Olive Oil in my hair/Kansas City in my earbuds

Wednesday 3/22/17 11:41 am 

I’m sitting on the bathroom floor right now with a shower cap on my head and some thick sticky olive oil smothered all over my hair…

A bitch gave me lice.

I hug too many people. It’s a problem. I hug my friends, I hug my English teacher, I hug my family (sometimes). I shudder to think about how many people I’ve infected. Or how many people infected me. The ultimate question of WHO DONE IT !!?!? is impossible to answer.

Thursday 3/23/17 

I contemplated skipping school today. I know it’s paranoia and all the lice are gone (I washed my hair with QuitNit 3 times, used dishwasher soap, olive oil, an evil small comb, blow dried and straightened my hair), but my head feels itchy still. Even though there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, there. I can feel the ghosts of the dead parasites crawling on my head.

I admit. The track meet may have had a tiny, really really small, slice of a reason on the pizza of Don’t Go To School Today That’s A Good Idea.

But I did.

And I’m proud. 6:21 on the mile? Not bad for someone who’s still trying to recover from sophomore year. Freshman year I was one of the best on the team with a 6:01 mile, Sophomore year was just, well, embarrassing. This year? I’m getting there. I died a little inside on the two mile though.

My sweet friend ,Z, came to the meet. I love her. She came to my last XC race and brought me some pasta she had cooked because she knew I’d be hungry. IF THAT’S NOT TRUE FRIENDSHIP I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.

I walked home, got frustrated at my Dad for only saying this when I came in the door (tired, sweaty, unbelievably tired):

“Go do the dishes.”

It’s never: “How’d it go?”
It’s never: “How are you?”

“How was your day?’

“Wish I could have been there!”

“Good job!”

“How was school?”

It’s either:

A) Do the dishes

B) I noticed a sock on your bedroom floor this morning

C) Get your laundry out of the dryer

He doesn’t care, and he doesn’t bother to pretend to be interesting in anything I do anyway. It’s okay. I’m over it.

Friday 3/24

I met a cat named Knives. No lie. I can imagine all sorts of fun that could be had with a cat named Knives.

(Holding Knives) “You guy’s I’ve got Knives!”

“Would you like to meet Knives?”

“I like Knives.”

“I love Knives.”

Ariel and I buried our feet in the wet sand and watched the ocean water after we had our fun with Knives. I was happy our coach sent us on a beach run. Nobody else actually went in the water but me. And when I say in I mean completely under. Everyone was worried about getting their hair wet, but I just dunked under that freezing cold water and came up for air. I feel alive in the cold. I love it as much as I love Knives.

I went to the beach a second time that day with K, J, and A. We had to cross many cliffs to get down to the water. I was wrapped up in my fuzzy red heart blanket because the wind was pretty brutal. I looked like a weird burrito type thing, but I was warm. The waves down there were a lot harder and a lot more dangerous than the ones at the other beach. We’d kneel on the sand and wait to see who’d get knocked down first by the biggest waves. We found sand crabs in the dirt. I went under the water a few times, but I was extremely cautious. The tide was high and I couldn’t see the rocks, but I knew they were around where we were.

After we got tired of this we walked 0.9 miles to StreetCar Merchants of Fried Chicken, Doughnuts & Coffee. It took us half an hour to walk 0.9 miles. That’s just sad. A and I belted out songs the whole way: “Wrecking ball”, “Don’t Stop Believing”, “Hello”, “We’re All In This Together”; J didn’t sing but K joined in. The pedestrians were highly amused, which just made us turn it up a notch.

I got a Cafe Au Lait, the only coffee I get besides a Hazelnut Latte, along with J & K. A felt like some hot chocolate (though to be honest, that girl already runs off sugar).

Saturday 3/25

I was supposed to drive up to San Francisco today with a friend, but it’s been changed to tomorrow. Gives me more time to pack though. Today at this outdoor hiking clothing store my Dad goes to to get this special grey shirt with “special buttons” (???) (even though he doesn’t even hike) the cashier man made an interesting comment. He asked us if we wanted bags, we said no (they cost 10 cents a bag, usually) and he said: “Are you sure? We have….paper bags….” (pulls out a paper bag, with flourish, and a deep voice). I blinked. He said:
“I was channeling my inner James Bond…”

Me: “This paper bag, should you choose to accept it…”

Nobody laughed.

I got another Cafe Au Lait today. I drank it at 3pm at the mall. Which explains why I’m writing all this at 1:24 am on Sunday 3/26. At 7am sharp I’m being picked up to begin the drive down to San Fran. I’m bringing my notepad to document more interesting stuff.

As of now caffeine runs in my veins, Kansas city in my ears- listen to it please. I beg of you.

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