Junior year to my Senior year. In one short year I went from writing crap, to writing some pretty decent persuasive papers. I got a lot of A’s in English, even my Junior year, my teacher seemed to love my writing. I didn’t like my Junior english teacher though, she was kind of a bitch. My Senior English teacher was awesome though. That’s probably why I did so well in her class. I had a tendency to thrive and do well in classes with teachers I liked, I did horribly in classes with teachers I disliked. My Senior government teacher, for example. I hated him, he made me feel horrible about myself, I barely passed his class. I had also been doing extremely well in Math until I got a shitty algebra teacher. He wasn’t someone I felt comfortable going to for help. My Pre-Algebra teacher was awesome, and as a result I was making over a 100% in her class due to extra credit assignments and I was even tutoring other students. Moving on to algebra should have been a breeze, but instead, I barely passed it. I almost wrote my Senior Government teacher a letter after graduation, actually, I did write it, I just didn’t mail it. He was a horrible teacher. I dreaded going to his class. All he ever did was pick on the weaker students in the class. I did well in his class at first, but the longer the class went on the less I cared, halfway through the semester I’d quit reading the assignments and started writing bullshit like “why does anyone care” on the essay parts of the exam and guessing on the rest. I’m pretty sure I failed his final exam, but I still managed to pass the class. That was the only class I ever did that poorly in, he was also the worst teacher I’d ever had. Actually, I did have one teacher that was worse than this guy, my 9th grade physics teacher. A ton of people ended up transferring out of his class, I was one of them. He was a complete prick, so bad that when I went and told my dad about him, and that the school refused to let me transfer out, my dad actually went up to the school and demanded they move me out of that class. I don’t even remember what was so horrible about him anymore. I just remember he was an asshole. I liked most of my teachers, I can only remember three that I totally hated, not bad. My Senior english teacher stands out as one of the best, same as my Freshman Pre-Algebra teacher. I took an Inventions course my Senior year too, as an elective, and that teacher was a pretty alright teacher. I always loved my band teachers. Band directors are quirky, they all stand out, lol. There was one we had in 7th grade, Mr. Taylor. He was a pain in the ass, kind of mean and was forever throwing his little stick out of anger, of course when a band director throws his little stick it always nails a flute player. Everyone hated him, I thought he was awesome.

Anyway, enough about old school teachers.

I’m not feeling all that great. I actually almost stayed home this morning. I woke up at 4am and couldn’t breath through my nose at all. I ended up using some nose drops. Hopefully I won’t get sick right before the trip. Last time I felt ill the day we left, that’s just how my luck goes. Anyway, I’m having a hell of a time pulling my thoughts together. I really miss my coffee *sigh* I’m going to close and I hope that at least some of this entry made sence.

Log in to write a note
October 13, 2003

I went to Band Camp in high school and there was a MEAN band director there. She looked like an army drill sergeant and she was always slamming her batons onto the stands. She must’ve broken about 50 of ’em in the week I was there.