Inexplicably Exhausted

I'm pretty worn out about writing after powering through an English essay in four hours, and I've forgotten everything I meant to say, but here I am, begging humbly for your forgiveness. I don't know what's wrong with me anymore, really! It's like I can't write anything!

Last week was like this semester's hell week. There was just so much stuff due and tests, I'm so glad this week is cut short. I wish I could get out of the totally ridiculous pep rally tomorrow, though. I have little to no pep. I'd much rather go straight to Shari's house and watch adorable movies (which is our plan for later in the day).

I finally went over to Zack's house the other day! We watched The Forbidden Kingdom, my birthday gift to him and also the greatest movie ever, and he beat me mercilessly at video games, and his mom called me a sweetheart and everything! It was lovely. I don't know what we'll do this weekend, but I'm sure we'll do something.

I had an epiphany the other day. I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and stop blaming the teachers for making the tests hard, and do what I know I need to do to score well.

I'm inexplicably exhausted, so I'll leave you with this half-assed attempt at an entry. Good night, loves.

As Promised

Now I give you a proper entry while waiting for the laundry to finish.

I hope everyone got through the hurricane alright! There wasn't a whole lot of damage here, though I know down by the shore was really bad. Our power went out for three days--the same amount of days we had off of school! We're making up a little bit of the deficit on Thursday and Friday, on which we wouldn't have had school if the teacher's convention in Atlantic City weren't cancelled for obvious reasons, but at least today is still off. Happy election, guys! I know a lot of you are old enough to vote. Zack turns 18 in two days. He's furious.

Speaking of Zack's birthday, I have no idea what to get him. Joy was kind enough to comment suggestions in my last post (though unfortunately I don't have time to order anything online). You know what you guys should do? You should all do the same because I am extremely desperate! I don't think it's even that he's a guy and guys are hard to shop for; it's that he's my boyfriend and boyfriends are hard to shop for. If he were just a guy friend I could get him Magic cards and call it a day.

Speaking of NaNoWriMo (haha it's funny because I wasn't), I'm extremely behind because I haven't written at all for two days and I need to go do that now even though the laundry will be done soon. Farewell!

In lieu of a proper entry (which I will get to later)

Between my house and the next is a mass of trees, so thick that the canopies become indistinguishable from the twilight on, a crepuscular creature with a thousand floating tendrils drifting in an invisible breeze, standing stalwart on mighty, sometimes twisted beams. I differentiated in my youth the trees which were good for climbing, and I could spring like a woodland fairy from one branch to the next without a falter; I learned the spots where the leaves fell so thick they made a veritable bed of damp, soft foliage, and stumble home in the evening wet with that ubiquitous moisture of the forest floor. I knew where to find little troves of pinecones, scattered about the ground through wind or the reach of the great trees, and often spent an afternoon stockpiling them amongst the roots.

I knew the paths which avoided the burs and the thorns, and I sensed which trees were old and would fall in the next great storm; I encouraged the young trees with childish supplications and caressing fingers, willing them, pulling them closer to the sun. When a tree fell I made the halo of its vertical roots into an alter for my innocence. I poked about the mud for worms, and in variance with my capricious mood, either released them back into their soggy homes, or left them on branches as offerings to the omnipresent but ever-concealed birds.

In the winter the space became a graveyard. The weather-beaten brown-gray oaks were sepulchers of the promise of life. If I placed my ear against the bark I could hear the distant hum of greenness, vivacity, the eternal turn of seasons deep within the dry cracked bark, but it was buried well. Dead leaves rotted into the ground and vanished, sometimes, under a heavy shroud of white, the color of mourning in my eyes, and therefore a fitting tribute to summer’s death. When the sun once more rose on the curling green infants of spring, alight on the branches’ ends, two seasons’ hardships transformed the fertile earth once more into the luscious carpet of the palace of the nymphs. In this time the sun was never gray, and the Earth never dark, but every fiber of nature breathed the secret of birth, and the breeze of the morning whispered of the light of day, and nightfall caressed the slumber of the spirits of the trees, and told them in its stars of the endless story of the rebirth of the world.