a very long paragraph

yesterday in the afternoon, at the end of the afternoon, right before it becomes night and the light from outside the window is grey and blue, i read some of martha parks web journal and i was overwhelmed by it. we have only been friends for a very short time but i think she is one of the most phenomenal human beings i have ever met. i wish she were happier. i wish everyone were happier. on the way to kelly green it was raining and i listened to josh groban and i cried all the way there, i dont know why. i couldnt see out the rear window and the rain was everywhere and i was so afraid, of the rain, the window, the play, my lines, my legs, high school, everything below my skin. there is something wrong with me this fall and i wish someone would tell me what it was so i could fix it. maybe when fall ends and it is really winter it will go away. maybe it will stay forever like the scratches on my knees. i need to get out of highschool and do something frivolous and exhausting. i need to be sleepless and kiss a boy or smoke some pot or get very very drunk but i know i wont do any of those things because i am afraid of all of them. i hate alcohol and im not ready to screw myself up with drugs and there are no boys who want to kiss me. i will have to be content with being sleepless. kelly green was a tornado last night and everybody loved it, i loved it. we got through and after curtain call i danced to where is the love even though i hate dancing because at the momos ball sean hines told me i looked stupid and i wanted to kick him and break his bones. we went to ihop and i sat across from ryan masson and shared my pancakes with strawberry syrup. i always knew he was beautiful but i am so glad he did kelly green because if he hadnt i would never have known what he is like in real life. what would happen if i stopped doing everything? if i stopped going to school and doing homework and eating, and just went to ihop with my friends and laughed? if i stopped eating and found a field to run through and found a pen to write with and found a play to act in? if i never eat again, then will you love me? i dont know who i am or what i believe, but i know that i am happy when it is late and i am laughing and talking. i went to sarah mercers house and it was so nice to sleep in her bed because she is comfortable sleeping in contact with me, with my elbow on her arm and her leg touching my hip. i love human contact and i want to always feel someone elses body touching mine. im not implying what a teenager would infer. i love holding hands and hugging people and wrapping my arms around shoulders and feeling human hands in my hair.

production week

morgan and eileen,

i dont know how you do it. "i am stretched to the breaking point over all this!" you are doing so much more stuff than i am and getting so much less sleep and you are still going going going. you guys are my heroes. you surpass me at all times. try to get some sleep.

--sara

Dear Savannah Self,

WHO ARE YOU TO DECIDE THAT A MAN CANNOT MARRY THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE IF IT IS ANOTHER MAN?

WHO ARE YOU TO SAY THAT THE BIBLE HAS THE POWER TO CONTROL THE LAWS OF THIS DEMOCRATIC COUNTRY, EVEN WHEN THEY GO SO FAR AS TO DENY THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE THE FUNDAMENTAL RIGHTS GRANTED TO THEM IN THE VERY FIRST AMENDMENT TO THE US CONSTITUTION, WRITTEN TO GUARANTEE EVERY HUMAN HIS INALIENABLE CIVIL LIBERTIES?

WHO ARE YOU TO DENY SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE?

WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE?

WHO ARE YOU TO INSIST THAT MORGAN JON FOX, ANDREW GARNER, OR BROCK TERWILLIGER IS LESS WORTHY OF MARRIAGE THAN YOU OR ME?

GET OUT OF MY FACE, SAVANNAH SELF. YOU ARE NOT SUPERIOR TO ANYONE, AND YOU AND YOUR BELIEFS ARE SO CONTRADICTORY, I CANT UNDERSTAND HOW YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF EVERY DAY. JUDGE NOT, SAVANNAH SELF, LEST YE BE JUDGED.

I CANT GET THE IMAGE OUT OF MY HEAD THAT WHEN YOU DIE AND SKIP UP TO THE PEARLY GATES UNCONCERNED, SAINT PETER WILL LOOK UP YOUR NAME IN HIS BOOK AND SAY, "SAVANNAH SELF? OH, IM SORRY, YOU ARE INTOLERANT, JUDGMENTAL, HYPOCRITICAL, AND UNFAIR. YOUR ROOM IS DOWNSTAIRS."

REGARDS,
SARA

'Neath the shadow of the PSAT I am bound to write something like this.

so, the PSAT is tomorrow. the pea-ess-ay-tea. the pssatt. actually its the PSAT/NMSQT. that is, the preliminary scholastic aptitude test / national merit scholarship qualifying test. the difference between the sat and the psat is such: the sat i can take again. the psat, this time, tomorrow morning, means i either get a 215+ and get national merit qualified, or i get a 214- and i dont. its that simple. no getting around it. and im worried. why? because i dont know how to do math, thats why.

in other news, i was wrong, autumn. i dont like you. you lead to winter and as soon as its not hot every day this "condition" comes back. and i hate it. and its your fault, autumn. fall. i will have to cut my fingernails short soon and keep them that way till april at least. you suck, autumn. we are no longer friends.

the psat people say the most important thing is to get a good nights sleep.

good night.

