I'm the most boring individual you will ever have the mispleasure to meet. I can promise you that. And if you spell my name wrong, babies will be punched. I just missed 11:11. God damn it all.
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Illness I
 I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Honestly? I've been ill too often this year. I almost hit my ten-absences mark. It's only a matter of days until I get a letter from the state threatening to fine my family because I wasn't in school.
This sucks. I was supposed to take this math test today that I studied like... all night for. And I can't even take it until next week. Dammit, why does this always happen to me?
I'm convinced that I just carry around bad luck. Like I'm its fuel pump. I'm its photosystem I. (We're learning about photosynthesis in Biology. Yeah, I'm bored, too.) And I just carry my little bad luck molecules on my back as I live through my day. And sometimes, they fight back. They go, "Hey, Meghan's having a decent day, let's make it hell!" and there you go. Well, that's my theory, anyway.
On a completely different note, I think I'll just talk about my classes as an alternative to going to school.
First period I have French I with Mrs. Burke. Sorry; Madame Burke. It's my smallest class of the day, with only... twelve people, is it? Dunno. However, I've always loved small classes. I had my first experience with one in seventh grade with Mrs. Bara's first period English class. There was about 15 of us, and we were all thrown in there because we didn't do chorus, orchestra, or band, yet we were in honors. That shows a lot, doesn't it? Anyway, I grew close to quite a few people in that class, and it will probably forever be my favorite class.
Back on topic: French is full of morons. Seriously. Okay, well. Maybe not morons, per se. But something close to it. They're ignorant. And they think it's damn cool to waltz in and pretend not to care. I hate people like that, I'll tell you that right now. There's this one kid who annoys the hell out of me (and basically everyone else), one who I'm scared about entering society, another who I'm actually okay with, and one who is half-asleep nearly the whole entire time. I feel so superior in this class. Sure, I may have a C- (I blame... actually, I think I can only blame myself for that. DAMN) but I know what I'm doing. And I think that's all you need to know about French.
Then I have Honors Biology with Miss Lee. She's a new teacher, so she seems pretty scared about losing her position of power. Honestly, who wouldn't be when you're entering my school? She probably believes that all of her students will backfire and go insane on her; you know, tie her to a chair, taunt her by deleting every last file in her folder, set the room on fire, et cetera. I don't know, she acts like she's above all. I don't blame her; my peers force her into that position of faux anarchy by being a group of unruly twits.
The students aren't all that bad. A couple of them are obnoxious, and a few of them I flat out dislike. Then again, my best friend is in this class, so it isn't all that bad. And, for the record, I've hated sciences of any type since sixth grade, so don't expect any positive reviews about this class in the future. Nothing personal.
My favourite class this year would have to be Honors American History with Mr. Shaffer. He's been here since... forever. My uncle had him. My uncle's best friend had him. (I won't use 'girlfriend' considering that they aren't going out anymore.) My uncle's best friend's family had him. Yeah, he's practically carved into the school's rusty, old, 34-year-old skeleton.
Mr. Shaffer is probably the most calm and collected teacher I've ever had. Everyone complains about his class being 'boring' or whatever. I don't. It's probably because I've had an interest in any type of history since last year with Mr. Pope. He sort of opened my eyes to how epic the world can be. Although Mr. Shaffer is nothing compared to Mr. Pope (everyone agrees with me when I say  that Mr. Pope would own Mr. Shaffer in a second's time) he's still pretty interesting, and he isn't boring. God people.
My class is okay. No complaints here.
Geometry with Mrs. McDaniels. I. Hate. This. Class.
I'll flat out say that I despise... let's go with 98% of this class. Words cannot describe my hatred for the students that inhabit classroom D6 during fourth period. I want to strangle them. And the teacher, too. She is probably the most dry, vain individual I have ever had the displeasure to meet. Well, those are the feelings that I get from her. She looks at me with that smug face that's practically screaming, "I'm better than you, you're below my standards of power, and you're late every day. Therefore you must be a goddamn hellion."
