cutting your teeth on several large meat cleavers

::page two::

Now. The beloved subject of every whiny anti-high school diatribe. Our school's "endorsed supporters." (Moonhuck prefers the term "school-sponsored prostitutes.") The cheer staff. In our school we have three denominations: the traditional cheerleaders, color guard ("flag team"), and the drill team. The cheerleaders are generally the typical popular, sluttish type. There have been rumors of lesbian orgies (no joke) amidst these girls. They are what we call a "joke." The drill team members are, in general, a good deal less promiscuous and scandalous, but they are catty and bitchy and two-faced. There are a good deal more drill team members than cheerleaders, which increases the clone factor. I do enjoy watching their performances, though, they are entertaining. And then...there's color guard. Traditionally, these are the girls who don't make cheer or drill. They are typically either A)overweight, B)socially inept, and/or C)kind of gross. There are endless archives of color guard jokes. My friend muttered as they entered the gym, marching to one of their many musically accompanied flag-hurling routines: "That's not the bass." True to their drill and cheer mimicry, these girls also strive to be catty, bitchy, and sexually liberated. The result is, predictably, horrifying. The sexuality wielded by cheerleaders is seen as a sort of weapon or tool, and girls try to emulate this kind of brainless behavior. Everyone makes light of the cheerleaders, but they still bow down to them as though they were demi-gods. There is no respect involved, but there is power. the freshmen For all intents and purposes, I have given up on the freshmen. My freshmen year, I was a pissy little shit would hated the world. And I couldn't blame anyone in that situation. They still annoy every ounce of good grace out of me, but I give them a one year grace period before I write them off as empty-headed or snotty. You have to have standards, you know. The freshmen in my photography class have made me this way. They just seem so superficial, like there wasn't a goddamn thing they could do without being little freaks who had excessively bad attitudes. But, I'm also convinced that I feel this way because I deal with them in the ungodly morning hours when I have gone without food for about twelve hours. Puts me in kind of an angry stupor. I smash around the darkroom, glaringly (ineffectively) at the gaggles of freshmen who clog my smooth, free path. They're all afraid of me, but not enough to cease their freakish and annoying behavior. I believe it's inherent. Of course, I feel for them. I remember all too clearly the very awkward and painful pot of mixed sensations that high school immersed me, kicking and screaming, into. I liken the experience to being lowered naked into a pit of boiling tar teeming with mutant heat-adaptable pirahnas who are all singing "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion. Give them time, I suppose. And muzzles. Strong ones. Shit.