It seems as though finals week has started off with a bang.

My group passed the first period final (by a hair, literally, by a hair). He sent the car rolling slowly down toward our constructed crumple zone. At first, our use of strings was ineffective - the strings were not taut enough because of the way the ramp had been constructed (our addition which held the strings tight would not fit, however they fitted according to the dimensions which the person said he would construct the ramp at). We later discarded the strings, and after the second test run, and the viewing of the advanced groups Trebuchets, we walked back inside and tested our crumple zone again, and we had success - Success meaning me achieving an A+ in Drafting.

The rest of the day was spent in 45 minute classes, so nothing very significant was accomplished. I used my time wisely, and prepared for my third period final, because the second period final tomorrow is a recollection of events that have happened to us during the past year. I feel as though I can easily write about the year, especially since I've started writing this journal; it's just been easier to start a formation of thoughts than it was before. I feel more free in my style of writing.

I feel ready for my Spanish final . . . to quote Merlin, "Bob, you walk around my house speaking in Spanish. If you get anything lower than an A on your final, then it was the work of the devil, and when I die, I'm going to go down and slap the devil in the face!"

After all my finals, and studying, I got a ride home from my mom (we also gave Chris Correa a ride home, which was unnecessary, but we did it anyway) - we swung by the house and went to the doctor, whom I talked to about my skin, my muscles, and my knee. The knee was the worst of the news; everything else went great. My knee was a bit more severe than I thought it was. It seems I have injured the important "ACL" tendon of the knee, which requires 3-6 months of surgery and recovery, so I might have to skip a significant portion of cross country, and I'll have to start from square one again when I start running. There's really not much I can do about that depressing piece of business now though, so I'm just going to plan on being optimistic, and taking the time starting from square one, and to just keep on going and pursuing my dream of a 4:36 mile.

It is rather unfortunate though, to have one's dreams postponed by the wrath of an unholy pothole.

I've noticed that my muscle mass has been decreasing quite significantly since I've stopped working out. Over the summer, I plan on exercising every possible muscle I am able to, until I am a rock hard sexy boy. Why? Because I want to be one.

I don't want to look like I do now, with my acne, average build, but slender . . . I want to be stronger, clear skinned, and "ripped" or physically thick. I guess deep down I want the advantages of being able to lift heavy objects, attract a random passerby's attention, etc. etc. . . . that sounds a lot sillier than the thought I'm thinking of in my head. What I really am trying to communicate is that I'd like to see myself physically fit. Even if I don't have huge muscles, I'd like to have very toned ones, that can lift a large amount of weight, and that have a lot of endurance. I suppose that's what everyone wishes for, but I'm not the kind of person to wish upon a star, but more the type to research how to build a rocket and fly my way into the universe to chase it.

Liz said she woke up with a really bad 103° fever this morning, so I'm going to drive over to her house and check on her later this evening if I have time - but I wouldn't stay for more than an hour. I have finals this week, and I'm pretty adamant about my necessity to study.

My parents seem to be arguing with the life my brother is living at the moment, and the truth is that I can understand why. He seems to be partying more than he is learning. He had A's in his classes, then he let that fall apart and he barely passed most of them, and possibly failed another. He needs to concentrate if he wants to make something of his future, which he seems to be letting slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He always tells me he's so proud of me, and I wish I could respond to him mutually, but I feel as though I love parts of him, and despise others, and I don't know if that's something to be proud of, especially when at the moment there's a majority on the negative side. I love my brother, don't get me wrong, I just want him to turn his life around, and to stop watching him dig his own grave. I want him to live. I want him to be happy.
Speaking of which, the stress I've been under lately seems to have been affecting my level of happiness. I'm really attempting to be an optimist about things, although deep down I feel that I'm walking on a very thin line. When my mom got frustrated with me today after school (she really was just bitching at me, and being really irrational about it - telling me to stop arguing with her, while in reality I'd just finished asking her to stop the conversation because I could see where it was going . . .) Anyway, I could feel myself slipping off into a dark corner. Right after that we went to the doctors though, which I've already discussed, and she was totally supportive. She actually made my day helping me out and talking to me right there, and offering me that little dose of encouragement. By telling me, "It's O.K., you've got a lot to be proud of . . . you're body isn't bad, you're rather handsome . . . you'll just start running again in a couple of months" - those little phrases made all the difference in the world. When someone you love offers you a little string of support, sometimes the string can counterbalance the anvil of pressure that your life is under, and life just becomes so much easier.

I'm going to get going so that I can write a few "Thank You" cards, wish my friend Ryan happy birthday, study for my Spanish final, and finally, if I have the time, go see Liz.

The phrase in Spanish is "¡Uf!", which means "Ugh!"

Smile and be happy. I am.

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