Because I'm a stubborn person whose only drive is to piss off Mrs. McDaniels, I arrive about three minutes late to class every day. I can't help it, though. I carry around an Andy Warhol Campbell's Soup Can bag around with me every day and it's rather large. About the size of my torso. And well, you know. All kids carry around deadly weapons in their bags these days. Naturally, being a teacher, Mrs. McDaniels brought this up and asked me to not carry it around anymore. I replied with a haughty, "umokay" which really meant, "hell no, do you want my arms to snap off like pretzels?" So, I basically go from Mr. Shaffer's class, allllll the way up to my locker, put my bag away, get my books, and go to Mrs. McDaniel's class, just to prove a point. I mentioned this to her when she brought up me being late, and she laughed. Laughed. Like I was some sort of punk she shrugged off her shoulder. This isn't business anymore; this is personal.
Then I have lunch. Yeah, I know this isn't really a class, but it's pretty cool, nonetheless.
Next, Art Around the World with Mrs. Kaylor and, temporarily, Mr. Wilson. He's a student teacher, and he's leaving next Wednesday. It's a shame, I actually like him. Mrs. Kaylor is pretty nice as well; she's reminds me of a more hesitant Miss Lee, which seems to be a good mix. She's very soft spoken, yet her orders are carried out. Only a few teachers are able to pull this off this feat. I'm impressed, to say the least.
I think this class has more morons than French. I despise nearly every individual at the table behind me and to the... -makes L's with fingers- ...right of me. My table and the table to the left of me are fine. sjhdakjshd. OW MY STOMACH. DAMN YOU ILLNESS, OWOWOWOWOWWWW. holy crap that hurt like HELL.
...anyway, after Art, I have Honors English with Mrs. Weston. I really enjoy this class, actually, and Mrs. Weston is an amusing and sweet individual. I have high amounts of respect for her, and I probably will for the rest of the year.
The class isn't bad at all. In fact, they amuse me, as well. I don't have much to say about this class except that I look forward to being in it every day. Oh, and we're reading The Westing Game. Eee. ♥ That will forever be one of my favorite books, just so you know.
Finally, I have Computer Programming with Mrs. Barilka. She puts me on edge a little, but she's very nice! Almost like a motherly type. Scolds you when you're misbehaving, praises you when you do something correctly, you know.
I'm the only girl in this class. Well, besides Mrs. Barilka. And because of my extremely awkward demeanor, I don't exactly have the easiest time befriending people. So I sort of relax in my little corner of the classroom, working on Microsoft Visual Basic, which is the biggest piece of crap I have ever seen when it comes to programming. What the hell is 'Option Explicit' doing at the top of the programs? It's ancient. A fossil A relic to the commonwealth of computers everywhere. I'm so used to working with Java and Dreamweaver that something as out-of-date as this confuses me occasionally. I understand it for the most part but... wow.
Then I go home, which is bloody forty-five minutes away.
Sounds fun, right? Well, it is. I enjoy school, but not for the education. I prefer the social part of it, as most teenagers do. I'm your average teenage, afterall. I'm just more of an opinionated asshole than most.
...sometimes I amaze myself with how much I write.
Labels: bad luck, classes, illness, school
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Illness I
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Honestly? I've been ill too often this year. I almost hit my ten-absences mark. It's only a matter of days until I get a letter from the state threatening to fine my family because I wasn't in school.
This sucks. I was supposed to take this math test today that I studied like... all night for. And I can't even take it until next week. Dammit, why does this always happen to me?
I'm convinced that I just carry around bad luck. Like I'm its fuel pump. I'm its photosystem I. (We're learning about photosynthesis in Biology. Yeah, I'm bored, too.) And I just carry my little bad luck molecules on my back as I live through my day. And sometimes, they fight back. They go, "Hey, Meghan's having a decent day, let's make it hell!" and there you go. Well, that's my theory, anyway.
On a completely different note, I think I'll just talk about my classes as an alternative to going to school.
