Day 1 - Combat Credential Acquisition
It was around 13:30 hours when our first troops were deployed. My memory is a bit hazy, but I remember the key bits of the mission well.
I was at my desk in the round. If I remember correctly, I was writing or reading something, when the alarm was sounded and all headed out for the first engagement of the war. Consumed by the task at hand, I had no sense of time. I hastily, but somewhat coolly found the folder containing my battle plans and notes. Soon we were off to battle.
Me and the boys were nervous. I was visibly shaken, a look of trauma and horror took hold of me as I rode. Adrenaline was surging through my body; my pulse sped up to worrying rates. Clearly I was overwrought with anxiety. And why wouldn't I be? Everytime I rode to that combat zone, I always felt a little horrible inside. Some part of me always realized the mundane aspect of war-life, but there was no escaping it; you fought until you died. No one of my rank could leave.
I felt paticularly worse on this day. It had been so long since I last frequented here. I was out of touch and felt mortified of the experiances that could lay ahead. Almost every trauma, every pain has been inflicted by war. No wonder I felt awful.
Yet, very little was going through my mind at the time. I tried to remain composed the entire trip. It was agonizing.
All too soon, we arrived on the scene. We got out stumbling slightly, but were alert and ready for danger. The long covered alley-way that lead into the heart of the compound was spotted. I gave the signal to move forward.
An enemy patrol cruised our way. We ducked into the bushes for cover then silently advanced as the patrol unwittingly missed us. An early conflict avoided. Really, we wanted to avoid all conflict. We didn't even want to be here. This was a quick in-and-out operation; the sooner we got out, the better.
We moved quickly and sharply, making winding turns this way and that, but kept our focus on the objective. We were small in numbers, but more than compensated by suprise and momentum. As long as we kept our energy forward, we could get through with minimal discomfort.
There was a line inside. It was for the combat reports. We established ourselves to the rear and slowly trudged forward whenever the line would permit us. Insane. We do we officers have to go through obligatory tribulations? Why was there no way out?
The whole time in the line we had to keep our heads down from familiars. These soldiers were known for causing discomfort and sometimes pain amongst the troops. We just looked down whenever we felt threatened.
It was a good 20-25 minutes, a rough estimate, until we got inside the café. There, we received the requisite war credentials. More former-fellows were spotted, but with minimal threats present. It wasn't long before we left. We were stunned by the sudden re-encounter with combat personnel and the compound as a whole, but we had just enough sanity left to return home safely.
Day 2 - Officer Consultation
A similar sort of awkwardness struck us as we returned to the compound. I cannot remember exactly what me and my men were feeling, but probably more anxiety. When would this nightmare end? When would we be free men?
This time we were here to consult with our officers and acquire any needed information over combat-curricula and other meaningless garbage. We decided to sweep the compound from sector A to D, moving quickly between each hall quickly. My men were distraught and uncertain. We hurried.
Our first stop, if I remember correctly, was at Officer Toma's, our History Informant. He gave us his syllabus and a few words explaining his motives for the coming year. We stayed there for, perhaps the second-longest period of time, after Dodd.
Upstairs was Manley's and Harris' quarters, commanders of English and Mythology, respectively. Manley greeted us warmly, but gave us no physical Intel. Specifics would be disclosed at a later date. Harris was absent, or so we thought. A sign told us that she would be here in 15 minutes. It turns out it had been around 15 minutes already, and there she was. She offered us preliminary words and a syllabus and we were off. Dodd, Blasingame, then Hibbard. Blasingame was absent and Hibbard appeared to be. But this was a feign. A message outside her door informed us that we could visit her downstairs in the commons for optional Intel. I refused. We wanted to avoid unnecessary encounters and thus avoided the HibbardBot.
Then it was off to the final destination: Robertston, the Combat Chemistry Mechanic. Same ole same ole, a combat sheet that we would have gotten anyway, and a dollop of small-talk. With that it was over. We left. Tomorrow would be the longest day. A day for history.
We erred in that we did not prepare for the horrors that lay ahead. We had an excellent understand of them on a gut-level, but we were unaware of our feelings. In the next few days, our men were suprised at the voracity of the enemy. We shouldn't have been, we had faced this all before. And yet we let it get to us. We continued our tradition of mistakes.
By the end of the 6th day of combat, our troops were weary from exertion, yet hopeful. We had wrought well, and this timeout would allow us to re-formulate our plans and strike back harder, with more ferocity and boldness.
We weren't going to let these bastards crush our spirits and claim our men. No, we would rally together, unite as one, and utterly destroy the opposition.
We would survive.
(The above posts were written on 8/26/12)
Description: Some simple playthings for the kids to enjoy.
Analysis: A frivolous expenditure. Provides only a small boost of happiness, there are more effective and powerful methods of increasing happiness.
Item: Home Remedy
Description: This is some locally made tea which relieves minor ailments. Everybody might benefit from it. Here's to hoping it helps.
Analysis: Unsure. Long-term usage can remove the "sick" status off of an individual. Needs to be studied in further depth.
Item: Book and Supplies
Description: Get some books, pens, and pencils. This season everybody will get a chance to study a bit.
Analysis: Boosts edu by a point or so every few seasons/turns. Not sure of efficacy.
Item: New Shoes
Description: New shoes for the family make work significantly easier.
Analysis: A must have. Greatly reduces long-term health loss for all.
Item: School Uniform
Description: A new set of school uniforms. This is just what you need to get the kids into a better school.
Analysis: A neccessity for rapid educational advancement. This is vital.
Description: Stay in touch with the news and stay entertained. Costs quite a lot.
Analysis: Not sure if too important. Happiness can, of course, be derived through other means
Description: A bicycle greatly extends the distance you can travel in a day. That should open up new work and opportunities.
Description: A large bed is enough to give the whole Guinard family a much better night of rest. Good for refreshing oneself after a long day of work.
Item: Livestock (AKA One Chicken)
Description: Livestock generates extra income for your family. You earn more every season, even if no one is at family farm.
Item: Interior Plumbing
Description: A set of pipes and septic equipment are installed in your house. Much more sanitary than the old system.
Item: Home Computer
Description: A computer in the house would do amazing things for the Guinard's education and happiness.
Item: New House
Description: A new home, in better shape than you old one and with more space for the whole family.
Poor Living - 420 Goud (on average)
Decent Living - 560 Goud (on average)
Good Living - 840 Goud (on average)
Excellent Living - 1120 Goud (on average)
(Work in progress)
Play Here! (please open in a new tab)
Welcome to Advanced Game Theory of Ayiti, The Cost of Life. Here, I will share with you my personal insights on how to combat improvishment in rural Haiti. Understand my methodology, apply my techniques judicously, and you will no doubt succeed in the game.
It may be an aged flash game created mostly for informational purposes, but I think it's pretty fun.
It will take many hours of work for me to compile, collate, and ultimately, understand the inner-workings of the game, but I am determined to bring all the information here for all's convenience. This is a work-in-progress and thus, it will be edited many times.
This section is intended to be a read-through, referring back to it would be a good idea, but it is more of a presentation, rather than a
Enjoy. Lean back. And have fun.
In Ayiti: The Cost of Life, there are four aspects that I will be analyzing:
(in approximate order of importance)
To survive, you must keep your troops' (AKA The Guinard Family) health in check.
Every game, skill, task has a set of fundementals that must be followed and understood in order to attain mastery in said area. Ayiti is no different. Here, I have compiled a list of facts and permenant fundementals for easy reference:
Note: Dates and other Intel will be more defined as developments occur. Changes can and will occur.
