L'école qui J'adore

FalseIndigo: Now I'm stumbling around

eating Cheez-its and marinara sauce

singing,
"MY SOUL HAS HERPES"

There's something remarkable about my school... the jam-packed hallways with their lovely salmon-splatter paint jobs, the girls toting around vodka-spiked Kool-Aid in water bottles, the fact that the theater kids are more popular than the cheerleaders... My high school is certainly not the norm. But it's certainly the best place I've ever been.

If you can get past the whitey-white rich kid feel of it, you can see that it's really a pretty open environment. Sure, most of the kids are racist, sexist, and other discriminatory adjectives that end in "ist", but they're just the jocks and preps and are high most of the time anyway. The people who REALLY rule the school--the "thespians", the AV geeks, the "emo's", the outcasts, the actors and singers and band geeks--they're the people who convinced me to stop hating the human race. Instead of the conformist freaks that I was surrounded by in middle school, I've suddenly been thrown into an environment where the nail that sticks out gets painted vibrant colors and covered in glitter. My school is, somehow, one of the most tolerant places I know. Sure, I still get weird looks from some of the preppier girls when I flaunt my blue hair and chain-and-studs wardrobe, but now I'm in a position where that can amuse rather than depress me. But the teachers appreciate a person's individuality rather than looking at it with sullen disapproval, and I've never once had my compulsive hand-hennaing likened to leprosy in front of the class (which my French teacher actually did do in middle school, much to my trauma.)

It's such an amusing place to be, too. From the dry laughter at everyday life to the downright ridiculous, Barlow has a lot to offer. For example, where else can one overhear a distraught exchange between two guys like this:
Guy 1: The couch! The couch, man!
Guy 2: Don't worry, man, we'll get you a couch!
Another thing I found highly amusing (aside from ridiculous snatches of conversation) was the attire of the girls around me. One day, as my locker barfed its usual assortment of paper, textbooks, and random notebooks all over the floor, I happened to glance up at the herd of gossiping gals next to me. Much to my surprise, they were all clothed in the exact same way: Ugg boots, those roll-down-top Victoria's Secret pants, and North Face jackets, all in various colors. None of them could understand my sudden burst of laughter.

Well, right now I'm pretty much out of ideas of what else to write. This concludes my crappiest rant ever.
Thanks to the Playwrite (is that an OK alias for you? haha) for the quote at the beginning, btw.
And for sharing the couch moment.

FBT OUT.