[ 05-09-03 ] [ 7:31 p.m.]
[ From high to low in an hour flat ]

Today was a very up-and-down day. Up as high as it's possible to go one minute, and down to the Valley of Despair the next.

Today's emotional highs and lows rivaled those that I reach in one week alone.

I've just spent the last two hours, solid, crying. For two entirely different reasons on two entirely different ends of the spectrum.

It's no wonder I'm exhausted.

School was all right today. I did some things that I care not to mention here, because of certain people who read this diary that would definitely not approve, but let's just say that I got into a fight with a safety pin and the safety pin won. It was an okay day, not too high, not too low, just average.

Then I got home and my life went into a tailspin.

It all started when my stepdad told me off for calling my dad by his first name to his face. The story behind that is since I was fifteen, I've gotten a kick out of calling my dad his first name, Bob, in a loud obnoxious voice. Eventually, I started calling him Bob more and more. I asked him if he minded, and when he said he couldn't care less if I called him Dad or Bob, I kept calling him Bob. This is now totally normal to me, my dad, my mom, and all my friends. It's even so normal that all my friends call him Bob because they see that I do. In fact, my dad would probably laugh if any of them called him "Mr." like I'm supposed to do for all the rest of my friends' dads.

Anyway, my stepdad thinks that when I call my dad Bob, I'm being highly disrespectful. Even though I've told my dad that if it's ever unappropriate for me to call him Bob, that he should tell me to stop. I explained this to Doug (stepdad... I don't think I've ever referred to him by his first name in this diary), who didn't seem to care. Well, I took it with a level head and just went back to my room.

Later, when my mom got home, she came in my room and told me that Doug told her about our "conversation". We had a nice discussion about why I hate living in this house, and then the phone rang for Doug and my mom left for a little while. During this time, (ugh... this is turning into daylog) I wanted to get the sandwich my mom bought for me, and I overheard Doug saying some not-so-nice things about me.

Somewhere along the lines of: "She treats everyone like shit" and "she's a fucking whiner", et cetera.

My reaction? Turn around, walk back to bedroom, lock door, remove screen from window, get the hell out.

Oh, and cry. Break down into fits of sobbing that would embarrass anyone.

I actually didn't get out the window before my mom got the key to unlock the door. Then we had another nice discussion about why I really hate living in this house.

And then... (and again, I apologize for the daylog) Mom suggested that I walk with her to get the mail. Well, I didn't want to do that, because Doug was outside and I didn't want to face him while I was crying, so she went alone. When she got back, she held up a nice white envelope emblazoned with the letters "ACT".

And I thought: "Oh, shit..."

So... (more daylog... meh!) we sat on the bed, and I pulled out the results, and I swear to God at first I thought I was looking at someone else's sheet.

A 27. No shitting.

A 27 puts me in the top 10% of the nation. It puts me in the range to get into nearly any college I could possibly want, if I had the GPA to go with it. It puts me into an intellectual class, at least on paper, that I thought I would never achieve.

Upon consulting with Carol, I've learned this: national average on the ACT is 19. Wisconsin state average is 22. Neenah High School average is 24.

Oh my God!

When I walked out of the ACT building on April 12, I thought I would be lucky to get a 24. Even though I knew I did well in the english and reading department, I didn't think they would be enough to salvage my horrid math grade.

Apparently, I thought wrong.

My math grade wasn't even that bad, considering my terrible math skills, and the fact that a lot of the questions were Algebra II, or translated: things from a class I won't take until next year. My overall math score was 23, a 71%. Pretty good for me.

Science was a 25, an 85%. Decent.

Reading skills, a 30. A 92%. English, a 29, a 94%.

Told you the reading and English were easy.

Alright, now I'm not going to brag anymore, because even though I did absolutely awesome on the ACT, my lovely evening of roller-coaster-ism has to take another dip yet.

While I was telling my grandma the good news about the ACT, Doug all of a sudden gets up, puts on his shoes, says to my mom "I'll see you tomorrow", and leaves. I knew it was because I was so happy about the score that he left, and so I started crying, went to my room, and this time I did get the whole way out the window.

I finally decided that it wasn't worth it to run away. Sarah had told me the horror stories from her attempt.

And my mom and I had yet another nice discussion on why I really, really hate living in this house.

And why she's still married to Doug, a guy who obviously doesn't love her anymore, if he even did at all.

Between the two separate episodes with Doug and the elation over my ACT, I'm thoroughly wiped.

I think sleep will be quite therapeutic.

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