February 29, 2008

My throat is aching. My nose is running. I think that I'm sick, but I don't really care because there is nothing that I can do about it. I have "throat lozenges" as my dance teacher calls them. They're the nasty cherry menthol kind, which make me practically gag on my own spit, but they're the only ones we had at the house of the perpetually empty pantries. Had Starbucks this morning. The guy at the window, who was quite the looker in that early morning perky coffee-fueled way, asked, "Who ordered the honey latte?" When I told him that the latte belonged to me, myself, and I, he asked what I thought of the taste of it. And I said to him, "I don't know yet, it's still scalding hot." He told me that he thought it was "interesting." And he was right, it was quite different from the ordinary latte choice. But it was G-double O-D. Mom says that the coffee is only better because they had a three-hour training session for all the baristas. Which rocks a lot because who doesn't like good coffee?

La tee dee. La tee daaa.

I'm on the school bus currently. It is pleasant, except for these ridiculous potholed, pitted roads that cause my pen to wobble all over the page making chicken scratch. "Swing swing swing, from the tangles of my heart," my iPod ear buds shout, playing a private concert for my ears only. I rock, you rock, we all rock together.