we hung like space stations and rocketships.

I am seconds away from letting my head fall onto the keyboard and just passing out from exhaustion. So tired, but so much homework and preparation to do…I don’t know who dared call the year sixteen “sweet.” This is basically hell month, when I should be doing anything but typing into this Blogger window. When I should be befriending my AP review books and doing my homework on Friday nights. Somehow, though, I’m not feeling a huge impending sense of doom like I usually do. I don’t feel pressured or stressed or horribly, well, fucked. I admit, I could do a lot better without math analysis class, but besides that, junior year is not too horrible as everyone else is making it seem. Then again, the next two months are bound to be the worst as test…after test…after test await me. But I’d rather stay in the present.

I’m beyond caring about listening to “good” music and judging people for listening to “crap.” Honestly, half of my top played on my iPod is what I’d classify as crap. But who cares? If I really like the sugarcoated, autotuned voices of insert name here, then let it be. This is just further proved by the fact I’m listening to Hannah Montana as I type. Lowest of the low, I know, but I’ll listen to whatever I feel like. I’ve also noticed, practically anything that’s mass-produced to the radio, I begin to like after four or five listens. I guess there’s just a universal appeal to popular songs, even if it’s spelling out “Fergalicious” or singing about a girl in Apple Bottom jeans. Really. How can I judge others for liking Miley Cyrus if a) I’m listening to her right now, and b) I claim to be in love with T-Pain, who’s basically a horrible singer made interesting by a machine that warps his voice? So the next time I sneer at your iPod artists, casually mention the fact I have a Jonas Brothers poster in my room, and I’ll shut right up.

On that note, I might as well transition to what I’m listening to right now. Miriam Makeba’s African music is just stunning, especially “The Click Song” which I fell in love with precisely third period yesterday. Curse the Americans who can not make clicking noises with their tongue! I’m really jealous. Yesterday, I also had “Tell Me When To Go” by E-40 stuck in my head the entire day. Admit it. You know you want to get hyphy and ghost ride the whip, among other Yay Area things. What else…I’ve heard “Touch My Body” on every car ride and in every store, and no surprise—it’s a pretty solid comeback from Mariah Carey. Tapes N’ Tapes released their new album Walk It Out last Tuesday, and though I haven’t listened to it all that much, what I have heard is sex.

(Just to round off this entry with three paragraphs devoted to music) I’m going on a downloading spree as we speak, which I haven’t done in quite some time. As I went through my usual leaked CDs site I freaked the fuck out when I saw the new DCFC…but of course, it was a fake. Do people really do this? Disguise their own music as a really anticipated new album, so they can force fans to listen to their shit? That’s pretty pathetic, if you ask me. But anyway, I’m hoping the new Santogold is amazing, and that Flight of the Conchords is as funny as everyone says. And of course...the new Ashlee Simpson. Something must be wrong with me today. Or maybe I've just decided to give and take chances.