I have come to the conclusion after many years of ignorance that I absolutely hate people.

The first event to trigger this was about a week ago when I was walking to Drama class. Honestly, I don't bullshit my way to class by walking to class with someone I couldn't care less about talking about how I'm going to smoke weed with them on the weekends. I'm introverted. I don't like dealing with stupid conversation. However, I do like fucking around and making jokes that are of a funny nature with a few buddies. Anyway, I was walking to class and I stopped and talked with a guy on my improv team, Mike. Anyway, me and Mike were talking and all of a sudden some guy pushed me and said, "Get out da way, fool." And I just looked at him and said, "Faggot shit!" And he kept walking looking at me, yelling taunts, and I really couldn't have cared less. Finally, this guy threw his orange juice bottle at us, hitting some random kid in the leg and getting juice all over him. Of course me and Mike laughed at this, not really paying much attention to it. A few days later, this same moron pushed this kid Daniel in my PE class for no reason, just trying to get through. Where the FUCK do people like that get off? Finally this guy Alex was fed up with it, and he just said to the guy, "Wow, big man," and the guy pushed HIM trying to act tough too. Then he knocked off Alex's glasses. I laughed about it, because I realized how stupid he was, and we ignored it.

Anyway, what really triggered this hate was a few minutes ago when my sister was telling me how her friends think I'm a nerd 'cause I'm Asian I guess. This girl in my drama class asked me for a quote for the school paper dealing with "secret music tastes". I gave her this quote: "After a long day at school, I like to lie on my bed and cry the tears away with some soft Justin Timberlake." Now seriously, if you don't get I was being sarcastic, you are a moron. My sister was telling me how she was embarassed because people around her were taking this SERIOUSLY, saying I was a loser. At this point, I just grew really frustrated and went outside and had a cigarette. This is why I fucking smoke, this is why I hate people. I just really hate dealing with it.

I realize that most of the people who know me know otherwise, but it still bothers me knowing people still judge people based on not knowing them at all. No, I'm not going on a shooting rampage, but seriously, people need to hurl themselves at a wall and kill themselves.

Anyway, this made me even madder because I've done it myself so many times, and I finally realize my mistake.

"People's stupidity is frustrating."

Cheers.

-george

I just woke up from a three hour nap. For some reason, I always figure that I'll just wake up early and finish my homework, but that never seems to be the case. For example, I set my alarm clock for 5:15 am thinking that I was going to finish a Chem lab. As it turns out, I pressed the snooze button every nine minutes until 6:30, which is kind of funny now that I look back on it. Obviously, I was dead tired when I got home. I've also decided that whoever made it so school starts so damn early in the morning is one ignominious bastard.

Today is a day to use overly strong words.

I went to the Dublin High Improv show last night with Alan and Stacy. The only reason I went was because Lucas is on the team, and I thought he would entertain me for a while. However, the night ended up being pretty much a waste of time as their team coach, Mr. Cline, was the host and would not permit any "foul play". I must admit though, Lucas is one funny guy, even though me, Stacy, and Alan were the only ones in the audience that thought so. It was honestly very sad that any member of my improv team could have easily gotten more laughs than their entire team combined. I'm quite extemporaneous myself, to be quite honest with you. It actually made me want to play some improv games myself. Our next show is in February, which is quite a long time away, so I guess I'll have to entertain myself until then. The best part of the night was when I made everyone go get ice cream with me at McDonalds. I'm such a sly bastard.

I noticed that sometimes I can make the best out of the worst situation, or at least have a laugh at it. I quietly murmured, "Shit," when I saw what had happened to my car after I parked it under a lamppost in the cold winter. I smiled at the irony, as if God himself were looking at me, about to shake my hand and say, "You sir, have a great sense of comedy." Anyway, after seeing this, I decided I'd skip lunch (I didn't have much money anyway) and go to the local car wash to get this mess (Hahaha! The irony.) cleaned up. I looked around the gas station mini mart for a couple minutes as if I were going to buy anything before I slapped down my "frequent car wash" membership card. The man at the counter said, "I'm sorry, but the car wash is down." You can't possibly comprehend how discouraging this was. It was more discouraging than the goddamn puritans being thrown in an icy hoosegow until they got chilblain and DIED. Speaking of which, my history teacher was telling us about the different torture techniques the Americans used during the Philippine-American war. The tube down the throat was my favorite. I imagined that the soldiers would play some kind of game, trying to create elaborate designs with the tubes when they stuck them down the prisoner's throat... almost labyrinthine in a way. The only thing that made me laugh even harder was when I imagined the soldiers throwing some triturated salt on their wounds. Okay, none of this actually made me laugh per say, but I at least smiled. I think I chuckled at once or twice.

I have been having the most wonderful dreams. The other night I had this one where I we were recasting parts for our play, and for some reason I was sick so I couldn't make it. The best part about dreams is that even when you're not there, you can still see everything that's happening. It just knocked me out that there were professional men in business suits that were trying out for MY part in a high school play. Eventually, one man by the name of Clyde Wellsdale who was very professional stole my part, and I grew very angry with my drama teacher. I told her that once you cast someone into a part, it's sacrosanct - there's nothing anyone can do about it. It should be a goddamn law for chrissakes. Anyway, I woke up at this point and started laughing like crazy.

