A life in the day of…

Its 7am and once again the painful sensation repetitive phone of the appal on my phone rings again. As I unflurried puzzle my eyes closed, I feel slightly the floor for my phone to stop the alarm. aft(prenominal) ten seconds I find the cancel plainlyton, the alarm is still ringing in my ears. Eventually I open my eyes to find nothing just blackenedness. I feel as dead as Kurt Cobain. I stumble to the door and pull subject the cold handle. As I open the door, I hear the sound of the T. V down steps. I sit on the top step of the steep stairs knowing if I were to try and walk I would more or less probably fall.When I crap the bottom I see my Dad lying on the sofa looking half-dead watching the T. V. I swear good morning, he replies with a simple g returnt. I walk break through the kitchen, look out of the window, the sun shines so brightly, I cant see a thing. To perk up myself up, I stumble into the s as well asl as if I am drunk to take a exhibitor. As soon as I de fine into the shower I started to feel awake. I am enjoying a quiet, relaxing shower when all of a sudden my twelve year old babe pushes the bath mount door open so hard that it hits the sink. The noise of that is so loud that it makes me jump a mile.I shout at her so loudly the firm began to rumble. Around 730 I depart from my shower. I run upstairs very quickly as I only have a towel loosely wrapped around my waist. After that I upchuck my school uniform on, my white polo shirt, black trousers and my black sweater. I pick up my big black bag which I had packed last night and once again walk downstairs to the chaos of ceaselesslyyone demoraliseting ready for drop dead or school. I can see the steam coming out of my p arnts head from the stress and tidy sum of the morning. I pick up a shining, shark, smooth-spoken knife from the kitchen and a loaf of bread from the kitchen and make myself a nutella sandwich.Its 815 and I have the bulky walk of approximately twenty metres to limit to my cumulus stop, also known as a video shop. As I walk my shoes make a loud sound like a horse walking. After five proceeding of conferenceing about girls and music the Red Submarine bus arrives. Yet again we have the same cheery device driver with a chin ring, six earrings and a nose stud. All eighteen of us at the bus stop run onto the bus like a herd of galloping rhinos. I jump onto a seat with Sean and exaltation near the door of the bus. We drive up the hill towards the nest bus stop at a maximum of three mph.Once all fellow pupils have been picked up in Maesycoed, the fag bags start puffing away upstairs. I strike up to the driver about the smell of the fags but he does nothing. After twenty legal proceeding of torture the bus finally arrives at Coedylan Prison, late as ever and yet again, we are the last people into school. I pull the cold plate metal of the front entrance doors of the prison. As I try to flock to get to registration, I am trapped by some body walking as slow as a slug. At last my path has been unblocked and hence I have to walk up the step staircase to get to the year ten registration corridor.I arrive at my registration means just in time for the register. I sit down and deferral for my name to be called on the register. Amy, Sophie, Ian.. until veritable(a)tually my name is called. Miss Hambling is a very laid bear out teacher who will let the class do what we require as long as the register is done. After the register, the class dialog until the windup of registration. At 905 I leave my reg to head for the first joyful lesson of the day, English with the teacher tat has clever ideas on how to wake her up in the morning.Miss Angells cat jumps on her bladder so that she has to wake up to go the toilet and so that she would feed the cat. During the lesson, Christian usually uses his annoying repetitive noisy behaviour to do something to me and the rest of the class laugh. The rest of the lesson I finish wri ting up my essay. At 955 the repetitive, noisy, silver bell rings for second lesson. I am relieved because my arm is starting to ache but also disappointed because I like English. guerilla lesson, I cant even walk into the room and I already hear Stand behind your chairs.And hence Sit down heading is quadratic equations, accent it with a ruler. As the lesson progresses, the tiredness creeps up on everyone. Page upon page organism written on. Graphs to be drawn on blue form paper. I feel as if my arm is about to drop off. Waiting and waiting for the magic haggle pack away. At 1055, finally, the magic words have been said as well as a yell of, Stand behind your chairs As the chairs get pushed along the dusty floor the most high pitched noise I ever heard is being made and it is making the hairs on the back of my neck stick out. Five minutes later, First rowSecond row. Finally break time. The joy of chatting about girls and rock music and getting kicked in the shins or slapped by Kerry Adams. This takes place in a small area cramped with munchkins and lanky people. The sound of people rattling their money as if theyre Bill Gates waiting to go to the refreshment machines. I stand near the door and when I saw someone just about to open the door I pushed Brian Mackinnon against it. While Brian is moaning in pain everybody else is laughing. This happened continually until the end of break when the bell rings for third lesson. Biology, the outstrip lesson of the day.Go in sit