Looking for my pants; again

Looking for my pants; again-Amon

When I wake in the mornings, my mood is so sour it could curdle milk. It has become a habit; waking up at 6:00, take a quick shower at 6:30, eat breakfast at 6:45 and finally go to school close to 7:15. Well, this morning, like every other repetitive morning I lie awake in my bed waiting for my father to "wake me". When the door opens, that specefic second, the inevitability strikes you, worsening your mood even further. 'There is no way that you are not going to school.' My feeble excuses may have worked in primary school but now they know when I'm lying. It could be that I'm not a very good liar. My eyes burn and my head is playing a drum solo (sounds like one from a death metal band. If I can give some advice at least, it would be not to read half of H.P Lovecraft's publications before going to bed. H.P. and sleep deprivation are best buddies, they share an apartment. It is quite ironic that he also has a book called "Beyond the Wall of Sleep". He likes using word like fear;horror; shadow; creature and darkness. So you may be able to get a idea of what kind of books he writes.

I'm looking for my pants again;and belt;and tie;and the correct colour socks (if might, by accident have worn the wring colour socks to school, the whole structure of the school would cease to exist; it would be anarchy; children would lose their sanity; cast away their usual amenable demeanor (it's a christian school by the way) and destroy all in their path. How dare you wear the wrond colour socks. Someone once told me that christians like using a lot of capital letters, which is quite true.

I open my door walk past the kitchen; making a grunting sound when my mother says good morning. Your ability to shape vowels seems to go out the window when you've only had a couple of hours sleep. I walk further down the hallway, grunting at my sister this time, to the shower. I stand in the shower, the rush of water drowning out any other sound. In a bad mood, having had little sleep and standing in the shower; thinking of the day to come. My thoughts usually wander between various things; how can I get out of detention this time? (just six hours left) did I finish all my homework; while formulating a viable excuse just in case. I think of the people at the school; their pettiness; confrontations, atrociously childish behaviour and even worse spelling and grammar. It is strange to see how much children are like wild animals; yes, even high-school children, the males that strut in front of the females, attempting to show that they are the superior mate. A show of strength; easily overpowering a inferior opponent, a show of intellect and wit; most of these creatures are not gifted with a large cranial capacity, therefore intellect and wit must be shown through sarcasm and practised jokes. Children can sense weakness. The physical superior will prey on those who wont strike back but steering clear of those that might pose a threat. The meek, excusive child will always be the target of these creatures.

I walk out of the bathroom and back to my own room, thinking about the confrontation with my parents the previous evening. Society has set for us certain parameters of the successful person: one must, do sport; one must get a distinction in every subject, one must become either a lawyer or docter or you will become a labourer, which would totally disgrace the family and will most likely result in my inheritance being taken out of wills and unceremoniously being thrown out of the house. My parents say that this is all that is acceptable in their eyes. '68%! This is not acceptable, with marks like this you wont even be able to go to university!' (university meaning docter or lawyer). Rules are set in place; 2 hours a day, Monday to Friday and Sunday. I've never been one to abide to the rules; we'll see who will win this fight. Just how the old have forgotten how it feels to be young.
If my parents knew that I wanted to become a writer, they would, once again unceremoniously, throw what is left of my corpse from this house.
I'm looking for my pants again;and belt;and tie;and the correct colour of sock ;grunting each time I throw some article of clothing over my shoulder. For most of my life I have been satisfied with the things that I have and what I receive. For the creatures in ###### christian school, possessions are equal to status. These creatures swarm around the newest piece of fashion or technology; the females with high pitched squeals of longing; also wanting to own such a wonderful thing. The males with deep grunts and arms hanging loose trying to get a glimpse of this wonderful thing. If you were to watch the National Geographic channel you might also be able to glimpse such a scene. A large group of apes that have glimpsed fire for the first time. You would be able to make some comparisons. But just like their primate counterparts, these children also become bored just as quickly. Two months later the specefic item would be unfit and their owners once again in the background. But they are satisfied as they have had their two months of fame; they relinquish their space for the owner of the superior item.
I blame my mother for stashing my pants underneath the stairs even though I have a slight recollection of putting them there. Evidently the sour mood is still full force. I grab a bite to eat; while enduring my mothers questions about the test I'm writing today. I brush my teeth, jump in the car and to school I will go; a fun day; with activities like: listening to the english teacher's monotonous drawl; if it's Wednesday I will be forced to go to the chapel service; if I'm lucky there will be another altar call and I'll, once again, be the only one left sitting. A propogandistic speech and zealous frenzies (which are most likely to occur during the chorus of a "rock" gospel song but only if your hand is raised). These are very similiar in characteristics to a drug induced coma. I find it strange how easy these people can prey on the emotions of these children. But these people are not totally to blame; the children also have never, ever, ever dared to question what they are being told. It feels like Nazi Germany.

Well tomorrow it will be another day.
I will be looking for my pants again;and belt;and tie;and the correct colour socks.