i time bomb

i time bomb

Last night was the Turkey Trot, the November dance. I don’t know why they insist on these stupid names. But in a way, they kind of make sense. The stupidity of the name reflects so well the stupidity of the entire concept. Not our dances in particular, just the entire concept is…. odd. But that doesn’t make any sense.

The dance was fairly normal. Some vicious sophomore alpha girls tried to take my pants off (twice), but I was wearing a belt. “Always be prepared.” Zuke thinks its a bad idea, of course, but then he has even less of an idea what he’s talking about than I do. All I know is that I didn’t really want to be standing in the middle of a crowded room with my jeans around my ankles. It wasn’t that kind of night.

Other than that, nothing terribly special. Towards the end they played Nirvana’s “Smell Like Teen Spirit.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cordelia so happy. We went up towards the front, and she was screaming out the lyrics at the top of her lungs. It was a lot of fun, too. “I love this song!” she says, with this funky little smile on her face and her eyes all lit up. We ran headlong into a group of freshman/sophomore boys jumping up and down. I don’t think they quite expected a mosh, so it didn’t really work. Not that the teachers standing off in the corner would have let it turn into anything fun, but we’re proud of ourselves for trying.

Hooray for emotional roller coasters, for all those damnable influential little things, and for not caring what it means or what’s going on so long as it makes you happy.

I’m listening to blink-182’s “Anthem” over and over again while I write this. I don’t know why.

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