down for five minutes chatting and gyping Abi Hughes. After that neat time, Timmy starts reading out of a book and then the class has to write it out. Everyone calls him Timmy because some of the teachers do. After that short, boring waste of time, Timmy starts to draw something on the white board which he always calls a blackboard because he is still living in the past. During the next ten minutes we have to copy down the com determinee and then we can talk. When we started talking P ringles got told off for gyping Abi and Bedgood gets told off for trying to bite Pringles ear.This is still happening and its intimately time for the bell when, Weve got time, so well copy down this equation. I sigh but copy down the equation, once I finished I pack away just as the bell is ringing. At 1155 I arrive at my I. C. T lesson with Mrs Plant. Walk in, sit down and turn on my usual com fructifyer on era a couple of people are having races and spinning around on the blue swivel chairs. Trying to move through the middle of them is like avoiding being fired at or trying not to fall into shell holes on a battle field.Finally Mrs Plant has arrived and the war is caught in satisfy and both places warned for the rest of the lesson. Obviously, I laugh. Mrs Plant calls everyone to the middle of the classroom where there are several tables. I slid along the floor like a motorcar on ice on a Winters morning. Mrs Plant swallows to explain the lesson, I have to finish designing my disco tickets and print them out. Gavin says Mrs Plant, the fear rose up in me, Could you do me a favour, as those words are spoken I made a sigh of relief. Please go to the staff corridor and into the staffroom to get laser for the printer.I walk to the staff corridor without a question until, What are you doing down here? It was one of the secretaries. I explained what I am attempting to do so she goes to get it and told me not to go down the staff corridor again but to ask at the office next time. I nod my head and then walk off through the long, dusty corridor holding a big box in both hands. I walk into class and am greeted with a thank you. I walk to my computer and load up Microsoft Word and the file Disco tickets. Within the space of ten minutes, a voice from the other end of the classroom yells, Gavin my friend, come help me please.It is Charlotte who I then helped, after completing the task, Susan asks the same thing so I help her also. I go back to my computer and beg in to work as fast as light. At 1238 I complete the work and ask Mrs Plant to put the laser in the printer so I am able to print out my work. As the bell goes the tickets are just printing. I put them into my file and leave for the canteen. Through the everywherecrowded, noisy corridors of Coedylan, I eventually reach the canteen and sit with the usual people on the right hand nerve of the canteen.I am surrounded by Adam and Gregg who are trying to steal my chocolate bars from my lunch box with the green lid. As I quickly eat my food, the canteen kick the buckets more and more crowded and the lines become much longer. I finish my lunch and head back to the Bytezone. I squeeze my bag on the pile of bags already on the floor and walk all everyplace to my friend Grant but then I get surrounded by Kerry and her clang who are wearing their pyjamas to raise money for charity. At that hideous sight, I began to cry and fall to the ground. I am then asked if I indigence to go for a w alk around the school.When I get to the back it is horrific, people spitting, smoking, I cant help but laugh at their stupidity. As we broaden on walking we get to the basketball court where people from year eleven play football. While walking around the edge of the court, Grant is nearly hit on the head with a football. As we walk back into the Bytezone the machines just turned off and somebodys money has got stuck in thee chocolate machine. I go to talk to Kerrys clang half of them are sitting on the tables. It sounds like Pontypridd Park pool in the Summer with everyone talking or screaming.Grant and I flip-flop phones so we can look at each others messages and all of a sudden a hand appears by the side of me and tries to steal Grants phone so she could have a look. I look at my watch and realise that the bell is about to go so I get my bag and wait for the bell to go at the bottom of the stairs. The bell goes and all of a sudden everyone starts running up the stairs. I walk in to my registration classroom followed by other members of my disruptive reg class. As soon as Miss Hambling walks into the room she starts to call the register as there is not much time in afternoon reg.After about ten names she has to stop because Scott has disrupted her as usual. After another ten names, Miss Hambling is disrupted again but this time by the annoying Johnny. The register is being finished just as the bell goes. Now, the quick run through the corridor so I dont get caught up in the jam, but when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I am caught right in the middle of it. Luckily I am not caught up for long and I am first into the classroom. I go to my usual seat on the back row and get my Physics book out of my big, heavy bag and also my pencil case.As I am doing this the rest of the class stumbles through the door. Pringles and Adam both sit either side of me like always and Pringles asks me for a pen yet again. For Physics I have Mr Thomas, hes kool, he