Thanksgiving provyala v Bostone.
Fignya polnaya.
Bolshe ne hochu k Muraviyevim.
.-.

V subotu umer uchitel russkogo yazika. Poka-poka moyemu pravopisaniyu... Teper tochno levim budet.
Chestno govorya, uchitel bil horoshiy. A ya s nim ne videlas s nachala leta... Mishe zaviduyu - ona k nemu kazhduyu nedelu yezdila, a na nas starshih u nego sil ne hvatalo.
Inogda plakat hochetsya - pochemu normalniye ludi dolzhni umirat ot togo, ot chego idioti ne figa ne dohnut?
I pochemu uchitelya ne mogla zamenit v smerti voditelnitsa shkolnogo avtobusa, kotoraya menya kazhdoye utro otravlyaet sigaretnim dimom, s kotorogo ya dishat ne mogu?
Legkaya depressiya - ne obrashyayte vnimaniya.


Krome etogo, use narmalno. Translit.ru, Moyra, menya k sozhaleniyu zadolbal, tak chto.. Mne tak udobneye.

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Thanksgiving was celebrated in Boston, with family friends.
NOT doing that again... But I know we must.

Our Russian teacher died this Saturday. Which really makes me rather sad, because while I haven't seen him since the beginning of summer, sister dear has been attending classes every week - and got to see him then. I liked him, too...
It makes me want to cry - people this world needs die from the same things that fail to kill idiots. Makes me wonder why it couldn't have been my school bus driver, who poisons me with cigarette smoke each and every weekday morning....
I'm ever so slightly depressed.
Don't mind it too horribly much.

Current Location: Home - where else?
Current Mood: Unfair little life..
Current Music: Nighwish - 7 Days to the Wolves