Tra la la. I'm alive. So, what's new? Hum de dum. Let's tackle the areas one by one, shall we?

School
Not too much to say here. I have two 108's, two 107's, five 100's, and a 98. Z minuses the whole way through, I tell you. Ooh, I'm a National Merit Semifinalist. I suppose that's newsworthy.

Class by class:
Spanish II: boring, teacher is a psychobitch
Chemistry: full of idiots
Band: I reign supreme in the percussion as the section leader, the only senior, and the only girl
Chorus: I just made all-state chorus as a soprano
Government: if I make it the whole year without falling asleep, it'll be an act of God
Art II (independent study): I think I want to minor in art history in college just for fun
English IV: a coaster
Trig/Calc: everybody hates it but me, and I heart trigonometric identities

Religious
I teach 3rd grade religious education (CCD) on Wednesday nights, and I think my kids like me. We alternate weeks of discussion-based learning and hands-on projects, which seems to suit them.

I think the Pope is going to personally congratulate me, as I've somehow managed to convert a hard-core atheist to Catholicism. It's kind of weird because I'm actually a pretty bad Catholic. In fact, lately, I've been downright agnostic. For some reason, though, this girl found me to be the pillar of virtue that led her back to the fold.

Social
I dislike a few people, but I like most all right. I'm feeling rather solitary lately. Cal and I are no longer friends; she got far too petty and gossipy for my tastes.

The Ex and I had a fight recently. He got ahold of my journal after we broke up, read some things he didn't like, and proceeded to freak out on me about them. There were actually two incidents; one dealt with my supposed infidelity, and the other had to do with my religious, political, and personal beliefs. He tore me to pieces, and frankly, I just took it; I was so shocked at some of the things he was saying that I didn't even respond.

For the record, I never even came close to cheating on him (gasp, how dare I enjoy talking to a male who nicer to me in 30 minutes than my then-boyfriend had been in a week). The relationship was imploding, and I made the mistake of talking to a guy I used to have a crush on and realizing that I had more chemistry with him than I did with the then-boyfriend. I did nothing, I said nothing, and I put it out of my mind. However, I mused about the feeling in my journal, and I mentioned that that was probably the point at which I realized that the relationship had to end.

In my defense, the Ex broke up with me; it was a mutual agreement, but he took the initiative. Therefore, while I feel terrible about being attracted to someone else by the tail-end of our relationship, I take solace in knowing that he was plotting to get out even before I spoke to this other guy.

During the ideological debate, I got called "a so-called Christian," "a know-it-all," "too smart for your own good," "naïve" (twice!), and "lacking faith and trust."

Also, from now on, I don't date Republicans.

Work
Here's the big news: I am officially now employed by Big Giant Multinational Company, the lovely company that brings you...uh, "Corporate Pizza Joint" products. I'm a waitress, and I love it. It's the greatest job ever, and I don't really know why. It's kind of stressful, and I'm a pretty shitty waitress right now, but I just adore it.

My only problem so far is this: another server cleared a table for me on my last shift. The guys at that table go to my school, and I was a little insulted to find out that they didn't leave me a tip. I was joking around with one of them today, and I mentioned his transgression. He stared at me before saying, "No, we left a big tip. It was four or five bucks."

Which means the bitch stole my tip. She's worked there just a bit longer than I have, perhaps two weeks, and she's already stealing from the other servers? This is very, very not cool.

I can' t prove anything, and it's only $4, so I don't plan to say anything. I'll be watching carefully, though, and if it happens again, she's going to find herself in a spot o' trouble.

Et Cetera
I'm going to be crazy-busy in October. Between work, school, all-state chorus practice, play practice, pep band, marching band, CCD, an economics seminar, a business project, two art projects, and National Honor Society, I'm pretty much booked solid.

Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Job interview at Corporate Pizza Joint tomorrow at 4:00. Send me good karma. I would adore this job, and I have a worldly wealth of $5.27. Methinks I need employment.

My English assignment tonight was to answer the question: "Do you think you're a good person?"

My answer is: "Compared to whom?"

Every year for homecoming week, my school has different dress-up days. The staple is Pajama Day on Monday. Last year, I found an awesome pair of zip-up rocket ship pajamas on clearance at Target, and they fit my 5'7" frame.

