When I wake up every weekday morning, there is nothing but blackness around me, and the small, pronouncing tinkling of my phone. It persistently gets louder and louder, so I crawl out of bed to turn it off ASAP.
I’m sure if anyone could see me, in the pitch blackness, I would look like a zombie, except of course, a lot more human. I take my phone, and then think for a few moments about what my day will be like. I am hit with the realization that there will be another day of school ahead of me. That makes me think some more. And more. This means riding my bike. It means making lunch. Then I think about my classes for that day. It is quite complicated. Especially for someone who has homeschooled their whole life.
Whatever. I decide.
I read the news. My reaction to reading the news is always a mixture between angriness in regards to Donald Trump, and happiness in regards to the fact that he won’t be my president.
I continue to look at my phone until I decide that I need to get up. Again, here comes the zombie. She just has enough strength to turn on the lights. I continue with my routine, and hours later, I am riding to school. I have a 3 mile ride each way to school. It is usually extremely foggy, and I always see the same people, same dogs, same crazy turkeys, and chickens who actually cross the road.
At some parts of the ride, the whole world is cloaked in fog, and so is the road ahead of me and the road behind. It looks like I’m on a different planet.
My first class is a science class. It is OK, the only thing is, science and I aren’t the best of friends in the whole world.
My third period is music. The problem is, the music teacher heavily favors some of the other singers. That is really hard.
I have math after that. Finally, at long last, lunch. I sit with my friends, and eat whatever I managed to find for lunch. Spanish and English classes are double-periods. I can’t say Spanish is the best, since our teacher does not know how to teach. Her class is a disorganized mess. English I love because it is fairly political and English duuuuhhh I LOVE WRITING.
The 7th and 8th periods are art or study hall. I love both (They involve reunion of me and my laptop).
When the final bell rings, it is me procrastinating getting on my bike. I am tired. Very tired. Somehow after much labor and longing thoughts of the food I’ll get once I’m home, I ride up the driveway and make a beeline toward my bed. I stay there for the rest of the day.
Since I don’t have an alarm on weekends, I treasure the fact that my bed and I can be together until death do us part, or that is to say, until Monday morning.
I stay there for awhile until I feel like I may be missing out, and then I get ready to do my election work. This next weekend I am going to another state to work on the election, just because it is coming up so soon, but on normal weekends, I just go to my local community and make phone calls there. I spend the rest of my Saturday shopping with my sister or spending time with my dad.