First period I have French I with Mrs. Burke. Sorry; Madame Burke. It's my smallest class of the day, with only... twelve people, is it? Dunno. However, I've always loved small classes. I had my first experience with one in seventh grade with Mrs. Bara's first period English class. There was about 15 of us, and we were all thrown in there because we didn't do chorus, orchestra, or band, yet we were in honors. That shows a lot, doesn't it? Anyway, I grew close to quite a few people in that class, and it will probably forever be my favorite class.
Back on topic: French is full of morons. Seriously. Okay, well. Maybe not morons, per se. But something close to it. They're ignorant. And they think it's damn cool to waltz in and pretend not to care. I hate people like that, I'll tell you that right now. There's this one kid who annoys the hell out of me (and basically everyone else), one who I'm scared about entering society, another who I'm actually okay with, and one who is half-asleep nearly the whole entire time. I feel so superior in this class. Sure, I may have a C- (I blame... actually, I think I can only blame myself for that. DAMN) but I know what I'm doing. And I think that's all you need to know about French.
Then I have Honors Biology with Miss Lee. She's a new teacher, so she seems pretty scared about losing her position of power. Honestly, who wouldn't be when you're entering my school? She probably believes that all of her students will backfire and go insane on her; you know, tie her to a chair, taunt her by deleting every last file in her folder, set the room on fire, et cetera. I don't know, she acts like she's above all. I don't blame her; my peers force her into that position of faux anarchy by being a group of unruly twits.
The students aren't all that bad. A couple of them are obnoxious, and a few of them I flat out dislike. Then again, my best friend is in this class, so it isn't all that bad. And, for the record, I've hated sciences of any type since sixth grade, so don't expect any positive reviews about this class in the future. Nothing personal.
My favourite class this year would have to be Honors American History with Mr. Shaffer. He's been here since... forever. My uncle had him. My uncle's best friend had him. (I won't use 'girlfriend' considering that they aren't going out anymore.) My uncle's best friend's family had him. Yeah, he's practically carved into the school's rusty, old, 34-year-old skeleton.
Mr. Shaffer is probably the most calm and collected teacher I've ever had. Everyone complains about his class being 'boring' or whatever. I don't. It's probably because I've had an interest in any type of history since last year with Mr. Pope. He sort of opened my eyes to how epic the world can be. Although Mr. Shaffer is nothing compared to Mr. Pope (everyone agrees with me when I say that Mr. Pope would own Mr. Shaffer in a second's time) he's still pretty interesting, and he isn't boring. God people.
My class is okay. No complaints here.
Geometry with Mrs. McDaniels. I. Hate. This. Class.
I'll flat out say that I despise... let's go with 98% of this class. Words cannot describe my hatred for the students that inhabit classroom D6 during fourth period. I want to strangle them. And the teacher, too. She is probably the most dry, vain individual I have ever had the displeasure to meet. Well, those are the feelings that I get from her. She looks at me with that smug face that's practically screaming, "I'm better than you, you're below my standards of power, and you're late every day. Therefore you must be a goddamn hellion."
Because I'm a stubborn person whose only drive is to piss off Mrs. McDaniels, I arrive about three minutes late to class every day. I can't help it, though. I carry around an Andy Warhol Campbell's Soup Can bag around with me every day and it's rather large. About the size of my torso. And well, you know. All kids carry around deadly weapons in their bags these days. Naturally, being a teacher, Mrs. McDaniels brought this up and asked me to not carry it around anymore. I replied with a haughty, "umokay" which really meant, "hell no, do you want my arms to snap off like pretzels?" So, I basically go from Mr. Shaffer's class, allllll the way up to my locker, put my bag away, get my books, and go to Mrs. McDaniel's class, just to prove a point. I mentioned this to her when she brought up me being late, and she laughed. Laughed. Like I was some sort of punk she shrugged off her shoulder. This isn't business anymore; this is personal.
Then I have lunch. Yeah, I know this isn't really a class, but it's pretty cool, nonetheless.
