Working in the Guidance Wing of a High School

Hey Ho Ho! I don’t have school today so it’s bloggin’ time! (Hulk reference .-.) By the way, Dez and Dan, my band, apparently have some gigs coming up. Dez didn’t inform any of this to me! Geez.

Anywho, today’s rant will be about working as a office worker in the Guidance Office of my high school. Well first of all, I hate how my high school focuses all its attenion on sports and choir–nothing else matters. Until recently, I guess when the Literary Journal–which I’m apart of–finally got some recognition by having a short segment on the local news, but yet again, our mere accomplishments were outshone by the choir–who are going to Carnegie Hall (They got a whole segment). Most of the people don’t even know what that is. I don’t either but I’m not the one going. 

Okay back to the subject. I carry this journal around with me all the time. I write down everything that goes on in my brain–a good and bad thing. You know what they say, whatever’s written will eventually be spoken–so be careful. Apparently, I don’t like being logical. By the way the only good thing about my school is that we have 5 periods a day and get out at 1:55 pm. It’s called trimester schedule. We were the only school, along with a rivaling school, that’s on it currently. When I wrote this, I was sitting on the floor in the corner behind a wall in the guidance office. Ha.

Monday, January 28, 2013/ 5th period, 12:49 pm

my mood has changed drastically. fine don’t open the door for me. give me blank stares. how could she possibly know what I want? sitting here listening to her talk about the walnuts in her salad and slowly spread butter on a baked potato while talking to an unknown person on the phone about every detail of her day. “hard job” my butt. this man with the voice of Zeus just walked in. yelling is a nice tactic. i’m so hungry. the paint on my nails is chipping. i can’t see the man’s face but the shoosh sound when he speaks makes me think that he’s missing a tooth or two. home come soon. “guidance office, this is —- —-” i get so tired of hearing her answer the phone. geez i have about an hour left in here. gah. how many more years? two. gah. how old am i? a mere 15 years old. the man’s voice overpowers the whole room.  i imagine him to be a big, burly man. what if he was scrawny? haha that’d be a knee-slapper. learn the 50 states in sets of five and six. he knew how to read something and comprehend quickly. i never even saw his face.

So I guess I was just having a bad day.




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