I forgot what sore muscles felt like. . . reminds me of band camp and that cadet's camp thingy. I love sore muscles, I don't know why, makes me feel skinnier in a way. Still, one of these days, I'm gonna have to spring in get a massage, a real one, by another person and everything, with the soothing music and the soft, warm towels. You know, all that treatment I can never afford. I'm sore from that guard thing yesterday, having to dance after not dancing for over two months. I've decided that, even though the kids are really bratty and I highly doubt they'll ever look good while performing just because they don't seem to give a damn about performing, at least this is a way for me to enjoy the arts. As long as I can do what they're supposed to do to the best of my ability, and the fact that it looks good, that's all I care about getting out of this volunteer job. Almost like a slight training in the off-season, keep my rythym (sp?) and coordination intact for next fall, where I shall be a Marching Aztec. Dear god, I hope I get to be a Marching Aztec. That means getting into SDSU first though.

I don't understand children who think they're too cool for the arm circles song. I'm eighteen and I still enjoy it, damnit.

The english exam is tomorrow, my week off from school has already happened. Guess I wasn't paying attention, whoops. I hope I get a perfect score. Although, since I didn't start studying until this morning, that might not happen. I at least hope to not make an ass of myself on things I should know, that's all I can hope for.

Opening a savings account that has an ATM card attached to it really defeats the purpose of my opening that account altogether. I'll have to burn the card.