Erm, Thursday I pulled a real-life all-nighter so I could start and finish Into The Wild, which proved not to be a very great idea.
So I finished the book and then went downstairs for breakfast, since it was about 5:30 and everyone was leaving for work and hockey anyway. Seems like I spend a lot of my time alone now. So then I went to school, and feeling more awake than I would have been if I slept any.
Then I got to school, and the buzz lasted through first period, where Dever lectured on Louis XIV, who I already covered three weeks ago. Woo.
Then Algebra came. And I completely crashed.
Spanish wasn't that peachy, since we had a crap load of tests and I was breathing heavy from just walking up the stairs.
Lunch.
And then my condition slowly declined. See, I got sick in a matter of six hours. Like, really sick. Headache, coughing, ears hurting from the coughing, damn runny nose. Mr. Prez kept asking if I was okay. I just wanted to go home.
So I went home and immediately passed out for two or three hours.
Then dinner.
Twlight. Was. Awesome. And armed with my cough drops and tissues and water and two sweatshirts and hat and scarf, I made it through relatively well (although I pretty much tried to give up talking, since I only ended up coughing all over someone).
Got home. Nasty Theraflu that instantly relieved my throat so much I could have cried of relief.
Sleeepppppppp.
Woke at 8.
Normal Saturday, except dad cooked shrimp for me and I grabbed the bowl that I had forgotten he had cooked it in...
So I burnt my finger. It didn't start out bad. Barely hurt, end I tried to tell dad that while he spazzed and put it under cold water. Then about two minutes later it started to throb. BADLY. And I was like, "********. THIS HURTS."
It went away after an hour, and now it's really awesome. All it does is tingle when I touch it against something, and most of the nerves are fried. My finger's all shiny. It was an interesting experience. biggrin
And I don't say that in the masochistic way! It's just that I've never gotten burned this badly before, and it's much different than cuts or scrapes.
It was silent, so silent
As if even the stars were holding their breath.
View User's Journal
ASK YOURSELF in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity..." - Rainer Maria Rilke
When I grow up I want to be
N O T H I N G A T A L L
N O T H I N G A T A L L
User Comments: [2] [add]
|
bushy_haired_freak Community Member |
User Comments: [2] [add]
Community Member