Well kids, it's 'bout that time.

I have to say, it's been a neat summer, for the most part.

And now it's just a regular weekend.

Today is just a regular Saturday.

Tomorrow will be a regular Sunday.

And Monday will be school.

School is not my favorite way to spend the year.

But I guess it's ok; despite our crazy scheduling. I won't know who I have lunch with until I get there. This kind of bites.

And then there's that whole girl thing of planning out your "first day" outfit.

You'd think I'd be spontaneous and ambivolent enough to just pick up some clothes.

But no, my friends. No. I honestly don't know why clothes are such a big deal in our culture. They're just nudity coverings. Come to think of it, they're not very natural.

But I'm one to talk. I've got clothes up the wazoo. Because they're... I don't know, fun? Warm? What's the adjective? They're grand.

And this year I get to direct the "Just Say No" improv group.

How did I get suckered into doing this, again?

I'm not a very good director. I can't boss people around. I can't yell "SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!!!" without looking like a pansy.

I'm not a very "take charge" kind of gal. Granted, I have my moments, but they're few and far apart.

Last year Caitlyn just hand picked a few people (coughherpopularfriendscoughcough) to be in the group. So I was kind of surprised when she picked me. I'm not very good at improv, or just saying "no." And I'm not very popular.

God... popularity. I forgot about that mess.

It's so weird. I don't know how to act around it. I try to pretend this social hierachy (sp?) doesn't exist, but it's hard not to when it's staring you in the face all the time.

I mean, I'm not unpopular. But I'm not in the Prom Court, either. I think I'm somewhere in the middle, and I'm happy with that. It gives you room to fluctuate between groups. There are interesting people in every group, I think.

And I like my friends. I like them a whole lot. I wouldn't trade them for anything. They're top notch individuals.

I also understand this primal need to be exclusive and cling onto your few allies in times of stress; and I think all people from ages 13 to 18 are in a pretty stressful situation called "high school." It strips you down.

Does that make any sense?

We're immature enough to act like kids, but we're mature enough to cover it up. It's an awkward phase.

So this year, now that I'm a big mighty senior, I'm going to try to rise above that goofy social mess. It disappears more with every year, I think. Let's make that our goal this year, kids! Destroy the system!

Well. Yeah. Rant, rant, rant.

The scary thing of it all is that I find Mr. Fritch strangely attractive.

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