Army Strength: 978,439/1,000,000
Total Kills: undefined
Total Casualties: 21,561
Days in Combat: 6/173
Average Morale: undefined
Average Number of Kills per day, per sortie: undefined
Average Number of Casualties per day, per sortie: undefined
Total morale lost, gained: undefined
[ ] Nicaragua (Combat Supplies)
[X] Midwest Post (Intel) - (Conquered 8/16/12)
[X] Normandy (Initial Landings)
[ ] The Bocage Country (A Four Month Slugfest)
[ ] VALUE=undefined:algorithmic_bullout
[ ] Hell (Three Soul-Quaking Months of Misery)
[ ] Mass Evacuation (Complete Withdrawal of all Forces from Hell)
07:45 - 08:35 | Hibbard - Level II Security German Concentration Camp
08:40 - 09:30 | Robertson - Combat Chemistry/Chemistry in Combat
09:35 - 10:30 | Blasingame - Mental Institution for Psycho Trainees
10:30 - 11:10 | Meal Break/Troop Relaxation Period/Commingling Time
11:15 - 12:05 | Manley - Combat Literacy II
12:10 - 13:00 | Toma - Irrelevent History of The World 101
13:05 - 13:55 | Dodd - AL-JEBR2
14:00 - 14:50 | Hibbard - Filmography of Compilated War Deaths
[ ] No Combat Day Day - 09/03/12
We'll stop fighting, just for lulz!
[ ] Officer Only Combat Day 1/2 - 09/04/12
Where only commissioned officers engage in combat!
[ ] The Fall Withdrawal - 10/18/12 - 10/19/12
Insufficient supplies due to cold weather and those damn leaves causes forces a temporary truce.
[ ] Spawn Module/Officer Conference 1/2 - 10/26/12
Officers and the Spawners of Soldiers will engage in moderate chat on their soldier's doings. An optional meeting, but a day off for all.
[ ] Thanksgiving Retreat - 11/21/12 - 11/23/12
Turkey deaths have been on the rise in war zones. A short cease-fire will be held to eat their already cooked corpses.
[ ] Winter Escape - 12/21/12 - 01/01/13
With icy weather and the holidays, all anyone can or wants to do is retreat in their cozy bunkers and foxholes for some much needed recuperation.
[ ] Officer Only Combat Day 2/2 - 01/01/13
Officers fight alone, again!
[ ] Martin Luther King Day - 01/21/13
In honor of The King, we shall all take a day off. But mostly for lulz.
[ ] Spawn Module/Officer Conference 2/2 - 02/15/12
A second hosting of the Spawn Module/Officer Conference! Yet another free day! Aye!
[ ] Presidents' Day - 02/18/13
The ghostly wills of presidents past make communication very difficult and thus forces both sides to withdraw.
[ ] Spring Reprieve - 03/18/13 - 03/22/13
The final withdrawal of the year. A week long break that should do our boys some good before diving into a month-long Test Fest.
(Alternate Version of "Prelude.")
Greetings, my brothers and sisters. As you may know, in a month and a half, the Great Campaign of 2012-13 will begin.
In preparation of the invasion, I'm collectivising all my experiences, logic and intuition into a master plan, a doctrine that should serve me and my troops well for the impending campaign and for the rest of my years as a commander.
Last year's campaign was, in many regards, a failure. My troops were ill-equipped and undisciplined. They knew nothing of the Enemy and of the battles ahead of them. They were doomed from the start.
Many believed the campaign was of 2011-12 would be short and easy march through academic waters. Not so. Our soldiers were promised warm blankets and soup and a passive enemy; they were shocked when they realized that the enemy was capable of fighting back, and with force. Never had an enemy been so resilient. Many casualties may have been avoided had the general calculated properly beforehand.
Morale during the campaign's inception was at an all time high. Never before had things looked so bright. But very soon our troops were deeply entrenched into Enemy territory, blind and disarrayed. Within the opening weeks of combat, contact from our main combat sectors had been severed. Our early opportunities missed, and all efforts for advancement, stifled. Thousands of small-arms squads were isolated and without contact. Only a handful were able to rendezvous successfully and dissolve into other divisions.
We managed to pull through, with our main combat units still intact, only because a few of our primary air divisions were able to contact HQ and battalions below. Their extra-temporal view and range allowed the successful relaying of information between combat units. This wasn't enough to prevent heavy casualties but a makeshift system of communication and Intel ensured that our units held up fairly well. It was all we could ask for at this stage of the war.
Although I, and many of my subordinates blundered during key battles, we did learn how to function more cohesively.
Even as troops were dying on the field, more knowledge of the Enemy was being brought in to our command centers. A bit midway from the campaign's start, more rigorous discipline was enforced. During the final months, a surge of fresh reinforcements was a welcome sight to tired, battle-scarred eyes. Casualties were minimized to almost zero and the Enemies disguises, gambits, guerilla tactics, and espionage were nullified. The Enemies' greatest advantage: secrecy: was effectively destroyed. The war was won with high spirits, but not without a price.
Over a third of our army's initial strength was wiped out. All dead, missing or enslaved by the Enemy. Our forces were replenished throughout the war, but the costs were high; the dead will never come back. This left a permanent mark on the friend's and families of the fallen soldier. They may have been able to pull through and be joyous once more, but death left it's mark on everyone, even those who are fortunate to still have their lives.
Let this year be a brighter success in some way rather than a blind wandering through a tumultuous storm.
The following is a private meeting held between Woota, Leader of The Woota Poopas, and his top staff members. He is speaking to his fellow elite, they are the administrators who carry out Our Great Leader's orders. Here, I've managed to acquire the transcript of the Woota's opening words. View at your own risk.
Private Woota Conclave - "My Little Dogma"
1:47 PM - 1:54 PM
"To my chief officers, I am instating a new mindset, a new political dogma that I want you to feed to the press, to the masses, and to all of your subordinates!
My brothers and sisters... We have lost many good men in wars past... I wish, that. We could somehow avoid this conflict and all others entirely. But alas, we have no choice but to drive our forces forth to greet the enemy. On August 17, 2012, we will, for the Tenth year, invade Normandy. On the 7th, all troops and officers of status 14 or 15 are required to rally and Midwest Post to receive Intel on officers, doctrines, times, and battles and battlefields. The post will open at 8 AM. Soldiers will only have 3 hours to collect their registry's before the post will shutdown to allow other units to allocate themselves.
Our time is very limited we must make the most of our precious few hours to devise the best stratagems and tactics. I will not allow failure or any tomfoolery. Our Great Nation is in a crisis state. We no longer have the resources or the populace on our side. We need to show our people that we can indeed push through Normandy and beyond with minimal casualties. Any ideas?"
This was the only disclosed portion of the meeting. The results of the meeting was the latest doctrine from Our Great Leader, the Woota Doctrine, a Doctrine for life and all times.
The doctrine he released was intended to be modular and incomplete. His objective was to provide a concrete, yet generalized methodology that all commanders would be required to follow.
Here is the Woota Doctrine...
Work in Progress: This is just the scaffolding...
The Woota Doctrine
I. Successive Division of Enemy Combat Units
1. The riff raff, the main combat fleet, ignored, avoided
2. Potential Collaborators, bribed units, double agents
3. rejoining/reforming with old combat units
II. Extra-Combat Emplacements
1. Consider and attack potential bonus objectives
2. Risks must be highly calculated and if plausable, taken. We're taking the fight to them, and we need to be as aggressive as possible, but that doesn't mean we can get careless.