Next, Art Around the World with Mrs. Kaylor and, temporarily, Mr. Wilson. He's a student teacher, and he's leaving next Wednesday. It's a shame, I actually like him. Mrs. Kaylor is pretty nice as well; she's reminds me of a more hesitant Miss Lee, which seems to be a good mix. She's very soft spoken, yet her orders are carried out. Only a few teachers are able to pull this off this feat. I'm impressed, to say the least.
I think this class has more morons than French. I despise nearly every individual at the table behind me and to the... -makes L's with fingers- ...right of me. My table and the table to the left of me are fine. sjhdakjshd. OW MY STOMACH. DAMN YOU ILLNESS, OWOWOWOWOWWWW. holy crap that hurt like HELL.
...anyway, after Art, I have Honors English with Mrs. Weston. I really enjoy this class, actually, and Mrs. Weston is an amusing and sweet individual. I have high amounts of respect for her, and I probably will for the rest of the year.
The class isn't bad at all. In fact, they amuse me, as well. I don't have much to say about this class except that I look forward to being in it every day. Oh, and we're reading The Westing Game. Eee. ♥ That will forever be one of my favorite books, just so you know.
Finally, I have Computer Programming with Mrs. Barilka. She puts me on edge a little, but she's very nice! Almost like a motherly type. Scolds you when you're misbehaving, praises you when you do something correctly, you know.
I'm the only girl in this class. Well, besides Mrs. Barilka. And because of my extremely awkward demeanor, I don't exactly have the easiest time befriending people. So I sort of relax in my little corner of the classroom, working on Microsoft Visual Basic, which is the biggest piece of crap I have ever seen when it comes to programming. What the hell is 'Option Explicit' doing at the top of the programs? It's ancient. A fossil A relic to the commonwealth of computers everywhere. I'm so used to working with Java and Dreamweaver that something as out-of-date as this confuses me occasionally. I understand it for the most part but... wow.
Then I go home, which is bloody forty-five minutes away.
Sounds fun, right? Well, it is. I enjoy school, but not for the education. I prefer the social part of it, as most teenagers do. I'm your average teenage, afterall. I'm just more of an opinionated asshole than most.
...sometimes I amaze myself with how much I write.
Labels: bad luck, classes, illness, school
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more about moi.
!! Meghan Julianna Schultz. 14. Female. Taken. Freshmen. CAPSLOCK.
 I'm commonly known online as Fiinikkusu, Megative, or Robotiqua. Some people call me Meg, Meggu, Mego's, Megatron, Megalopolis, Meganium, Schultzy, and some insults here and there. But you can call me tonight.
 I live the simple life. At the ripe age of fourteen, I can still rely on my parents. I can still do stupid things and only get disappointed head-shakes and scoldings. I can still love my boyfriend without being expected to have sex with him. I can still ask for a lollipop at the doctor's office. I can still be completely clueless about the world around me without others thinking I'm unintelligent. I know that in a few years, everything will be different. But that's okay. Everything is different.
 I'm not hard to please. I like Pokemon, playing the piano, cell phone charms, hair clips, window shopping, algebra, surveys, band-aids, pizza, my boyfriend, snow, Optimus Prime, 11:11, and kittens.
 When I grow up, I'm going to live with my boyfriend somewhere. Just anywhere but here. And I will have a coffeeshop. It's unnamed so far, but one day I will think of a name and a location and everything. Those are my life dreams in a nutshell; to live with my boyfriend, to own a coffeeshop, and to move away from the boonies of Pennsylvania.
 I'm straightedge, and I mention it often. I don't do drugs, smoke, drink, and I'm still a virgin. I hate alcohol more than anything on this planet, just throwing that out there. Don't talk to me just to bash my opinions. Everyone has them, and I appreciate that you're trying to make yours heard, but you're going to the wrong person about them.
 I watch anime and read manga. My favourites are Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, Pita-Ten, DOGs, and Kaleido Star. I watch television. My favorite TV shows are Scrubs and That 70's Show. I watch movies. My favorite movies are Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Transformers, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, and War Games.
 I'm not your average fourteen year old.
 
thass me.
Adopted Trees.
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