And they have feet.

This, of course, prompts all kinds of comments at school. Most are along the lines of, "Where did you get footie pajamas that big?" Every guy friend I have was unable to control the urge to tell me that I "look hot in footie pajamas" and then guffaw.

A friend told me, "...I can't even look at you." I queried, and she responded, "I mean...well, they're loose, but you can still see curves. There's just something about footie pajamas and boobs that is deeply disturbing."

An Unrelated Conversation
Her: Who sings that song...what's it called? It goes, "I love you, baby, and if it's quite all right..."?
Me: Frankie Valli, "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You."
Him: (jumping into the conversation) What? You can't take your eyes off of me?
Me: Well, of course not. Look at you, you luscious hunk of man.
A beat.
Him: I get that a lot, actually.

The guiltiest you'll ever feel:

You're sitting in his bedroom. He's on his bed, leaning against the wall, and seemingly engrossed in Burnout 3. You're perching cross-legged in a swivel chair. You've got his guitar on your lap, and you absentmindedly pluck the strings and attempt to mimic the hand positions of the chord poster on his wall.

You two sit there for a couple of hours. You talk the whole while about things like abortion and war, homosexuality and evolution, sin and sex. Your opinions never seem to meet; you can understand his point of view, but you don't agree with it. He doesn't really seem to be listening to your side, which is okay, because you're kind of bored and half-assed in your arguments.

Suddenly, he pauses the game, and he looks straight at you.

"Allison?" he asks tentatively. "I just wanted to say that this is really nice. It's been a long time since I've debated someone like this. And with you, it's strange, because I don't get so defensive when I talk about these kinds of topics with you."

He pauses. "I just like this deep conversation. It's...stimulating."

He doesn't know it, but this whole discussion has been frustratingly unstimulating for you. It's his orations, not a debate. You're not at the same level intellectually; he's a science/math kid, you're an English/history kid. Your values aren't the same.

He likes this conversation; he thinks it's deep and stimulating. You're...well, you're bored out of your skull. You're only halfway paying attention.

To be totally truthful, you've spent the time realizing that you'll never be properly able to play a guitar. Your hands are too small.

Hi. I don't care about Hurricane Frances. No, really. I don't live in Florida: therefore, I don't care.

In other news: it's not that people around me are stupid; it's just that my chemistry teacher managed to convince 80% of the class that an apple was an element.

Long, long ago, I posted an entry about a Corporate Pizza Joint waiter who bore a vague resemblance to Vincent Kartheiser. (Yes, I could direct-link to the post itself, but that would require slightly more work on my part. It's May 22nd, about the third entry down. Scroll, you lazy pukes.)

Well, development: said Corporate Pizza Joint waiter is now a friendly acquaintance of mine. I went to a concert with the Ex (back before he was the Ex), and the Ex "introduced" me to Corporate Pizza Joint Waiter. CPJW and I had built up a casual acquaintance via the restaurant by now, and we chatted for a good half-hour.

So, here's my news: remember the insurance job I got at the optician's awhile back? That job kind of fell through at the end of the summer, as I got them all caught up on their insurance, and they had nothing for me to do except tape file folders. It sucked, and it just kind of petered out. I found myself with no job and no money.

During the conversation at the concert with CPJW, I jokingly mentioned that I was broke and jobless, and he jokingly suggested I apply at Corporate Pizza Joint. Four days later, Dad and I stopped in for the (limited-time only!) special pizza, and CPJW handed me an application. His manager got all enthusiastic and made sure that I filled it out and returned it to the counter.

Corporate Pizza Joint called today, and I have to fill out a survey before they call me in for an interview. (CPJW warned me about this--he says it's an ethics survey, and the main thing to remember is "don't steal from your employer.")

Yay for jobs, as I may soon have one. Cross your fingers and send me some good karma.

(Actually, there's also other news about CPJW, but I won't go into too much detail. Suffice it to say that it involves the Ex, a breakup, CPJW asking the Ex's friend about me post-breakup, the Ex reading my freaking journal post-breakup and bitching me out about it, a big ol' fight with lots of hurt feelings, and a generally shitty week. Things are kind of complicated right now.)