Allergies/My Amazing Ability To Go Off Topic Once Again

            Stupid allergies. I feel like crap in the morning and get better before I can get out of school. Then I come home and my body's like: "Oh, let's make her feel miserable when she can't benefit from it!" This is what I get for going outside. Which is ironic because:
My childhood:
Outside: (Grabs red beret, brown exploring jacket, and frog jump rope while humming the Indiana Jones theme song.) "Allergies? Nope, never had 'em, never will. Wanna play treasure hunters?"
Inside: (Ballerina outfit. Tiara worn upside down because I was being a princess superhero. Spinning for no apparent reason.) "What is this 'motion sickness' you speak of?"
School: (Actually TALKING TO PEOPLE!!! *gasp* Wearing random dress I like because I have it and if I don't wear it than what's the point?) "I'm making a newspaper, want to help?"
If I saw three or more crayola markers in one setting, I had to stick them together and wave them around.
I read the Landry News by Andrew Clements and made my own newspaper with my friends.
I cried when I waited all day for recess to pass them out and they took them away while I was gone.
I was dang weird.
I realized people expected me to be different when I went to sixth grade. I learned how to play the trumpet and went to honor band. They gave us a short break to get some exercise or something, the area was a grassy hill. I remember wandering down a ways and sitting down thinking: What the heck are we supposed to do? After awhile I accidentally tumbled down the hill. And accidentally did it over and over again on purpose until somebody acknowledged my weirdness and hurt my feelings a bit. I then spent the next to years of my life working out the difference between being a kid and being a kid that is supposed to go a school day without recess.
Me now:
Outside: Nope.
Inside: I'm going to work on my stories. No YouTube, go away. Aw, what the heck.
(Hours later) Starting to write. "Get off the computer." Mom! I'm writing! "Now."
(Get's off)
Has inspiration.
Darn it.
School:So...much...shyness...cannot...even.
I hate it when the class ends and you haven't finished doodling.
I worry about making the facial expressions I make in my daydream when I'm spacing out.
I think I was more fashionable when I was six than I am now.
            So, I go off on another tangent about my life. But this time it was actually vaguely connected to my previous topic. Progress!

T.Y.G.E.R.