1. New Combat gear for all field soldiers
a. Portable rations/MREs and water stocks for daily combat
b. Combat supplies, such as munitions, weapons, food, shall be kept in a continuously renewing pool
3. Positive Inductment Serum Injections
4. "Common Sense" Enemy Confrontations
A. Courteous Treatment and Troop Dispositions
a. Application of Geneva Conventions
b. Proper, but not excessive regard to all beings
c. Smile and Run Tactics
d. Mild comingling may occur with bribed POWs
B. Artificial Selection
a. Only the most ideal, malleable POWs shall be brought close to our inner sanctums
b. Mild alliances will be formed with semi-ideal subjects
C. State of Emergency Responses
a. Highly Fortified positions are only to be confronted with allies
b. Individuals suspected of volitile, sacriligous, unethical behaviors are to be avoided, ideally
c. In inescapable situations, bravely confront the beligerents and prepare for potential evac
In about a month and a half, my Tenth Year of combat will begin.
My last two years, were spent wandering around blindly. Making the same mistakes over and over. Never moving out of my vacuum-packed shell of world. My entire life, I have lived in isolation. Only very recently have I properly become aware and bothered by this. During my Eighth Combat Year, I was isolated and miserable, yet unable to explain why or how this was. I didn't understand my emotions properly during this period. Every year of my life prior to that, I wasn't bothered by lack of companionship. I cruised along somehow. Maybe the desire for forming lasting bonds begins during adolescence, right as puberty is taking off.
I coped through my Eighth Year pretty well. I just did what I always did through most of it, never noticing or being able to address my underlying problems. I didn't bother asking for help, I honestly didn't know I needed it, and was mostly unaware of matters. I didn't know how people worked. I didn't know how I worked.
But my Second Semester proved to the most grueling by far. The next five months of my life would be the worst. I was terribly ill at times, insecure, angry, isolated, underweight and possibly losing some too. Physically and mentally weak, shy, repressed, oppressed, ashamed, depressed. I felt awful.
Around March, things were only getting worse. I don't want to dig into too much of what happened (I can't hardly remember it myself) but my condition was worsening. I was truly suffering. No one to help me, and it never occurred to me to ask for help. I could have ended the pain quicker had I reached out.
The only thing to keep me going was the knowledge that Middle School was going to be over soon. I only had to endure for about 2½ months longer. I could do it. And, of course, I made it across the red tape, disheveled and scarred from cynicism and pain, but alive, and ready to recover.
Summer came and went. I made some plans, but failed to follow through on many of them. Most weren't too serious anyway, and I didn't fully devote myself. I can't even remember what they were. I probably just did the usual summer stuff.
My biggest regret about that summer is that I didn't properly mentally prepare myself for the coming year. I had this highly-idealistic vision that I would be cool and popular. That every thing was going to be great. I thought the kids, the classes, the experience, everything was going to be great. And I accepted this as reality. At the time, I thought this was reality. But my awakening would shock my like a bucket of icy sharp water. My awakening and realization was sudden and painful.
I was right about some things. My predication that a large portion of the Buller population would move away was correct. But I failed to account for lots of other things. The Bullers were replaced and then some.
My biggest mistake was that my isolation would continue. I had not changed, my peers had not changed, the artificial nature of school society was mostly the same. The main difference being that people simply left you alone in high school.
This I was eternally thankful for. In middle school, you'd get ridiculed for being wrong, different, outspoken, and sometimes for no clear reason at all. No justifiable reason anyway. I sometimes got bullied, physically harassed, but it never got too serious, thankfully. In a modern, western school, you get shunned for being this way. I had my own group of friends (all in band, which I was never a part of) that I hung out with, but when I re-evaluate my memories, it's clear that I was never truly a friend to them. Just a nice guy who was just 'there.' I was an outsider even while I was on an inside. I blame my upbringing for this. That coupled with my highly inward personality made forming lasting bonds impossible. No one was there to guide me. Realizing this was the first big step. One of my goals for this year is to try to bust into the seemingly concrete social sphere.
In high school, all of the social consequences are the same as in middle school, you become outcasted if you do not ingratiate yourself into a clique immediately. The most apparent and powerful effect is that you are ignored.
I was actually happy about this. 98% of the students at my school are jerks. I was ignored by them (mostly, I still had to watch my back and make a conscious effort to avoid trouble) and that was good thing, I thought. I was right, it was great that jerks ignored me. But I was ignored by almost everyone. No chance at socializing with new faces. No chance at true, meaningful companionship.
I realized this pretty early in the school year. I was absolutely crushed. I was to be entrapped in a cold, frictionless, loveless, vacuum for ten months of my life.
I found new, unique ways of coping during this time. I learned and changed in many ways. While stunted and discouraged by minimal social contact, I managed to trudge on through soggy mud banks and stormy skies. I'll admit, I felt very sorrowful and low at times, and I still do occasionally to this day, but I always managed to find something to keep me going. Still there were lots of mistakes made during this time. My ability to self-reflect and change was limited at some points. I didn't know how to laugh off and deal with pain and petty attacks and to sustain a stable level of happiness.
I was shaped by very many things in my environment. I changed a lot. I grew and matured as a person. I like the way I'm developing now. I have learned and am still learning the fundamentals I was never taught and few other things along the way.
I have a few interests that sparked my curiosity and imagination and I pursue them whenever I can.
The only thing really holding me back is my personal doubts and insecurities. I understand them well. I know where my fears stem from. And yet they still scare me. But I will need to ignore my fears and doubts and just take the plunge. There isn't much to calculate here. I blundered terribly last year and the year before that, because I was afraid of risks that would seriously affect my life. I have disciplined myself and now know what I need to do.
Just take that plunge...
This reminds of an Art of War quote:
"Place your army in peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety." - The Nine Situations
More Intel and Nicaraguan updates soon, as developments occur.
- Your Great Leader
So hay's the thing, I am back! In about a month, school shall be recommissioned!
But it's not the same school. I have left the hell-hole that is Monroney and will now move up a notch to MCHS. I realize that is too early to bull about actual school wiggerings so I will leave that out for now. However, I need to start preparing for the upcoming school year.
Almost all of the clothing has been acquired, anything else will be optional. Shoes are a must however. Tomorrow I shall head out to Nicaragua to search for my elusive prize: Puma joggers. I will settle for something close to that if shit hits the fan (which is a very likely possibility).
Aside from the physical shit I need to get, I have a lot to say on what I learned from last year. Okay, not really. So, I must confess, I did some dumbass shit last year which further shittified my middle school experience. There are a million mistakes I know I will not make again. I will be more competent, more badass! I will be hardened and confident! AYE! There is no n****ring me, you Monroney fuckers! Gahh. Words alone cannot describe my competence. I am competent. That's all you need to know.
This year can't be worse than last year, that's impossible. Apart from the reasons I just listed, there are so many other variables that are in my favor.
The faculty bastards won't be as bad. I have a chance to start with a clean slate with all of them. As for the students, well there are two main reasons why they won't be as bad.
1. They'll be more mature. I am certain of this because during the very end of 8th grade, people were showing signs of turning into respectable people, fit for society. Now, granted, they'll still be assholes for a while, but they will get better as the school year goes on.
2. Reduced chances of encountering bastards. The leap from middle school to high school is a big one. Like Normandy, not everyone makes it out alive.
They'll be people that go to other schools. They'll be people that will be on Pre-AP/regular and they'll be different teams (at least 2, I am certain). This cuts the chance of me having to bull with a buller by 75 percent! And assuming that 5-10 percent move, the chances of me being in a class with an unsavory bastard is only 20 percent! And that's the minimum shit! BASIC ARITHMETIC FTW.
1:5 = Faggot/Decent Ratio
I also know of a mega-bitch that is changing schools. Thank god for God. Just one person, but one less buller in the world is a good thing. Right? And they'll be others.
