the life of a tomato. (an over-ripe one at that)

Well, I suppose I should write, as if I don’t and Sean checks, he’ll inundate my diary with notes saying “There MUST be something wrong! You’re not writing!” And we can’t have that, now can we? (just say no)

Band was hell today. ALKJABLKJ BLEH. Meh. Yucko… I was so disgusting. You get to a certain point in band life, where you just can’t sweat any more. And yet you keep on sweating, as you keep playing the same freaking song between cadences… and march around the same freaking island in the middle of the parking lot. With very little water. And no room for error. Oh, wait, maybe if the FLAGETTES took a bigger step, we wouldn’t have our calves cramping up on us and WOULD have a little room. Imagine that.

It get’s better though. For a second, (or a few minutes… or an hour…) Nolan hated my guts. *ouch* We have it under control now. I have a tendency to get, well, really bitchy during marching, and Nolan has tendency to, well, lose his cool really easily. But we talked through it, and we’ve agreed to try and get better at these things. He really is a good kid… I enjoy talking to him and working with him, so it’s important that we keep our relationship on non-enemy terms. Yes.

At 1 or so, the squad leaders (or some of them) went to the pool with Daddy V. Ahh, it was so much fun… despite the fact that half of them think we’re crazy. I don’t care, I really don’t. I love my sisters, I love our distant relatives (Becky, Ashley, Laura… Conniemarie… those people)… so it’s ok. (YEAH Tubas, haha.) Regard un peu, aussi. The bad news? I’m a ripened tomato. Kim and I reapplied sunscreen 5 times and I’m still burnt. Crazy. *lathers on the aloe vera* My mom has started yelling at me that I cannot be burnt for senior pictures, and that I MUST wear a hat to marching band. Over my dead body. Bah.

Ron and I were have communication problems online. It was funny. But not. Massive miscommunication! Hah… but that’s ok.

*so much to write, so little to be written* You know?

*bangs head against keyboard*

I wish I were a hand. I’m not telling you whose or when or why. But not now.

Do you think I need to make up with Andy? I mean, I’d like nothing better than to never talk to him again, but I don’t believe that’s fair. Emma had a good point though… we were GOOD friends for 2 years, whether I’m glad we were or not. That should count for something, shouldn’t it? Although he did hurt me quite a few times within those 2 years… But then again, the kid wanted to go OUT with me? I think it’s a little much to say we’re never going to go out ever AND after 2 years I’m going to stop being your friend. I think that’s a little overboard. I don’t know… luckily he hasn’t been online to force me to decide such things yet.

Grr to someone else online. *can’t handle this* Not at all. BAH. Aiye.

Well, I’m being

~swept away in sun-burnedness (and yes, pronounce the “ed” in that, please)~

@~>~>-dreamergrrl

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