15 October 2003 - 9:14 AM
I am dying, Egypt, dying:
Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra IV.15
OK, that's overdramatic. But I am wiped out, and it's only Wednesday.
The stupidity of Spirit Week grows ever greater. Yesterday was "Twin Day," during which one is supposed to pick a friend and dress up in matching outfits. The problem is that the matching outfits often become quite elaborate costumes, which deconstruct at varying speeds. By the end of the day, it looked as though a brilliant red chicken had exploded in my room.
Today is "Colour Day," and tomorrow will be "Theme Day." Each class is supposed to choose a colour, and a theme, and come appropriately attired on both days. Here's where the needle on the stupidity graph takes a big spike: the faculty are encouraged to participate as well, with our own colour and theme.
The faculty's colour for this year has been declared to be 'denim.' Quite aside from the fact that 'denim' is not a colour, I am annoyed by the notion that every right-thinking person is possessed of jeans and workshirts. I am still a Goth kid at heart. Black, I have. Purple, I have. Denim? Not so much.
I would like very much to know who decided our theme should be "Pyjama Party," so that I might find that person and beat him or her senseless with a rubber chicken. There is nothing in my pyjama drawer at home which I would wear in public, much less to school.
There is only one reason for participating in Spirit Week activities -- the kids often behave better if they think you are with them. Nothing academic will be accomplished, but at least there is less pain. Being weak and desiring to avoid pain, I went shopping for school-worthy PJs yesterday afternoon.
This was not an easy task. I was sticking to discount stores, since there was no way I was going to spend much money on such an outfit, and there are just some standards of personal modesty which must be maintained. Eventually I came away with something which will do (black t-shirt top, baggy leopard print bottoms). For a brief moment on my way home with this prize, I worried that there might be something a bit too ... decadent about it. Then I wondered if I shouldn't have checked out the black slippers with maribou trim a little more closely, and then I thought that might have been too far over the top. The remainder of my drive home consisted of my brain making such sideways slides around the pyjamas.
I think too much. I also suspect that if you asked most people who know me for a list of adjectives to describe me, 'decadent' wouldn't be on it.