When I was a junior in high school my English Comp teacher made the class keep a journal that we had to write in each Thursday. Each Thursday I would sit pen in hand with a blank mind and an empty entry, but then the words would come, but before they came I would have a hissy fit and think, "Why do I have to do this stupid shit, this is dumb, I hate this, I hate Mr. Carver, What the fuck and I going to write about?"
Here is the first entry to the journal that I was forced to write 23 years ago. God this makes me feel old! I am writing the entry just as I did when I was 16, no corrections to grammar or spelling etc.
Jan. 30, 86
Okay, so, Mr. Carver is like making us write a journal. We can write what we want to but like I don't know what to write about. I could write the horoscopes for journalism but then Mr. Carver would see them and no one is supposed to see what goes into the school paper before it comes out and it is not coming out until like next Friday.
Well, I just don' t know what to say but like I have to write something or I will get an F. If I get an F I will be in trouble and my mom and Hal will take my car away from me until they need milk and then they will send me 7-11 to get it and then I will get my car back. Get like your own milk I no longer know how to drive like RE-MEM-BER DUH! I got an F in Eng-Lish.
There was a shuttle disaster two days ago, The Challenger blew up over the ocean in like Flordia right after it took off and all seven people who were on board like blew up too. One of them was a teacher named Christa McAuliffe. Something about an o-ring caused it to blow up. I feel bad for all the people who died, and I think it is like sick to make dumb jokes about it. What kind of 7 doesn't come up? That is like TOTALLY GROSS
Ring, ring-the bell and The end!