I am sure of it.
I have clearly failed to update. This is mostly due to laziness and lowered morale thanks to school.
1st Hour - Geometry: I have this buller named Mrs. Dodd. She is kind of a fag, as far as her personality goes. Dodd really likes micromanaging and correcting people, like the bitch that she is. But she isn't bad as a teacher. Unlike most classes, I actually learn things from her class.
Over the past three months we've been learning basic geometry BS. The expansive and broad areas this class covers includes:
* Pointless Shit
But seriously, I actually learn advanced CAWGNITIVE bull. Examples include, inductive and deductive reasoning, basic logic and other cognitive gold mines! It's boring as fuck, but at least my mind doesn't feel like its melting like it does in my other classes.
2nd Hour - Biology I: Mr. Chong is the name of my faggy Biology I teacher. He is a fucking asshole who is rude to all of his students. But this is only because all of the students are assholes themselves. Chong will get on anyone who acts like a fag. Fortunately, I am the only one in the class with any brains, so I know to not get on his bad side. How do you not get on his bad side?
1. Do your work.
2. Shut the fuck up.
3. Don't say stupid things.
I live by these very rules.
Anyways, his class is super boring and breaks down into three main parts. A typical 5-day week goes something like this...
The first three days are spent reviewing for a test. The class sits there and takes notes and accepts any handouts given to it. They cram as much information as they can into paper and their heads.
On the fourth day, the actual test is taken. It is usually a hellish 40-50 question monster. The class average for these motherfuckers is a D.
But there is a silver-lining. He let's us put notes on a 3x5 index card that we can look at while we take our test. He also adds bonus questions at the end of the test. This bumps my grade a good 10-15 points each time.
By day 5 we get our test results back. Got a shitty grade? No problem. Chongie will let you perform test-corrections in an effort to up your grade. Unfortunately, this only boosts your grade by 5-10 points. But even that isn't worth it, because we have to do fuckton of work just to yield a few extra points.
So that sums his class up. That's all we do. In the three months I've been in his class, we've done exactly ONE group/science project.
How's that for mixing it up? THAAAA
3rd Hour - World Geography: My third hour is fucking fail. The class is a fail and so is the teacher, Mrs. Young, who ironically, is quite old. Her class is so fucking retarded that I don't even want to get into it. It makes me want rip my hair out just thinking about how fucking boring it is. Basically, all we do is 5th grade work, in a Pre-AP class. That's what it reminds me of: 5TH FUCKING GRADE. This is the exact-same shit I did as an elementary school student.
On the bright side, her class is only a semester long. Next year, I'll have History, with Coach Blasingame, who I've heard is cool.
4th Hour - Freshman Success/Financial Literacy: In fourth hour, I have the dumbest, most useless piece of shit for a teacher. He is a boring, unintelligent heap of white fucking trash. His dumbass should be fired and destroyed. He is known as, Coach Vermillion. AKA Faggot Fondler.
We learn nothing and do even less in his class. It's essentially just a pointless time-filler. No one takes it seriously, not even the teacher. FF once proclaimed that our work was "just to keep us busy."
5th Hour - German: Hibbard is a baller. Nothing more needs to be said.
6th Hour - Art: My teacher, Mrs. Harden is a total dumbass at first, but you get used to her and get used the environment, which is surprisingly comfortable.
7th Hour - English: Boring, but at least I gain things from Collier's competence. This is also one of the three classes I actually have *friends to talk to.
* Not that I have any real friends. All of my high school relationships are superficial and constricted.
I would describe my morale as stagnant. Although my life is horrible and pointless, I have managed to keep it from slipping further and further. I am stuck in a rut that is impossible to get out of. I may be stuck like this for the whole year. Fortunately, I have developed a coping strategy.
I'd like to start off by telling what yesterday was like, the day before fall break. The day started off terribly.
Abz and I engaged in a bastardly conflict, in which both parties bulled out. Abz bulled out more though. In short, abz got pissed and wouldn't drive. We left 7-10 minutes later than usual.
This has been happening a lot: me and abz fighting. This is entirely my fault. I have been extremely stressed and frustrated for the past month or so, and it just keeps on piling. Abz shows no sympathy so I get even more mad at him. And he wonders why I'm upset all the time. I can't even explain this to anyone.
I make it to school, right as encore (homeroom/study hall) is starting. I can't go to Dodd's Geom class because she closes the door at 7:45 AM and doesn't open it until eight, when 1st hour starts. So for encore I go in the library and I start to work on my art project for Dodd.
I get the foundations for my project done, just as the bell rings. I gather my shit (all 21 pounds of it) and I trudge out for Dodd. Once I arrive, I immediately start hustling to finish the project. And then I realize something, this is the day before fall break. A "free day" as many teachers were calling it. We didn't do shit in her class.
We watched Transformers 3: Dark Side of The Fag for the first three hours of school. This gave me more than enough time to finish my project and turn it in. The movie sucked ass, btw.
As I watched the shitty movie, I wondered why I came to school, on this especially pointless day. The only reason I came up with: if I turned it in on Monday, the project would have been late and I would have lost a lot of points. That's all I could come up with.
After Doddo, it was already 4th Hour. I dragged myself to Vermillion's Dumbass Class and sat down. All we did was watch a sports movie (We Are Marshall) and then left for lunch. Vermillion is very fond of sports movies, it's all he ever watches, thus reinforcing the fact that he is a douchebag.
At lunch I got a surprisingly large lunch: Lasanga, salad, and a crappy-tasting-cake-thing. I ate all of the lasagna and little bit of everything else. MCHS prides itself on quantity over quality. Shitty over shiny.
Once I finished my shit lunch, I rushed for the library. This had become routine for me: going to the library after lunch. It is the only place I can go to for solitude from the bullers and bastards. It's so quite there, unlike the commons, and I can read in peace. On this particular day, two of my douchebag friends walked in, for some reason, and bulled around. Fortunately, lunch was over so I didn't have to tolerate them very long.
Along comes 5th Hour, which would usually be a good time, thanks to Hibbard. But not today. Hibbard had a sub. And so, we worked on a gigantic-packet for the whole hour, at least everyone else did; I just sang to myself.
In 6th Hour, I worked diligently on my art the whole time I was there. Not too bad, since I was kept busy, although the people I sit with are obnoxious and stupid, more so than the rest of the student body.
7th Hour arrives and saves me. Sort of. Collier already told us that we wouldn't do anything in his class (a "free day") so I looked forward to bull-around opportunities. I talked to bullers for the whole hour, unable to get any work done, but oh well. Nothing too interesting happened here, except I noticed a recurring trend.
Whenever I talk to people about a serious (or semi-serious) subject, I tend to delve into details and end up talking a lot. While I am in the middle of my marathon-explaining, I often get rudely interrupted.
For example, I am having an A - B convo. C and D are over here. C, out of now where, starts talking to A. A, being the stupid-ass that he is, will stop listening to me and start talking to C. B (in this case, me) is stuck there waiting for C to shut the fuck up.
This is why I hate talking to people: THEY WON'T LISTEN. They are so fucking rude. They won't listen to you for more than a few seconds, before they get distracted and talk to the next motherfucker. Everyone is like this. Everyone. There is not a SINGLE person in my fucking grade that doesn't do this shit.
Before I knew it, class was over and with it the school day. I left in a hurry and never looked back.
This is just a day in my miserable and increasingly isolated existence. I have no idea when it will get better. I have done all I can do, I have taken steps on improving myself physically and mentally, I have occupied myself with art, books and music. But my resources and capabilities are limited. There are certain things I can't do just because I'm 14. I can't get a job. I can't drive. I can't move out.
