Have you ever been in that phase, right on the brink of total and utter exhaustion, when you feel like if you take any small lean in any direction, you'll either fall into a dark, looming abyss or loose consciousness? The kind so profound that your mind is racing impossibly fast in between breathing and exhaling, but you are too sluggish to open your mouth and actually say something to prove that your smarter than you were 48 hours ago when you were completely well rested.

Well, I'm at that stage right now, and it's intoxicating, as well as excruciating.

I know that I shouldn't do this to myself. I push too hard sometimes, and I burn the candle at both ends. Except after you've lit them, you realize to your horror that they aren't candles, they are actually DYNAMITE!
But with this stretching comes a new experience; a new exhilaration. All of these thoughts are racing through my mind with extreme clarity, and I can't type fast enough. Or even fast at all, for that matter.
So I'm sitting at the kitchen counter writing this entry, waiting for some tea to cool down so that I can just Un. Wind. (Sigh....)

I'm just really restless because I've been cooped up in my room all weekend. I've read almost three books (roughly 1,000 pages) and I watched that Sci-fy mini series called Alice. It was really good, by the by.

I went to a debate meeting today, and I realized that I had no idea why I was there. It's not like I'm going to be a lawyer of anything when I grow up. I had to think carefully while the coach blabbed on and on and on and on and on and on and on.... Then I finally came to the conclusion that I was there because I hate to sound stupid, as stupid as that undoubtedly sounds. (Ha ha.. the Irony) And-- (Wait. Maybe irony isn't the right word. Let me think.... Okay, I'm officially too tired to recall my literary terms at this time. Sorry for the inconvenience.)

Any. Way. So. Back on track. I had an insight to share with you. This insight also doubles as a Geometry story. Yayyyy!

People have absolutely no manners now. I mean really, how hard is it to hold open the door for someone, or say "excuse me" when you shove past them? How hard is it for a guy to let a girl go out of the door before him? (cough, cough. That means YOU Peipkorn!) Chivalry is dead. Or almost, anyway. And it makes me sad every single day.

So, here is where the story ties in, although it didn't really make me sad (this time) because it was just too funny. Buy hey, I'm tired. It could just seem really funny to me and be completely weird in reality. Here goes:

I was in Geometry. Duh. And my good friend, "Vent-Absurd" (And, no. That is absolutely NOT a fake name for Jenna Berg, just like "Mr. Crappyman was completely not a fake name for Mr. Capistrand., was turned around in her seat. She wasn't talking to me, because we are never very talkative in Geometry. Or, rather, I'm not very talkative in Geometry. I think Vent-a could strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere if she wanted to. Anyway, she was facing me, or something like that whatever. And then she dropped her pencil.
As it toppled to the ground, it seemed to fall in slow motion. I vaguely recall myself yelling something like, "NOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!" but in that weird, distorted way voices turn when a scene goes into slow motion. And when the pencil hit the ground, there was this loud THUD in my head, like I could ultra-sonically hear it hit the ground. Then everything went quiet.
We stared at the pencil for what must have been five whole minutes, and then we looked at each other. Then back at each other. Then the pencil. With each look we could see the other pleading with their eyes for the other to grab it, because we were so exhausted to reach down and pick it up ourselves. And then we looked up, and an idea sparked.
The pencil had landed right to the side of a fellow classmate, "Trustin' MountHitRear" (Justin Montplesure, this is NOT YOU!). It was laying right next to his hand, which was sagging on the ground because he was slumped in his desk, trying to look cool. I met Vent-a's gaze, and we slowly turned our heads to Trustin'. He remain oblivious.
I was glaring through the back of his head. And when he finally noticed that we were looking at him, his face became panicked. He looked from Vent-a, to me, to the pencil, and then around and around again. All the time I looked at him expectantly. He wasn't really going to make me pick it up, was he? Come on, Trustin'. Do the right thing here.
But he didn't, and it became painfully obvious he wasn't going to do anything. Slowly, I bent my aching, old bones to comply with the level of the floor, and I retrieved Vent-a's pencil myself, all the while cursing Trustin' and his un-chivalrous ways.

See? Wasn't that a good story? Maybe not.

But now that that is over, I have an announcement. By popular demand (thank you Jessi) I will be turning that story I wrote a couple days ago into a multi part story. I'm thankful for all of your enthusiasm, mostly Jessi's. Without her, I wouldn't be continuing it, because, hey. She is popular demand. So thanks.
If you didn't like the story, well. Too bad. Sorry. You don't have to read it if you don't want to.
But as of when-ever I feel like continuing with it, it will continue.
Thank you for reading, sorry about the half-asleep blabber, and make sure to take your allergy meds. They really do help, if in not the way you'd originally intended. (Whoa. Just kidding.)
--Kacie Renn