Chapter 1: My Assignment
Argggg, I hate Mondays. They bring me only absolute annoyance in waking up
to go to a dull class. Yeah, I was the valedictorian. Yeah, I made it into
Harvard. And once again, yeah, I got a "wonderful internship that is
bursting to the seams with potential" (quoted by my adorable parents, who
have planned my entire future out meticulously). But do I enjoy any of
these wonderful experiences? NO.
College definitely sucks for one thing. I mean I was prepared for riotous parties, the hormone-driven frats, and the slutty bimbos, but not for the workload. I do love the subject I study, but according to my Journalism and English professors, I haven't "quite tapped the stream of my promising communication abilities and that with a muse, I may be inspired to use my budding talent as it should be used" (translation: They think I have a skill, but I don't know how to use it---WTF? I SO know how to use my skill!!!).
So, they gave me an assignment to write about "my muse".
OK, if you know anything about me, then you would know that I was pissed off beyond my limit. I was shaking with such fury, that if I had not called Lucas, I may have strangled both of those academic scholars and buried them six feet under the school.
So here I am on a Monday morning, thinking about this stupid ass "self discovery" paper. I arrived at class late as usually and received a glare from that stuck up bitch of a teacher. I sat in the last row of seats completely absorbed thinking about this paper. I was abruptly pulled out of my thoughts, when I was tapped on the shoulder. The finger tapping me belonged to one of my friends. Her name was Cheyenne and she had brown curly hair and beautiful.
"You seem pissed," she started off.
"Well you certainly are Ms. Observant today," I replied hastily. I wasn't in the talking mood.
"Geez, I try, try, try, and what do I get in return? Nothing but a bitted remark," she said dramatically. I looked at her distastefully, but swallowed my next vicious remark that was forming on my tongue. I sighed loudly.
"I'm sorry, Cheyenne. It's just that I'm in a pissy mood. You know that paper I have to write? Well I can't figure out how to start it off, and it has been eating away at my insides."
"O right, that muse paper. Well that's simple; just write about how I bring an ever-glowing light upon your own dull lackluster one. Just emphasize my perfectedness and you'll be fine."
"Hahaha, you know you seem to be experiencing a multi-personality syndrome. I mean first, you went all Captain Obvious on me, and now you're all Ms. Humor-Is-My-Name. Go to the psychology department and get it checked out."
"Haley, how about you forget about it? I mean, these things are supposed to come naturally. We'll go to a party and you'll meet your "muse" (she did this with the finger quotation---omg why am I friends with her? I ask myself that question everyday and I have never been able to answer it...). Then you just gotta write about how he made you all passionate and shit like that. O you know how sappy professors are."
"Yeah... but I want this one to have actual meaning."
"Well give this a shot, who knows you may even find your Mr. Prince-in- shining-armor," she sheepishly joked. I shook my head with laughter and nodded in agreement to the plans she had for tonight.
Boy was I in for a night of surprises, old high school enemies, and exhaustion.
College definitely sucks for one thing. I mean I was prepared for riotous parties, the hormone-driven frats, and the slutty bimbos, but not for the workload. I do love the subject I study, but according to my Journalism and English professors, I haven't "quite tapped the stream of my promising communication abilities and that with a muse, I may be inspired to use my budding talent as it should be used" (translation: They think I have a skill, but I don't know how to use it---WTF? I SO know how to use my skill!!!).
So, they gave me an assignment to write about "my muse".
OK, if you know anything about me, then you would know that I was pissed off beyond my limit. I was shaking with such fury, that if I had not called Lucas, I may have strangled both of those academic scholars and buried them six feet under the school.
So here I am on a Monday morning, thinking about this stupid ass "self discovery" paper. I arrived at class late as usually and received a glare from that stuck up bitch of a teacher. I sat in the last row of seats completely absorbed thinking about this paper. I was abruptly pulled out of my thoughts, when I was tapped on the shoulder. The finger tapping me belonged to one of my friends. Her name was Cheyenne and she had brown curly hair and beautiful.
"You seem pissed," she started off.
"Well you certainly are Ms. Observant today," I replied hastily. I wasn't in the talking mood.
"Geez, I try, try, try, and what do I get in return? Nothing but a bitted remark," she said dramatically. I looked at her distastefully, but swallowed my next vicious remark that was forming on my tongue. I sighed loudly.
"I'm sorry, Cheyenne. It's just that I'm in a pissy mood. You know that paper I have to write? Well I can't figure out how to start it off, and it has been eating away at my insides."
"O right, that muse paper. Well that's simple; just write about how I bring an ever-glowing light upon your own dull lackluster one. Just emphasize my perfectedness and you'll be fine."
"Hahaha, you know you seem to be experiencing a multi-personality syndrome. I mean first, you went all Captain Obvious on me, and now you're all Ms. Humor-Is-My-Name. Go to the psychology department and get it checked out."
"Haley, how about you forget about it? I mean, these things are supposed to come naturally. We'll go to a party and you'll meet your "muse" (she did this with the finger quotation---omg why am I friends with her? I ask myself that question everyday and I have never been able to answer it...). Then you just gotta write about how he made you all passionate and shit like that. O you know how sappy professors are."
"Yeah... but I want this one to have actual meaning."
"Well give this a shot, who knows you may even find your Mr. Prince-in- shining-armor," she sheepishly joked. I shook my head with laughter and nodded in agreement to the plans she had for tonight.
Boy was I in for a night of surprises, old high school enemies, and exhaustion.