Hm...a shooting....

Well, this is the first time I've ever written about 'outside world' things in my blog, but I can't help it. Well, it's about the Virginia Tech shooting. Coincidentally, three days short of my birthday, and the anniversary of the Columbine High shooting. Darn, April 20 is downright unlucky--first it was Hitler's Birthday, then this?
Anyway, things like these kept me thinking: If someone run amok at your Uni, what will you do? Run? Hide? Hoping he didn't shoot you? It seems that if people are bitter of the world, they don't pick their victims. just kill.
At that day of the shooting, all I can think about was: Must be a crazy white man, a nerdy junior who get thrown away in garbage cans and forced to eat from the cafeteria drains. Oh, no, I was wrong, and it's a South Korean man. (hey, I though South Koreans are nice. Like Bi/Rain?)
And no, that guy didn't shoot to kill some jock who lock him inside lockers. He was just antisocial, twisted and bitter. And he wrote lots of screenplay that depict gore and hate "and something from a nightmare", a friend had said about him.
Strangely, that sound 'almost' like me. I was that nerd who kept get bullied when I was in grade school, by big, popular girls: either your in their team, or your out. And if you're in, you need to share your lunch, your homework, and sometimes your money with them. And one kid had a bully as a dad. Her dad came to school one to beat up some sense to a kid, and whoo-hoo, that guy was BAD, and if you could imagine a mullet head with a fat little monster as a kid, then congrats, it's them.
There's even a guy learning karate and he beat me up black and blue. What did I do? I told my mom that I had fallen from the stairs and hurt myself. When she found out the real truth and called the school, I wished that I could call in sick the next day. I was afraid of anyone to know? Why am I not even GLAD that somebody found out about that jerk? Mom, well, sometimes when I told her I got bullied, she said "You stupid! Why don't you fight back?"

Well, mom. I'm a girl four feet tall! What can I do?

Then, at the end of the grade school year, I found out that I graduated top of my class, got a trip right to the school's hall of fame, but there is no-one to celebrate it with. And I found out that my friends weren't actually friends...well, FINALLY after five years I had some sense to leave them. But at that time, I was practically antisocial.
Strangely, that was the best time for my writing skills--I got lots of stuffs going on in my brain. No, nothing hate and gore, just depressing stories. (lucky me, or I'll end up like that Virginia Tech guy). I wrote stuffs about teen rage, I got in the red card a few times (that's the disciplinary report card), and I deliberately wrote things in red ink (which prompted a teacher to say "you have an emotional problem, dear." Well, they don't bother to send me to the counselor, since I was still on top of my class, and I was a regular school rep for inter-school competitions. The 'almost last' straw came when when I had a paranoid obsessive-compulsive woman for my English teacher (seriously, she IS.) I don't know how to explain her disorder to you, but I tell you, she IS disturbed (only a disturbed person can detect another). Anyway, she had fight with almost everyone about nothing at all (whenever she had that violent mood swings), and forced every kid to cry when she target them. And you know, I'm the only one who's antisocial enough to sit at the back of the class and not cry at all when she went into her crazy ramblings, or her crazy eyes either. You know what she finally say. "YOU, KID, are troubled. If you keep on like this, you'll grow up DISTURBED." (seriously, y then I realized that I have a problem: everybody cry when they are confronted with a crazy woman; that's normal. But I didn't even flinch (it shocked the whole class even).
I really did became antisocial for three years, and I can't remember ANYTHING that happened when I was fourteen. Really (probably I just sit in class sulking all day)...except the fact that my email name was rage_14@hotmail.com (it doesn't exist anymore). I went like that until I got tired of depression at the end of junior high. I decided that those bullies are out of my life completely, and I'm in a new school, and these classmates of mine are really nice guys.
I did call the Samaritans a couple of times, but they are not much help except repeating whatever you said "So you feel angry and disappointed that your life is so troubled...". Bah! I decided that she (the Samaritans) was giving me a hint: I can't help you, I'm only paid to repeat what you said until you hand up can kill yourself. Only you can solve your own problems.
And I did. Just enjoy all those things that I used to like in grade school: Become the best nerd in class, becoming the teacher's pet, beating every crappy boy in inter-school quizzes, and befriend the class clown. hahah...inner bliss.
I can't say that I've completely changed: I still prefer to avoid people sometimes, and I have a few ideas on an 'action-packed' comic script (hey, no gore, I promise). But looking back, I do change: My 'friend' from grade school used to tease my teeth; I made my teeth 'new' by going to the dentist a couple of years ago. And I used to wear huge, round glasses and 'old school' dresses (My old high school friend thought I still do). Now I do wear glasses, but I wore contacts and dressed to kill (I'm a boho-chick now). Last week my dorm friend from college last year took a whole minute to recognize me before saying HEEEYYY!!! IT'S YOUUUU!!!!
Hmmm, when is the next school reunion

Oh, I forgot; they didn't usually invite me. At least that what Muin, my high school friend said to me.