The clock is ticking

I have two weeks left of school. Two weeks. Two, very much too short to only be two weeks, weeks. I still need to write three and a half essays (two and a half are very late), two quote responses, one very exceedingly long and potentially destabilizing autobiography, and answer two sets of questions that have no impact on my life at all for English. I must write several different listening journals for band, as well as forging some practice journals. I have to continue to pretend that I feel like I'm learning anything in French as I continue my education online by talking to my French speaking friends. I will do my math work, if only to be bored or annoyed with the outcome. I will feel great relief at the end of history. And of course, I'm going to do my chemistry work, hopelessly confused and lost and idiotic feeling, because that's what you do when you get one of the worst chemistry teachers in existence. For the next two weeks of school, I will go through the motions of caring, because it's what's expected of me.

In one week, one of my best friends will be moving. One week. One, totally fast and insane, week. He's like my brother, and he's been dating my uber best friend for almost two years now. We will both be a wreck without him, just like we were a wreck without him last summer when he was in Montana, she was in Maine, and I was in Illinois. I love him with all of my heart. He's a terribly good person, and these last weeks at school will be crazy without him. I think she and I will both be crying a lot, or trying to hide it. It will end, as always, with a phone call at about 10:30 at night where she and I cry about every little thing that's bothering us, but ignore the big thing that is causing us immense pain. I'm not looking forward to after this week.

In four weeks I will be leaving Hawaii. Four weeks. Four weeks that I will only speed up as I try to slow it down. I don't really want to discuss these four weeks.

Time is one of the worst concepts to try and understand. Each second is structured. Each minute is structured. Each hour is structured. Each day is structured. Each week is structured. Each month is structured. But each second is relative. Each minute is relative. Each hour is relative. Each day is relative. Each week is relative. Each month is relative.

Time Sucks
-Jess the Nerdfighting Band Geek

PS: I must give an immense amount of thanks to my friend Niki who made the banner and changed up the layout for me. Niki, tu fais mon monde!