biensoul


a required taste for the pretentious as all get out


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clumsy is to maladroit as biensoul is to...
January 24, 2004, 11:47 pm

Truthfully, I don't know what else I expected while galloping down the stairs, arms weighed down by 25 test books and answer sheets, and sliding on the snow left behind by the shoes of two hundred scared shitless high school kids. I didn't know what to think when I felt my foot lose contact with the stair, sending my whole body propelling forward and 25 test books and answer sheets, a box of pencils, and my proctor's sheet flying into the air. My first thought when I managed to peel myself off the floor was, "Damn, I just threw someone's future down a stairwell."

Don't EVER get excited about ANYTHING when carrying a bunch of SAT booklets, folks. It's not pretty.

My knees are scraped and sore. I twisted my ankle a good deal, and my neck is cricked so badly that I'm walking around looking like my ear is sewn onto my shoulder. Things could be worse, I suppose. I managed to recover all the scattered SAT materials, turn them in, limp to my car, and blast my newest addiction, that damn Outkast song that everyone sang two months ago but that I love now. I talked to myself about school, about the SATs, about college, about snow, about my ankle, and one singular theme emerged from my ramblings: life isn't bad. Things could be a lot worse.

Hey ya.

Go and have a beer, on me.

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