Maybe one day, something will fall from the sky and save me from this hell.
Now that I've had some downtime from the hell of middle school, I'd like to evalute my time at Monronez.
Fun Fact: Too lazy to finish.
Sixth grade was a time of great wiggering. I can remember me being a noob at first, not knowing where anything was. "Excuse me, can you tell me where Shop 2 is?"
In comparision to the other two years, it was the least carkassy. Everyone was a noob and didn't know everyone. Bastas were nicer and they weren't scarred by the things they would later see. Sixth grade was a bloody joke. We didn't learn arse and most of our time was spent throwing parties, eating, and being fags the whole time.
My elementary school teachers constanly hounded us saying bull, which was along the lines of this: "Oh, you guys rly need to get ready for 6th grade, cuz yall is the leaderzs of the fucking school and you need to set the examplzroz for younga grades, yall hear! Teh shit is gonaa hit da damn fan in sizth gradesz!" But that wasn't the case. Sixth grade was identical to fifth grade, only now we had more classes. I lived in a small world in sixth grade and I would bull out even further in the next two years.
My biggest regret was not doing anything with myself. At this point it was not obligatory. I had this "Well, I don't have to, so why should I?" mentality. This was bully and I regretted it. The right people weren't there to offer me wisdom so I just had to figure it out for myself. Aside from bulling out in the future, I didn't realize how much I was affected by school.
I believe it was around fourth or fifth grade when I developed aniexety issues. Being young and incompetent, I didn't even understand it at all. Through my years, I realized that I was probably the only one who was affected like this. I simply assumed it was no big deal and moved on. Now as a former eighth gradian, I understand that suppressing it wouldn't help. It would only exacerbate it. This fear would start to bull me time and time again until eighth grade, when I reached a peak in my suppressed emotions. After subconsciously tolerating three years of utter bullshit, I eventually let my emotions get the best of me. I allowed it to control my actions. It was a silent fear, something that started out small and grew exponentially with each passing year. Think of it this way:
During the beginning of sixth grade say that my anxiety problem is a 5, a number. By seventh grade, it is now 25, much worse but still not a big deal. By eighth grade it was 125. See the pattern?
By not dealing with it properly, it grew too fast too soon. It wasn't a big deal at first, but when it did become one, it was too late to stop it.
By the second semester of eighth grade, I would say that the exponent multiplied it self about every two weeks. I literally started to go mad. Every day would be the same exact bullshit as before. I would walk into class and tense up at the same stuff. This only got worse as the assignments piled up. My grades started to slip during the final key months. No one cares if you did good 90% of the year; it's the end that counts. The bombardment of the test and review burned me out. I lost all of my steam in January and I still had five more grueling months to go. I suffered constantly during this time.
AKA: Gunnery Sergeant Burgess
Status: POW during the end of the 2010; now released
Burgess, or Revered Burgess was the one of the best teachers I ever had. I served in his platoon for the past three years honorably and with great pride. Those times were extremely lulzie and embarrassing at the same time. He was a bastard, but then again which gym teacher wasn't? I learned a lot of things from him. He's a fag, but aye, an honroable bastard indeed! Burgess, I salute you!
Welcome to the final part of 8th grade! The hell is nearly over! UPDATE - 5/18/11: It is over!
The 'Status Reports' section has been abandoned, as it has become cluttered and outdated. Instead, everything will be posted here.
Morale: 78% (Pawptrawpica Boost)
Status: Dieing inside on a daily basis.
Note: Only applicable before 5/18/11
So hay's the thing... today is sat sat....
0100 hours: I have become completely dependent on this class to have time to finish my homework.
After school, I am so bulled out that I can't do it, which makes me wonder why I even bring my books home. I have since then stopped doing this, but I continue finishing HW in Hicky's class.
0200 hours: One the most boring classes ever. Fortunetly, the Tami Shami keeps us busy for most of the hour.
0300 hours: Um. Research paper... *starts* UPDATE - 4/4/11: I forgot to start this. Damn.
0400 hours: Son of a LaHanda! We've been reviewing like crazy sons of faggots for the past 1-2 weeks! (lost track of time)
The EOI and the OCCT are the two big bastards that I need to prepare for.
0500 hours: Boring and balanced.
0600 hours: Had the same seat all year... Lots of people moved... I was never one of them. I get so tired... Just thinking about it fills me with lassitude. I hate Yarholar's class. And Yarholar.
Morale: 34% (hope keeps it afloat)
Via means of this is an Intel report of Friday.
0300 hours: I totez forgot that the thesis/outline is due on Monday! I have hastily assembled some bull at the last second. Although I have been bulled, I will have my thesis. And McDonald is an arse for assigning another DBQ. Document based question. It's essentially an essay with reading, hi-lighting, and question answering.
0400 hours: The reviewing continues. I can't wait for the actual test, so I can get this arse over with.
0500 hours: Melton has done the unthinkable! She assigned a research paper of her own! What the bulling bull! However, it will be much easier in many regards. Such as: Limited # of topics (we have a pool to choose from; I picked NORMANDASIZING), shorter length (2-3 pages), fewer sources, etc.
0600 hours: So recently Yarholar approached me. She said, pointing to the name written on my paper, "Is this the name you would want on an award?" Yes, I replied. I wouldn't want my bastardly first name (which sounds bully in English) on an award.
So yeah. At the end of the year I am apparently supposed to get this lame-ass "student of the year" award (as Yarholar called it.)
On Friday, she went around getting grades and what not, on our one billion facts. Being the rebellious basta I am, I didn't do it; she doesn't take it up 90% of the time, and why does it matter? My grade won't suffer much. I only did a small portion of the work so she said something like "Omfg, Artardous! Why the hell didn't you do this!?? Don't you want the student of the year bull!?"
No Yarholar. I don't.
So hay's the thing: I don't care about superficial awards.
Over the past 3 years I have learned how generic and meaningless these "awards" are. When I first got one I was endeared as hell. But now I've accumulated 20+ awards all printed on the same kind of paper. Dime a dozen? I think so. And then everyone else in the school gets around 2-3 of these as well. This is so everyone feels "special." Gay. You need to let people know that they suck sometimes.
Also, what do these awards represent? Oppression? Busy work? Awful memories? Yes. Apart from that, they don't stand for much. Now in this scenario, Yarholar's awards stands for: facts. A year of writing facts and doing worthless assignments that us wiggos gain nothing from.
Nothing in middle school is matters; none of it is relevant to me. Finishing my pointless work that won't mean anything when I'm older is no incentive for me to get some empty award.
So that's why I'm not too excited to get an award. I feel more full-filled getting an easy badge on Konga.
So on Friday, in the morning, I was walking through the hallways, getting to my locker when I bump into some random girl. Now it was an accident, so I didn't purposely do it. Hell, I don't even know who this is, a 6-7 grader probably. Then she gets all pissy.
"What the hell! You is just gonna bump into mah bag like dat!?"
*I ignore her in an effort to avoid making a scene so I just keep walking*
"OOHHHH!!!!!!!" *raises voice* "I shoulda socked him in the face!!!!! GRRRR...." *continues bitching over nothing*
She was black (and hideous) by the way.
Um. So I harmlessly bump into her bag. I didn't kill anyone.
On the other hand, I think she has a point. I may have destroyed the credit on her Swiss bank account. Or perhaps I punctured an organ that was inside of it!? Maybe I pushed a button that launched all of the world's nuclear arms!? OH NOES!
Or maybe nothing happened and it wasn't a big deal.
I see a future whore in the making.
