Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community - View Single Post - Close your eyes. You're 17. Where are you?

The_Dunedan · 10-20-2006, 11:22 PM

Mid-October and I'm 17...
It's Senior Yeah of HS, naturally, and I hate it. Except for a couple of classes, the only redeeming feature of High School is marching band, where I've been learning to drink, flirt, play pranks, and play Verdi on the Trombone.
Our Band's really good; consistant wins every year, but I'm worried because the idiotic Drummers can't seem to get their shit together. My Band friends are pretty much my life at this time of year; we're always either practicing or partying together. My non-Band friends are invited too, but they don't understand the jokes.

I'm worried about getting into college because, aside from a stellar showings in my History and French classes, HS has been a joke for me. I cruise through, bored to tears and sick to death of the BS. My grades relfect this, and I know it. Half the teachers in school love me, because I actually speak up. The other half hate me because of what I say when I -do- speak up. I wear a trenchcoat and it's just over a year after Columbine; I don't care. It keeps me warm, and I was wearing it long before Columbine. I'm used to the dirty looks; I was "the Nerd" for ten years, after all.

I work at a grocery store and hate it.

10-20-2006, 11:22 PM	#25 (permalink)
The_Dunedan Junkie	Mid-October and I'm 17... It's Senior Yeah of HS, naturally, and I hate it. Except for a couple of classes, the only redeeming feature of High School is marching band, where I've been learning to drink, flirt, play pranks, and play Verdi on the Trombone. Our Band's really good; consistant wins every year, but I'm worried because the idiotic Drummers can't seem to get their shit together. My Band friends are pretty much my life at this time of year; we're always either practicing or partying together. My non-Band friends are invited too, but they don't understand the jokes. I'm worried about getting into college because, aside from a stellar showings in my History and French classes, HS has been a joke for me. I cruise through, bored to tears and sick to death of the BS. My grades relfect this, and I know it. Half the teachers in school love me, because I actually speak up. The other half hate me because of what I say when I -do- speak up. I wear a trenchcoat and it's just over a year after Columbine; I don't care. It keeps me warm, and I was wearing it long before Columbine. I'm used to the dirty looks; I was "the Nerd" for ten years, after all. I work at a grocery store and hate it.