Today is the first day back to school after a glorious six weeks of nothingness. Imagine my SHOCK and DISMAY when I found out that everyone was excactly the same! No, just kidding. Haha. I may be optimistic but I'm not stupid; the girls are still pathetically desperate for a crumb of popularity, the boys are *mostly* still disappointing, and, Dear God, the teachers are probably more of a danger to themselves then anyone else.
As you (hopefully) read in one of my previous posts (Popularity and other myths.), I have an extremely low opinion of silly little girls desperate for attention. And here is the part where you berate me; Come now, that's slightly unfair. I'm sure we were all like that at a certain age. NO! You weren't! None of us were! Normal, civilised people do NOT act like that. They do not bitch, and backstab, nor do they repeatedly wear you down until you crumble. Honestly, I am so sick and tired of all the excuses. There is no excuse for this downright bitchy behaviour. Hopefully someone will see through their pink sparkly armour and then we'll all be free.
Ahh, the teenage boy; a heaving mass of testosterone, energy and endless excitement. Also the home of the intellectually challenged. How many times can we throw ourselves against this wall before it cracks?! Er, probably not very many; even your numbskull would crack before that towering, unmoveable brick eyesore, affectionately known as 'Reception'. And of course, because most of my friendships (and by that, you understand, I mean 'all') reside with the boys, I am used to this behaviour. BUT it does get wearing. Thirteen (or fourteen in some cases) year-old boys behaving like five year olds, high on Milka lollies, does not an engaging friendship suggest.
I am already overwhelmingly dissatisfied with the teachers. It seems six weeks has not changed their attitude to the female teenage coven, the childish graffiti, and the incessant nagging, but merely strengthened their resolve against taking unauthorised sick leave. WHAT? WHY?! I don't know. Teachers are a law unto themselves, especially my tiresome tutor. She might be new to this whole 'tutoring' business (she's a PE teacher, bless, waaaaaaay out of her comfort zone), but she is still a) stuck in the 1960's (Forms...gymslips...stockings?!), and b) A USELESS tutor. Case in point, today, the resident ''badman'' (I say this with heavy, forced irony) of the class, was stood up, swearing, making obscene gestures and suggestions towards many an innocent member of the class; his punishment? Stand outside for five minutes. Five, I ask you. Sometimes, it's hard not to feel pity for these poor teachers, but then I remember that, being a 'rash, opinionated individual' as I was so described, I think differently from everyone else. I really think it's a shame; you always hear that being a teenager is a big emotional whirl of hormones, relationships and growing up. There are also the various tales of alienation of one individual from a peer group, and you always listen with feigned interest, all the while thinking 'Ha. That will never be me!'. But no-one ever knows they're wrong :) to be perfectly honest, I really do not care anymore. You cannot fathom the imensity of the damn I do not give. As I have just rambled to my 'Mothaaaaaaar', I got a warm enough welcome from the boys, did I not? I have my boyfriend, I have my Year Eleven superior friends to look out for me, I have the boys in my tutor group, all of them defiantly male. And I'm happy. I am genuinely happy to be who I am, with no girlfriends whatsoever. I have made sure of it; all this bitching really tires a person out, you know? At least with a boy, it's 'I don't like you. **punch** Yeah.' then they're over it. I am so fantastically elated to be able to say that, yes, my friends are all boys, and no, I don't think of them romantically; I have my boyfriend for that! I suppose it's always easier, when you're the odd one out, to make the best of it. I have wasted almost two years trying to work out why I'm so disliked over the majority of the female population of Year 9. I have WASTED those years, because it's only now that I realise I don't care. I have so much more to look forward to; a few dashed friendships is not going to hamper my enthusiasm. This year, it's all about work, work, work, and without the infamous catfights standing in my way, I know I can go above and beyond as never before.