Morale: 8% (being introspective and deep with writing because the year is about to end, hallelujah)
0300 hours: Mickee is totez cruel. We have been reveiwing like crazy for the past week or so, with another week to go.
McDonald has been merciless in his bulling tactics. He has been calling on random wiggos so much that it has re-inspired McDonald Paranoia in me! Not that he calls on me though; he prefers his plethora of leeches to choose from. But hay's the thing: I raise my hand 90% of the time and still he doesn't call me. Then he says something like: "OMFG guys. We. Do. Not. Have. The. Time for this! We have, like, a bloody week of reviewing and that's it! If you're not raising your hand then I assume that you don't know."
But Mickee! I do know! Pick me!
What the bull!? I know that I don't raise my hand as high as the other wiggos, but come on!
0400 hours: LaHonda has been lazier than usual. Today, for instance, she ordered a smart basta (okay, not smart but he's good at math, maybe even better than me? *swallows pride*) to go up to the board and bassicaly teach the class for her. WTF
Really LaHanda? You suck that much? Now I don't know that exact reasoning for this:
Did she learn this tactics at one of her gay staff meetings? Is she a skank? Is she lazy and stressed out?
I think it is a combination of all three to create the ultimate arsiness experience.
Also, LaHonda doesn't know how to teach. She continually struggles to understand the material, which is quite pathetic: the math teacher not knowing how to do math... She always complains about how her life sucks: NEWS FLASH LAHONDA, ours sucks too!
0500 hours: It seems we've developed a trend of going to the library on Wednesdays for our research paper bull. It's a load of arse, but fun since we can actually talk.
A wiggo in there (the MIA) expresses his ignorance with arsiness. His unawaredness of every subject imaginable (and mispronunciation of the word 'strategic') makes me lol and get pissed at the same time.
0600 hours: This class is so bulling boring. We've been reviewing a ton of arse and writing facts + copying worksheets like crazy. She dishes out work like crazy, convincing me to boycott the majority.
Yarholar also spews out useless facts and tells us expired info, in an effort to make everyone a germ-phobic, hypochondriac, ignorant piece of trash like herself.
Relevant Question: SW, did she wear latex gloves to distribute papers when you were at monronez?
So hay's the thing: I feel emotionally drained (learned new phrase recently) from school. Every day is the same damn bull over and over and over again. Y'know the cardio workout thing I started a while back? Well, I recently stopped. Not because I don't have the willpower, but the lack of energy. I feel more and more tired as the days drag on. I feel like collapsing when I get home. Even if I get the proper amount of sleep, it doesn't seem to make a difference; the thoughts at the back of my mind are always stressing me, making me feel more tired.
I get a sour feeling when I get up in the mornings, knowing that all I have to look forward to is 7 hours of droning.
Teachers don't understand the bull us (mainstream) teenagers go through. They decided to bull us even more than usual by cramming a YEAR'S worth of teaching, in ONE BLOODY WEEK!!!!!! We should have have started reviewing for our state tests the moment we got back from spring break, instead of the very last second. Screw the bastards who decided to do this.
Morale: 0% (absolute zero)
So morale has been dead for a while now. The repetitive schedule, asshole kids, and me bulling out like the bullout I am, has contributed to this massive loss of morale. I have now started to regret not doing anything else with my life (extracurricular, etc) that could distract me from the bastardliness of day to day life. But then again what could I do? Nothing at Monronez interests me at all. They are all quite gay, and besides, they are all filled with wiggos I don't know/like.
We were placed into groups in Melton's recently. I was with a quiet girl, a fat ass blond, and a jock.
Now hay's the thing about me: I don't talk much. At all really. But there many reasons for this:
1. I never sit by anyone I know/like. Pretty straight forward, thanks to assigned seats I have no control of who I can talk to. I also sit in dumb arse locations. I bet teachers use me as a "buffer" that separates loud mouthed idiots. Also, I am not like those bimbores who can communicate to fellow bimbores across the room, using some effed up sign/whispering language.
I always get caught if I talk. When I start talking I expect to engage in a legitimate discussion (see 4), not like the shallow fags who populate the school, so I end up talking a lot if I have a ton of bull to contribute to the convo which is almost always the case.
2. No one listens. They usually just look away or nod their heads slowly, looking at me with blank eyes.
3. They always wait to talk. They always interrupt me and they get impatient easily, as if they have something that they actually need to do in a hurry.
4. I cannot engage in a legitimate conversation in the first place. Um. Yeah, this happens A LOT.
5. I hate them. All of them. Even the revered MIA, who is actually kind of a male bimbo and a fag.
That about sums it up. I am the quiet, weird, smart, funny guy. Not too proud of this.
Now back to our story: the group.
Today the quiet girl was absent so it was just me, the bimbo and the jock.
Now the bimbore kind of pisses me off. She says stupid things all the time *in overly high pitched voice* "Um. Teacher! What does blind people see? Is it, like, clear, or is it not, um, like that?"
So yeah, that is just one example of her being a dumb arse.
So there were these black bitches from another group that (scientific term) tried to elicit a response from me today. One of the skanks waved at me and said "Hi ARTARDOUS!" I waved back to satisfy their voracious craving of arsiness.
Afterwords, they looked at me and started talking about me giggling and laughing all the while. I assume they were making fun of me for whatever reason because the were the gossiping/immature types. I died a little inside. Why do some people feel the need to annoy others just to feel happy? Now, I knew that they were kidding around, because they weren't mad or anything, but it still bothers me how they start talking about me like the sluts that they are.
They tried to say hi to me again but I ignored it; they stopped after this. However the ignoring tactic only worked because they were far away. If they were next to me I would have to confront them, which is what I would have done.
Okay, now to the part with my actual groups.
After class the stupid blond started asking me tons of questions in quick succession: "What did you do on the weekend?" "Did you go to the movies?" etc etc. I answered them the best I could.
WTF. She never talks to me and now that she does she suddenly starts pressuring me with a load of arse. After she finishes I taunt her by saying: "Oh, I thought you were going to continue interviewing me." She was like "whateva man."
Then when I look away she says to her gay jock friend "Oh wow, he's not friendly."
UNFRIENDLY!? Unfriendly is asking someone you barely know a ton of probing questions! Who the hell does that!
SW, please justify this if you can.
Note: I am not taking her seriously: this dumb whore gets in trouble constantly for talking (even though she's told to shut up many times) and or course there is the blind thing. *facepalm*
So yeah. Morale is low. I cannot concentrate on anything anymore. I am CONSTANTLY pressured by these asshole teachers: "The test is in a few days so you better study 6346 pages of work and write 2-3 pages a day per class!!!!!!" - Every fucking teacher except for Melton
Then there are the two research papers: what the hell. By the time all of this reviewing is done, the year will be over, and the papers will also be due! I have literally done NOTHING (except for the outline) and I doubt anyone else has either. I am wondering if any one will actually do it. If I don't it means my grade dropping by about 10-12 points which is bad, as you may have guessed. He will also grade it harsher (as if last time wasn't bully enough) than the last paper.
Summary: I hate my life.
SW, please share your thoughts on this post.
Morale: 0% (still dead)
I bueller'd on Friday. I lost one of the nose pads to my glasses. They would have shredded my poayer skin. It was twelve by the time it was fixed (had to drive) so I thought to take the rest of the day off. I needed a break. Unfortunately, due to my bewildered and demoralized state, I did nothing productive.
I am sick of all the dumb arses in Monronez. They act soo mature because they're 8th graders. Bullshit. I can't even begin to describe all of the crap that they spew out everyday, that I am forced to mentally ingest. I am almost afraid of catching their stupid.
Yarholar: "Um. So spell Cnidarian?"
