It is now 11:41 am. While everyone is comfortably sitting in the overcrowded student center for lunch, like animals at the watering hole, I am writing in this never to be read blog. Why you may ask? Well for one of two reasons. One i am sick. The second reason does not need to be justified with a response, because it's vaguely self explanitory. I have an obssesion with writing, no matter my current health situation.
It pains me when I put forth a significant amount of effort to write something which I think to be quite good, and hear my ever so picky newspaper teacher (whom I have now named Bellatrix LeStrange) tell me how rotten it is.
Now, I can handle critisism. No, I really can. If you love to write it's something you have to deal with. The problem with this was, I had put a lot of time and effort into this news article which I did not want to do. I tried to make it sound like I actually did. I had everyone read it before-hand, and they liked it. I'm hoping that they weren't saying this to be nice. In my life nice is overrated. I would much rather hear the truth. (As I explained in a pervious blog in which I indicated no one listens to me.)
Well, as a twisted Harry Potter fan would do, I cast a spell on that evil Bellatrix. She thought she had me all figured out, until I threw one at her she didn't see coming. Ha! Serves you right for killing Serius. She has not bothered me about the article since.
Hopefully at tommorow mornings six am, which I will trudge into unhappily, my spell will remain upon that nasty old Bellatrix.
If only my health problem wasn't such a tease. I always think that perhaps my body will like me, well for at least a day, but no. No, it likes to throw a curveball at me at least twice a month. This does not help with my exploits at becoming a great exerciser. Is that the correct word? Anyway. I like to try and go running everyday or so. It helps me feel, I don't know, productive. But apparently my body doesn't agree with being productive.
My head hurts. My throat feels raw, as if I haven't had a drink for days. Everytime I suck in air my lungs feel as though they are drowning, and then I proceed to hack up my lungs. I feel weak, as though I can barely lift one foot in front of the other. I do not like to feel weak. Not at all. My stomach is churning, just how the Omish churn their butter, my stomach is doing something much the same. I haven't ate. Maybe I should try to force something down, but then again maybe not.
Oh well, have a great lunch all of you anyway.