  Ross is hilarious. “ I’ll be 15 soon! Does that mean I’ll be cool?” “Will you still be Ross?” “Yes…” “Then no.” (Mutual, good-natured laughter) “Psh, Ross Version 15 will totally be cool.” English 10B (not Honors): I gave up with the overachieving shit that left me so completely sad. I am now in regular English and could not love it more. I’ve never had a class with Lauren before now. Our teacher is out of his mind and laughs nervously about everything.
I love you Mr. Campbell! And I love that I have two days to work on a 15-problem assignment. AP World History Honors: I knew no one in this class (as in second-period) except Elliott. Over the summer he started hanging out with Brandon and subsequently now listens to rap and talks like a wanksta-gansta. A friend of an aquateance (Bethany) asked me to be in her study group. Awkward?
Yes. But it was a much welcomed invitation. The best fucking class in the history of the world ( urlLink Creative Writing ): Journalism, apparently, did not have a big enough turnout. Our teacher, urlLink Mr. Lang , has a booming, commanding voice and drops names of literary celebrities beautifully. (Kate: He mentioned This American Life!! ) Teaching methods aside for a moment, his personality is exactly what draws me into people.
Distinct, opinionated without being close-minded, self-deprecating and good-humored. The best teachers are those who can appertain with their students, who can relate to them on a level aside from academia. I really want to push myself to do well in this class. You can tell all the other kids really want to be there, they are writers. People like urlLink Katy Fitzpatrick are in the same class as I am. Katy fucking Fitzpatrick.
A side not I didn't want to write, but now find myself doing: Brandon. Grr. Perfection appearently exsists in blonde Honors students. I want to hate him so badly. Brandon is like a pimple about to spring out of an unsuspecting pore. You can feel it there, under the surface, about to explode on your nose for the world to see.
It's going to be bad . And when whatever I feel about Brandon fully errupts, it will be worse than any blemish. It's going to be gross and unrequited and sick and more enveloping than G-Dogg. The class is going to push me. I will have to have another living soul read my poetry. The thought terrifies me.
But I need feedback, I need to have someone tell me how to get better. Writing in my weblog is great… but, in all honesty, it seems contrived at times. Like when I disclude major aspects of my life so to avoid my own discomfort. And, of course, everything is one-sided, not at all universal. Maybe this will be a defining part of my early life. Maybe someday, post-Columbia Journalism school and pre-baby making, I’ll print a book.
And a front page will read “ Thank you to my friends, family, and Mr. Lang”. Affectionately… Anna 