Good speller: "C-N-I-"
Dumb bitch who opens her mouth without thinking: "NO NO! IT STARTS WITH A n, you idiot!"
Yarholar: "Um. No it doesn't..."
Dumb blond: "Isn't that in Seattle, California?"
Dumb Redhead: "Why is that quarter so small in the book? It's much bigger in real life."
Yarholar: "It's drawn to scale, dear."
Dumb Redhead: "Oh."
Dumb ass blond: "CINDER BLOCKS! THEY USE CINDER BLOCKS! UM TEACHER! ARE YOU LISTENING! CINDER BLOCKS! CINDER BLOCKS! TEACHER! THEY USE CINDER BLOCKS FOR DECORATING?! RIGHT! AMIRIGHT!?
Ignorant dumb ass blond whore: "Oh, I listen to all kinds of music! Yepp! All kinds. Except tock and roll and Mozart."
Yeah right. This whore probably only listens to a small portion of music. She thinks she is so fucking deep but she is as blind as any other asshole at monroney.
Me throughout the day: *mental facepalm*
So that is what it is like in a classroom: rude, obnoxious kids that shout and complain like 2 year olds. They instigate constantly, I've even heard someone say "Oh hold on, I'm going to try to start something."
Now I know that they are just kids and all, but wtf? I don't act like this. I am the only one who realizes this. No one else does and I know this because they don't even try to change the way they act. They all continue to be stupid and immature even thought they know the consequences it brings.
I truly wish I didn't have to hear all of they shit that they say. It takes a piece out of me when people talk behind others backs and about me. I, unfortunately, hear all of this. Others don't. They can somehow block out the mean things others say. But I can't. I hear EVERYTHING. I really envy the deaf for this reason. Ignorance truly is bliss.
In other news, I have begun to realize that I have a lot of repressed anger. It has built up the entire year, but only about a month or two ago, did I realize the physical and emotional damage it has caused. I've developed strange mannerisms: squeezing of fingers, pinching myself, scratching, etc. My thoughts become extremely negative and distorted. I can't think clearly, I can't see or hear clearly. My entire body constantly aches. I yearn for relief, to be free of the fucking hell hole that is monroney. I get too mad too easily. I would describe my anger as smoldering wood. It may appear to be put out, but a small spark will set it ablaze again.
I keep putting things off. "Oh, I'll have time for that once school it out." Why can't I do it now? Because I am constantly stressed out. I have stopped taking care of my self. I have more time than I think, yet I can't do anything different apart from my usual routine shit. I wander around like a zombie.
I am unsure of everything: I swallow my words, I just sit there when I should do something about it, I don't know what to do because I am so confused.
Physically, I am also being destroyed. My blood pressure has skyrocketed. I try to run but it is hard since I am so tired from being stressed, angry, and sad. I am constantly nervous and tense. I am fidgety and cold. Depressed all the time. Things that I thought were once fun and enjoyable are now boring. I have zero patience now.
I have nothing to believe in right now. I don't even know how summer will help. Sure, it means no school, but I will still trapped in the prison of my own mind.
Hello CaptainSW! I have good news! For the first time in nearly 2 months my morale has increased to a substantial level! After grieving and being depressed during the weekend, I have decided I need to tackle the situation, one piece at a time. Few school days remain and fewer scenarios remain. If I can hold on long enough for evac, I will make it out of Monroney!
I give you...
The List O' Burdens
In order of approximate occurrence
1. English OCCT - ETA: 4/27/11
Um. I will totez beast this without any trouble at all.
Requirements: Brain, limited amount of sleep, zero review
2. Math OCCT - ETA: 5/4/11
This will be slightly bully, but LaHandear's constant reviewing should help. Plus, I have excellent mathematical reasoning.
Requirements: Brain, sleep, exercising (physically), review
3. Mickee D's Research Paper - ETA: 5/9/11
I've obtained 6 books over the Prohibition era. I have a solid plan and I've already started reading the bullaires. Research will continue non-stop for the next two weeks.
Requirements: Time, patience, brain, plan, researching skills
4. Math EOI - ETA: 5/11/11
Same as Math OCCT.
Requirements: See 'Math OCCT'
So that is all of the arse I have to bull with. Hopefully this week isn't as bully. And SW, you still owe me a bloody comment.
Fun Story: Remember Melton's research paper? Well, I totez forgot about it until now, the day before it's due. Total bullout. In my defense though, she never talked about it. Seriously, we went over it once, and that very briefly. Oh well, a 0 won't actually CARKASS my grade that much.
Morale: 63% (undying Woota spirit)
So its been two weeks. Lots of wiggerings during that time. I will just skip it and cover the important bits.
0100 hours: I've been working hard early in the morning and during 1st hour to finish my homework. I always finish just in the nick of time. Dumb Story: I achieved (for the 2nd or 3rd time this year) a gay-ass student of the month award.
0200 hours: The Tami is very bully. And I is still bored by her antics!
0300 hours: So Mickee is an assface. Um. He said he would be gone today, so I was like "YESSS!!!!! NO MICKEE!!!!!!" But I was later bulled since that fag forced us to day 4 worksheets (as busy work.) They were super arsy because they made made numbers like 15,446, 24,245, and 23,826 together w/o a calculator. Nightmarish I tell ya. I didn't have to suffer through this kind of futility since the 5th grade.
The Research paper is due on the 9th, which is Monday. I've started on it but its gonna take a lot of time to finish the bastard. If this is going to be that hard for me, imagine how hard it'll be for the other dumbasses? I am 10x smarter/mature than those assholes so I know they will fail. I can't wait until Monday so I can see my stupid peers get chewed out by the bastardly Mickee! :D
0400 hours: We've been taking ~25 question practice tests every bulling day for about a month. The revieing bull has continued non-stop since then. I think there is such a thing as too much review. I feel burnt out. But I will own this test. I promise. Albeit, others might not do so well. After taking our daily practice test, we go over every question individually. My question correctness ratio is about 1 : 25. Other wiggos bull out on nearly every question. They fail at early 7th grade stuff. And now 8th grade is nearly over. What a bunch of losers. I hope they all fail so they have to retake it. Why do these idiots get into Pre-AP? I do hope I don't see many of their faces again.
In other news, my grade has been skyrocketing. From my last three transcripts the trend has been 84 > 86 > 88. BEAST. More good news: If I pass/ace (the latter is more likely) the OCCT/EOI, my grade will go up a letter grade! Woo! I could evade this Bastardly B yet!
0500 hours: The research paper for Melton's has bulled out a lot. When it was supposed to be due, she said "Oh, it'll be due next week." I rushed and finished it all in a day because I forgot about it until the night before it was due. Fast forward Monday: "Oh, it'll be due on Tuesday".
Um. So I panicked all for nothing? I went back, revised it and turned it in on Tuesday.
I didn't have to, albeit. Melton disappeared for most of the period so I could have kept it. Also, I only saw 2 other wiggers turn it in so I assume everyone was taking their sweet time just like I did.
0600 hours: Yarholar is a fucking skank. So for the entire year I've had the same damn seat. I sit at the back of the classroom in a certain point I like to call the Artardous Void. Now, to avoid being called on by Yarholar you must meet certain requirements:
* Have a wierd/non-American name. I easily quialify for this one. Most of my teachers can barely pronounce my name, so they never call on me, even if I always raise my hand. I feel discriminated.
So Yarholar is one of these teachers.
* Sit in an fucked up location. I sit in this very spot.
* Have a strange personality. Me as well. Tags: Quiet, funny, ignored, "OMFG, DID HE ACTUALLY TALK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!", bulled-out, sleepy, etc.