I was having a cigarette this afternoon and I was looking at how great our backyard is starting to turn out. I forgot to mention that we're having some people work on it because my mom wants it to look nice before Spring rolls by because our grandmother wants to garden. Anyway I was looking at these Sumacs that the gardeners planted and thought that it would be terrific if I made a fort or something that I could hang out in when I was bored. You know, after a long day at school or something I could hang out in my fort and have a nice glass of Hermitage. Then I could have camporees on weeknights and get an award or something. None of this happened, actually, I just wanted to use the words "sumac" and "Hermitage". Some people might find that cute, now that I think about it.

It's getting late so I suppose I should be going to bed soon. I've been eating way too much fast food and gaining some weight, but I felt it was okay because everyone gains weight around the Holidays. I've just drifted into a state of torpor. Doing sit-ups and push-ups just don't seem that thrilling anymore. The only thing that makes me sad about all of this is that the chances of having a sweet demoiselle walk by and asking me to court her are slowly declining. Don't worry, I'm not becoming a fat ass.

Nevermind, I'll just stop there. I'm becoming so damn garrulous!

cya.

-george

So here I am, pretty angry with myself that I got a speeding ticket five months ago. Yes, of course I'm leading up to something.

To get a point off of my "driving record", I had to attend Traffic School on Saturday for eight glamorous hours. Needless to say, I wasn't too thrilled about it. I don't know anyone that is thrilled to go to traffic school, actually, and about half the adults I asked said they would rather be shot in the face than go again. My parents told me it was a good reason for not getting another ticket.

Looking around the room was the hardest part. I looked around and all I could see was a rainbow of ethnicity born in a rain shower in the early seventies. That wasn't supposed to be racist, it was just how it was. "Just the facts, man." I looked up and I saw this complicated system of pipes that seemed to lead to nowhere. The walls were bare with holes in it every two feet. It felt like I was in a goddamn warehouse.

First of all, I thought there would be at least a FEW kids my age taking the class, but apparently only people thirty and above get traffic tickets. So I sat down between this middle-aged Asian man wearing "ghetto" clothing, and an old scaly woman who kept informing the class that she drove a Jaguar, as if that would win our respect.

The teacher was both the best and the worst part of the day. His name was Jack mc Fadden. I thought it was funny that he kept telling everyone he was Irish, because apparently nobody can tell from the "mc" in his name. George mc Ha is my moniker, and you'd better realize I'm Irish before I tell you repeatedly in my goddamn traffic school. That's how bad it was. Anyway, it was getting quite chilly in the room, and I already had a cough to begin with so I was upset, and I asked old Jack if he could turn up the heater. He proceeded to tell me that "Tiara" used to be in charge of the temperature, but she always turned up the heater too much and it frustrated him. I asked him who "Tiara" was and he proceeded to call me "Looney Tunes". Boy, everything was "Looney Tunes" with this guy. You'd ask him how the weather was, and he'd say "What is with all these Looney tunes asking me these Looney tunes questions?" And yes, he'd even say Looney Tunes Questions even though it sounds horrible grammatically. Well anyway, after I got no real answer about who Tiara was, I immediately saw a tan Doberman walking around the room with a nametag that said "Tiara". That place was crazy. I felt like I was in a goddamn nuthouse.

However, despite getting Pneumonia and being annoyed with the Asian man asking me, "Yo, can I have a pen, bro?" every five minutes, I managed to survive by looking around the room and thinking what other people were thinking. This took a few tries to perfect, because at first I got this woman from a trailer who was missing several teeth and talked in some sort of slurred speech, and I seriously doubted she was thinking anything at all. I was surprised when she knew what white lines on the road were. I mean, no one else in the room did.

Take this red-haired girl in her mid-twenties for example. She was wearing a "studded belt" and a fashionable shirt. I could tell that she was thinking of getting her nails done or wondering what was going to happen in the next episode of "Friends". I wanted to walk right up to her and call her a big phony, and that nobody gave a fuck that she had red hair, she was still a big goddamn phony.

Then there was this man in his late thirties who kept raising his hand every three minutes, asking old Jack if he knew when certain laws were passed. Jack had no idea, so this man proceeded to tell him and the rest of the class that the Romans and the French and the English were behind all of our traffic laws. You could tell everyone in the room wanted to hurl a brick at this guy. He was that goddamn boring. I kind of laughed at this man sitting behind me who called him a "boring faggot". Not at what he called him, but because he yelled it out of nowhere. The woman with the jaguar turning around and giving him a lecture kind of ruined it though.

That's really all I want to talk about traffic school for now, except that during the breaks we got, I sat in my car and listened to music for five minutes because it kept me sane. I didn't want to have a cigarette for numerous reasons. I mean, there WAS a police station right next door. Well that, and I was sick of being hassled. Jack liked to walk Tiara around the parking lot during break. I kind of felt sorry for him because he seemed like one of those guys who break up with their girlfriends when they're twenty three and are never really over it. I started feeling really sorry for him when I pictured him eating a can of cold ravioli with Tiara licking herself in front of a fireplace during Christmas time.

I wanted to make this entry really emotional and soft, but I'm angry right now because I wrote this fabulous essay on Friday night to show up my entire English class, but now I have such a bad cold my mother won't let me go to school tomorrow. I'm going to ask Mr. Rice if I can read it anyway on Tuesday, or if he'll let me read it to him at least. I really worked hard on it.

On a side note, I'm the kind of guy that rolls down his windows in the rain to have a cigarette. It'd be so much better if I didn't include that cigarette part, sorry. I need a girlfriend. God, I wish I didn't say that.

cya.

-george