scarlet tinted suburbia ... open 24 hours

I got the comments thing fixed, so no one has an excuse not to squawk.
I've been thinking about some things lately. (I know, thank God right? I've been thinking of things.) But really. Today in Health class we were meditating (I know.. I haven't gotten to the part where thought is involved. Just be patient. Oh look, now I've built up this big expectation in your mind that I was thinking something very deep and insightful when in fact it is quite contrary. And I digress.) My health teacher does pilates, and she said our stress essays freaked her out so much. But we have some mega overacheivers in my class who will anonymously be known as Eivra g.c.m. and so on and so forth. Even I wrote about how I never have a free second to myself. (IS THIS Big Llama On Guinea a typing contradiction or what? "I never have a moment to myself" but I write in this almost every day. It's funny right? And I digress oncemore.) People always tell you that high school is your 'glory days' but I don't really see how it is. Lately "I've been wondering if there's more to life than this" (quotations lessen the degree of cliche). I feel like I go to school (note the additional period they added at my school this year.. so 40 minutes longer then I'm used to.. with 20 minute lunches now), go home, do as much homework as I can before my SAT Tutor, not to mention that homework, which is more stressful then most things due to my pending fear and anxiety that I won't get > 1350 on my SATs and I won't get to go to the colleges I like and Nadnerb and I will break up and there goes my life. So then after the SAT Tutor I have to do as much homework as possible and race to get it done before 9:15 ish so I have enough time to talk to Nadnerb on the phone before bed. I could be a walking dead person but I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I wanted to. I take 3 aspirins a day for my habitual headache, I suffer one of those stress upheavals where you're crying and tired and in a foul mood at least once a week, I have to stay after every single day for this meeting or that extra help. But it's not even clubs I legitimately LIKE, it's clubs I tolerate because I know I have to do them. This past week I saw my boyfriend from 2:30 until 9:30 on Sunday. If you do the math that is 4% of the week, 7 hours out of 168. And you know what I really want to do? Learn to play the piano. I can listen to "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" by Billy Joel a thousand times and every time I envision myself whaling on a baby grand. Maybe in forever and a day.
Song to download: Azure Ray - Displaced