Jonathan Edwards Style HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE Sermon about WSHS for AP English

(to be read in your best GOD WILL SMITE YOU voice.)

HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE!

In the beginning, God created the classroom and the hall, but over the years, this holy sanctuary has been infiltrated by you, the disciples of Satan, whose foul feet blemish the wrong side of the hall and hobble through the incorrect door—into the gates of hell, as slowly as if Lucifer's demons themselves clung to your ankles, grabbing maliciously at your hems and jerking your britches tantalizingly low. You Devil's children do wholeheartedly invoke the wrath of almighty God with your evil deeds, calling the Savior to rain down his fury upon your unworthy heads.
God's wrath is as horrifying as Mr. Brown scurrying down the checkered hallway with the walk of expulsion, chanting, "It WAS going to be an awesome, awesome day, White Station," in a soft voice. He will soon grasp your belt, point a finger to the sky, and proclaim, "To infinity, and beyond!" before dragging you off by your ear to the pits of hell, or actually just ISS in the auditorium lobby. There, you shall spend an eternity in silence and grief, woefully scribbling the decrees of that Ol' Deluder on stones with your own blood.

Wish you to avoid this fate and walk in the light of God? Nay, though you howl and cry, your screams are lies, hiding your sins. Upon leaving this congregation, the multitudes of you shall enter the halls and damn yourselves without delay with your tongues shouting meaningless obscenities between classes. For this you shall be punished by having your mouth washed out with soap for a thousand millennia in hell. Your stumblings through the corridor in linear groups of five and six will gain you forty lifetimes of waiting behind Mr. T., the Rock, and the Governator in line for the bathroom. Endless detention awaits those who dishonor themselves by skipping class to smoke in the halls, the parking lot, or the gym, whether senior or east!

The eye of God is upon you when you sit to fill your bellies with strange meats and vegetables. Ne'er shall more than eight bodies populate a single table, nor trash be left beyond the Bell, nor neither food nor any other item be thrown across the room, lest the guilty party wish to spend all the days of the earth scraping gum from 'neath the very desk of Satan himself.

In the classroom, ye masses who borrow pencils, pens, quills, hair ties, or erasers must return them post haste, for to borrow without returning is to steal, and Almighty God thinks no more of a thief than of a murderer or a gnat. Ye filthy masses beg for hell whene'er you demand the blessing of paper whilst you have your own. This offense deserves and shall receive no less castigation than a paper cut every hour 'til Judgment Day.

If you should think you have some escape from hellfire, consider yourselves should you daily mount your metal monsters to drive to this once sacred place. Should ye dare not park betwixt the saintly white lines so graciously provided you by your God in heaven whom you have forsaken, he will forsake you in turn, leaving you to die a thousand deaths by rogue football to the throat. You who selfishly refuse to let others in the line to journey home after the final Bell, you who with windows down play repetitive and inarticulate music at maximum volume, seek ye NOT the kingdom of God—there is no hope for you in escaping damnation, for you are but scum in the eyes of the Lord.

Listen, children, for you who stand on the edge of the bowels of hell have only one chance to turn around and enter the Up Only Staircase toward heaven—immediate repentance and immediate reform. RESPECT your fellow heathens: lighten your attitudes, for he whose outlook is hellishly low shall soon join his mind in the unceasing fire. RESPECT your education by abstaining from that abominable breach of trust known as cheating. RESPECT your peers' personal space—never lower yourself to the barbaric acts of disrespect of poking, pulling, and the grabbing of others' backsides, especially if you do not know them. RESPECT those who excel in their studies and the grades they earn for their toils. RESPECT your instructors' right to instruct class, RESPECT your classmates' right to arrive in class on time, and finally, RESPECT MY FRESH.

Amen.

i went to florida

my gay great aunt kitty's rude life partner madge thinks my name is katharine.


put ya stunna shades on.


the waves crash on the sand, there's a storm that will break any second.


my feet, drews feet, the ocean.


i like my family. dad mom drew.


"what the hell was that?"


this sunset was about eighteen thousand times greater in real life than it is in this picture.

and finally...


the rock should win an oscar for his stunning job in DOOM, the greatest movie ever to exist, in which he costars with eomer and they have very big guns.

hi.

mr williams just cancelled novus forever.