Now I Begin a (Brief) Inspired Tear of Productivity pt. 5

And what brought upon this (brief) inspired tear of productivity? I had nothing else to do, kind of. That's being a little hard on myself. I was going to go to a bonfire tonight, and my dad told me to ask my mom if I could. He seemed upset. I asked my mom if my dad was upset. She said no. I asked my mom again if my dad was upset. She said yes. I asked why, she said it wasn't her place to tell. I asked if it was about me, she said yes. I immediately thought it was about drugs or drinking or something, and then I got freaked out. Because that's what I was worried about, not my dad being upset, just more potential consequences. But I guess it was that my dad had talked about me maybe going to Kirkwood. That stung me. First, it stung me in the usual selfish way. But then it stung me because I do love my dad so much. And he has gone through this so long with me, and I have given him no hope for change. He loves me so much and I'm killing him.

I've already fucked this trimester up just like I've fucked up the last ten. But with one actual day of school left, I thought now was as poor a time as any to try and get my shit in gear. At least for now, possibly a brief silver sparkle of romantic something. It's 10:57. In one minute, it'll have been one hour since I started blogging. That is when I usually stop. One hour of anything productive, really. The Xbox is right over there. This time, I'm just going to hang tight, just to show myself I can. Just to show myself I have the slightest bit of self-control. I will blog for three more hours. I am going to hate it and it is going to suck but maybe it can be a symbolic turning point and if it isn't at least I'll pass AP Lang now.

To be clear, I currently have, I think maybe 15 of 30 blog posts necessary to complete the term. So, it's not like I won't have anything to do for the next three hours. I've started texting people the last ten minutes or so, I'm already slowing down. I'm turning off my phone now. I was planning on typing that and not actually doing it, just because it made for good writing. But then I wrote it and I decided if I wanted this to mean anything at all I'd have to actually do it. So I turned off my phone. I'll close Facebook too. I can't write about how bad I am all night, because that's just bad form. Plus, I'm going to run out of things to say. Ready, set, go.