Red Opium.

The story of the bomb threat as I know it, as copied from my livejournal.


I did well in German this morning. I don't think I screwed up once, yay me. She didn't put us in groups, but it was still group work -- but the group was the entire class. Anyway. Due to later events, I could give a damn about German right now. Algebra was fine. Now then, we can speak of the excitement.

I came out of Algebra ten minutes early to find tons and tons of people on the Quad. I initially thought, oh shit, it's another fucking high school group. Then I realized, no, these are students and teachers, as in, "our own." I had seen a sign earlier for Founder's Day, so I decided maybe that's what it was. But that many people? Since when does anyone care about Founder's Day?

I continued on my way to my next class, wot is immediately after Algebra and on the other side of campus. I was stopped before I got too far past the crowds by my counselor, Amy, and told I couldn't go that way, I had to go waaaay out of the way to go to class, assuming my class wasn't already cancelled.

I wanna know who in HELL'S BELLS fucking sent a fucking bomb threat to the fucking school. I shall kill them with my bare hands, I think.

Initially, I was pissed because I had to walk all the way over to the girl's dorms and across the parking lot and the grass and stuff to the building instead of just walking across the pedestrian bridge. But, you know, that's a sort of thing you get over, despite your dislike of all the tons of glass you encountered on this grassy trip that you really hope you didn't step on. I called mom in the process of this journey to tell her to call my brother, etc, being he's the press.

The whole campus was evacuated after I got out of Philosophy. I went on and ate lunch in the Cafe, unconcerned at all this bomb shit. I called Joe myself to tell him what I knew, then hunted down Amy and pumped her for more information. I decided then to just go home.

Problem: No one was answering the phone. Of all the motherfucking times for my parents to not be home, they had to choose the day the whole damn school was evacuated? I called a billion more times -- no answer. I began to really hate our answering machine message, restraining myself from telling that damn machine I was WELL AWARE they couldn't come to the phone. Finally I called my brother. No answer.

I was stranded. After 45+ minutes of calling mom and Joe over and over to no avail, I began getting quite desperate. I knew I didn't have enough money for the bus. I dug out Dr. B's business card she gave me for job applications, knowing she wasn't in her office. No answer (no duh). I had to at least feel like I'd tried all options. I knew I had all my MWF teacher's phone numbers. I knew I had my Philosophy prof's cell phone number in my notebook. I told myself I was NOT calling him, I was NOT calling him. I decided to walk down to the Wesley Foundation. I encountered my Philosophy prof sitting outside the international student house. What the hell, I decided. I hinted heavily -- he told me he was stranded too, saying his keys were in his office. Alas. I had to at least try. I was to the point I didn't give a damn what was proper. I went to Wesley. The only people there were two guys, one who's kinda stuck-up who was sitting outside in his car wot wouldn't start, and the creepy guy of "stooge" fame. I left to go back to where I'd been sitting before. A pompous young cop stopped me on the street to tell me school was closed, he decided to close it. Hee hee, har har. I told him I'd be glad to go home if someone would ever answer the phone. He told me to walk. I told him I didn't live in town; he told me to run, then. I told him he could take me home if he felt like it. He told me he had to stay there and popped another french fry into his fat mouth (and left me the hell alone after that remark, nyah).

I went to where I'd been sitting before and called mom again. No answer. Called Joe again. No answer. I decided if mom didn't pick up this time, I was going to start walking. She answered the phone. I could not hide how pissed I was, and informed her the entire school had been evacuated OVER AND HOUR AGO. (Yes, by this time, I'd been trying to call about an hour and fifteen minutes.)

And I'm thinking: If that bitch doesn't let me learn how to drive now, fuck it, I'll find some random stranger to teach me. I don't care. I don't fucking care what she wants because I need to learn how to drive, goddamn it. I spent over an hour waiting on HER to get her fat ass home or for Joe to be in his office, or something. There was a fucking mass exodus out of that place, and I just had to sit there and wait on her. What if that bomb threat were actually real? The damn thing could go off, kablooie, and the blood would be on her fucking hands because I'd been calling over an HOUR.

Today I was stripped of every single one of my stranded-options. There was no one at Wesley. There was no one at home. Joe wasn't there. Erin is in Ohio. At long last, I couldn't even go to Frau or Mrs. V, both of whom have offered to take me home as a last resort before. I had no money for the bus. I couldn't even wander around campus looking for people in WHO or something like that. I couldn't ask Amy to take me home because she had to keep people away, and she told me that all the cars were being searched too anyway, so she was also stuck. I wasn't about to go to dad's church and beg the secretary to take me home if she was there, though she's nice and would have done it in a heartbeat. I didn't want to listen to her trying to talk me into going to church the whole way home.

Today I was all alone in the world, and I realized that not only do I have no fucking friends (it's amazing to live in a place your whole life and not really know anyone) -- I have no fucking life. I am a fucking leech. A parasite. I cannot do for myself. Yes, I can wander around begging random strangers for rides, but I cannot give myself a ride. I cannot drive myself, though I did briefly entertain the wild notion of hijacking a car.

My god, I need to learn how to drive. Now. I cannot put this off any longer, and I cannot let that bitch force me to remain some suckling little child. I am not a child. I am a young woman, and I need to be able to fend for myself, and the most basic way of doing that in our society is being able to drive. If one cannot drive, one cannot survive. I will not be smothered anymore.

And mom had just better damn well deal with it. She can pitch her goddamn fits, get that scary drill sergeant tone, you know what, I don't fucking care right now, I can get my own damn tones and I don't care if she slaps me for it. I don't care. I'll slap that bitch back the way I feel right now. I gotta learn how to drive, and if she's not going to do it, fuck it all, I'll find someone who will -- whether family or not.

PMS is gooood.