Now to my point. This is my theory to why no one calls on me. Because of my name. I've looked into this for the better part of my school career (only now it has become more prevalent) so I am certain I am correct.
So pros to this: I can sleep right in front of Yarholar; she won't say anything, I don't have to pay attention, I don't have to do anything she says. Basically, I don't exist.
Cons: being ignored.
Yarholar only knows my name because I am going to get some shitty award at the end of the year. Screw that bitch.
Morale: 4% (morale may be lost; but the hope never diminishes)
I have just experienced one of the most demoralizing day of my career. And the fat-ass blond bimbore was responsible.
In 5th hour I was just sitting at the front of the class, bulling with bingo. Then the dumbass blond bimbore, for no reason, starts pushing me forward, trying to start something like the instigating bitch she is. The first time, I kindly tell her to stop. She doesn't comply. I scoot back and she bulls out. The battle continues on for a while when I lose it. I impulsively threw her bingo card on the ground. A huge commotion starts and she demands that I pick it up. I refuse while the whole class and Melton bullaire at each other. People start saying I had anger issues and that I was a terrorist. Melton tells her to stop being a bitch and stop bullairing my desk. But she continued. Melton made no effort to enforce the law at this point.
At this point I was out of options.
I couldn't sock her in the face like she rightfully deserved. She was a girl and besides, I'd literally get arrested. Telling her to stop did nothing. I cannot hold her back from pushing me; she weighs about 500 pounds while I weigh a modest 120. And bitch Melton took no initiative to the situation.
Afterwords, I stayed there, literally shaking in rage. I hate how powerless I am. In school, I have no choice or say in anything I do. I have to sit there and tolerate this bullshit. No one can help me and I can't do anything. I can't even help myself.
I just might develop anger issues.
Morale: 0% (re-dead-ified)
I was coudn't sleep last night. I lay there contemplating on whether or not to go to school. I was tired as a bastard, I could barely keep my eyes open. This week's testing was over. And there was nothing special or important about Friday. There was no reason to go to school today. Also, if i didn't go, I would my miss my third Friday in a row, keeping the winning streak alive! But no. I, for some reason, decided to drag my arse out of bed and get ready. I regret doing that, since I would later realize that laying in bed all day would be more productive than going to school.
The day went by like usual, being bored in my electives, listening to McDonald rant and take more practice tests in LaHonda's. During 5th hour and onwards, until the day was over, we would go to some gay-ass 8th grade party. "Because of all of our hard work during testing!" - Reynolds
Reynolds, spare me. School could have been 2 weeks long, filled with the amount of reviewing we are doing now, and we would have gotten the same result. The tests are EASY, loaded with 6-7 grade arse. A bloody waste of time if you ask me.
So yeah. After lunch we had the option to get in a line and get cake. Cake. Wow. I would have, but there was a damned long line in my way. I said bull this and moved on. We we probably won't get that much cake anyways.
I was right. I noticed that other wiggos only received a sad sliver of cake. Not the hearty slice those fatties were hoping for. That's the school trying to be cool, but failing miserably due to their bastardlyness.
Then in 5th hour we went in the gym and bulled around there. We could bull with basketball, volleyball, or pingpong. They were also playing Diary of a Wimpy Kid in the mat room but no one watched it, possibly because it appeals to 8 year olds?So I didn't plan what I would do, nor did I sign up, so I just bullaired in the bleachers. I would look at other bastards play and walked around, but I mostly bored and just sat there. My so-called friends loyally abandoned me to fend for myself. I could have chased them around, but what's the use?
I don't like any of them anyway. Not even the loyal MIA. I've recently tried to have a decent back-and-forth argument (an argument in which the contenders exchange vicious blows until the other submits. These are not personal attacks and they are purely done for the amusement of both parties) with him and all he did was give me arse answers. He never answered anything and he took everything literally. He responds with a smug nod and he genuinely shows how stupid he is by giving me narrow-minded responses. He always finds a way to justify his stupid logic. To sum up, he is a pretentious idiot. And yes, I am giving him a chance but he continues to be an asshole, an Anti-Wootist if you will. I was going to help him with Mickee's research paper, but I would rather watch him crash and burn. Sadistic, I know, but that's not the only reason why he and his friends are a bunch of douches. I will leave that as my example and move on.
So after I while of following faggots, I sit down and I wait it out. You didn't need to sign up for the volleyball thing but I decided not to: I was sore and tired as arse from yesterday. I remained boyard when I resumed the futile chase. I also signed several year books, but I pity the bastards who bought them. 40 bucks is a freaking ripoff. I know it's printed on "high-quality arse" and that it is "colorful" and crap but what the bull!? I estimate that 2 out of 5 bastards had one. K. So. Let's talk! Logistics!
There were at least 20 people up in the line to buy year books at any given time, each bastard dishing out 40 bucks a pop. 20x40. $800 was there initial profit. HOLY BULL! In one wave of dummies, Moronez can rake in more than enough money to pay for all of the snacks and equipment they provided. And that was just the initial swarm of bastards. They were selling this bull for about an hour. Monronez could have netted in more than 2 grand! These Monroney bastards sure know how to play these suckers! The leader of the yearbook monopoly being Tami, the infamous bastard.
So at the end of the day what do you have to say? I have friends. But they all suck.
Morale: 78% (Pawptrawpica Boost)
Middle school is now over. The Hell that came with it, likewise. An understatement to say the least.
But I am now free. Words cannot describe my (endeared) emotions.
Goodbye Captain, MuckTodd and all the others.
[End of Transmission]
The real song here. Please open in new tab.
Tonight, I'm going to have myself a real Soft Pongo
I feel alive, alive, alive... and the MONO has turned upside down, yeah
Ventricle Dominance has been achieved...
So don't bull me now, don't bull me
'Cause I'm bulling around now, bulling around now!
I'm a Fango Dango bullin' through the skies
Like a bastard, defying the laws of Wiggerdom
I'm a Uloo Ka Putach, passing by like Lady MONO
I'm gonna bull bull bull
There's no bulling me!
I'm bulling through the skies, yeah!
Two hundred degrees that's why they call me Mr. MONOheit
I'm bulling at the speed of light
I wanna make a super-sonic MONO out of you!
Don't bull me now, I'm having such a good Fongo
I'm having a Dongo,
Don't bull me now
If you wanna have a good time, just bull around!
Don't bull me now ('Cause I'm bulling around now)
Don't bull me now (Yes I'm bulling around now)
I don't want to bulloooouuuut!
I'm a Faggot Fanger on its way to Mars
On a CARKASSING course
I am a MONOlight, I'm out of control
I am a wigger machine ready to reload
Like a Pawa Bomb about to
Wao, Wao, Wao, Wao explode!
I'm bulling through the skies, yeah!
Two hundred degrees that's why they call me Mr. MONOheit
I'm bulling at the speed of light
I wanna make a super-sonic CARKASS out of you
Don't bull me, Don't bull me, Don't bull me
(BULL, BULL, BULL)
Don't bull me, Don't bull me
Od, Od, ODZ! (I bull it!)
Don't bull me, Don't bull me, (Have Shuda, a Wuda)
Don't bull me, Don't bull me
I'm bulling through the skies, yeah
Two hundred degrees that's why they call me Mr. MONOheit
I'm bulling at the speed of light
I wanna make a super-sonic MONO out of you
Don't bull me now, I'm having such a good Fongo
I'm having a Dongo,
Don't bull me now
If you wanna have a good time, just bull around!
Don't bull me now ('Cause I'm bulling around now)
Don't bull me now (Yes I'm bulling around now)
I don't want to buuuuuulllloooouuut