always lets h ave a joke in lessons. He tells the class to get their homework out so that we can mark it. This takes up fifteen minutes of the lesson. Now, Mr Thomas is telling everyone to go sit around the back desks so that we can watch a experiment. It is a steam train that is run by the water boiling with one exception, its not working(a) properly.As the lesson is progressing, time is going kinda fast. As Mr Thomas is talking, the bells ringing. We all go to get our bags and now we can leave. Now, I have German, probably the best lesson of the day. I walk into the Sunshine room, which is what Mrs Hewitt calls it because apparently the sun always shines in that room. Today is going to be the second time that I will gratify the German student Christiana. As soon as everyone is settled, Mrs Hewitt tells my half of the class to go to another room with Christiana for her to teach us for the first half of the lesson.I walk across the corridor and into a empty room where Christiana then put a map on the OHP. On this we have to say how to get to a building from a certain place. This went on for the first half of the lesson until we changed with the other half of the class. I walk back to the Sunshine room where Mrs Hewitt is waiting for us. As we are all sat down and quiet she starts to explain about a trip to Kiln for the Christmas markets. Now, we are moving to translating role-plays from English to German. They are both about directions which is quite fun.Before I knew it the bell had gone, so everyone packed up and now we are all rushing to our sheds so that we dont have to stand up. The mad rush in the corridors is like a running track at the Olympics. I run onto the red shamrock shed and sit downstairs for a change. I have made a good choice because the driver walked upstairs and gave everyone a warning for something. When the driver got back downstairs, he sat in his seat and he shut the big glass doors with green handles and off we go at the maximum speed of three mp h and four mph down hill. Adam puts his CD player on and lets me listen to one of the earphones.We are listening to Kerrang 4, which is the best album ever created. I finally arrive at my bus stop, at the end of my street, at last I am off that excuse for a vehicle. I open the door of my mansion and before I can even say Hello my cousin has his arms around me and hes telling me about his day in school, but now I am skin perceptiveness tired, so all I want to do is sleep. I turn on the T. V to the Storm, its a modern rock radio station. My favourite D. J is on at the moment, he is Deano. I have sat down for five minutes and the phone is ringing already.Its Adam asking me if I want to go to Ponty. I cant be bothered but I will because thankfully I have no homework. I walk up the stairs and open my big brown bedroom door and to my surprise my clothes are already out ready for me to wear. I put on my dark blue baggy jeans and my black Nirvana hoodie with a picture of Kurt Cobain on the back of it. I walk back downstairs, say goodbye to my cousin and my Nan. I am going to the end of my long street which has a pub, a Chinese and a video shop where Adam is waiting. On the way we talk about how much fun the Sum 41 concert is going to be.We arrive in Ponty and head for Woolworths. In Woolworths we look at the rock albums and singles. hug drug minutes I get a little bored and even more tired now. At 445 we leave Woolworths and head for the swings in the park. While walking through I see our friends Becky, Amy, Stacie and Nathalie and we go to the swings with them. We talk about rock music over and over and how much we hate stick out music. Its 630 so the park is about to close. The silence of nobody around is relaxing but then the peace is disturbed by the sound of our baggy jeans dragging on the floor.When we reach Ponty, Adam and I depart from the girls and head for our homes in the pitch black apart from a few flicker street light. I keep looking around to make sure nobody is following us. I am now home. Hello fellow family members I say with a chirpy voice. I then walk towards the bathroom so I can brush my teeth before I go to bed. I walk into the lounge. Im off to bed now. Its only 900 but Im extremely tired. I think about how cool it would be if I could become a very talented rock star like Kurt Cobain. I would call my band Yawn A Life In The Day OfAt around 7 ooam on yet another dull and monotonous school day, my alarm rings. The shrill ear-piercing sounds and death-dance of my mobile phone attempts almost vainly to gravel me back from oblivion. So loud that in the process of waking me up this wakes the rest of the house as well, (this will later make me the victim of taunts, vexing and severe punch-ups between my three older brothers and me). I am usually forced out of bed, like a caterpillar breaking away from its cocoon, or tormented until I come round with the use of such agonizing instruments or procedures as the wet flannel or the glass of water over my head.After my torment and persecution, I stagger across the room with eyes still glazed over from around 8 hours of glorious sleep and, with an omnipotent thud, strike my hazily strike my ongoing alarm clock and watch it fall to the ground. With my eyes still twitching, gradually opening to the sight of raw sunlight gleaming through my curtains that have been rudely opened by my insensitive capture, I eventually make it to the bathroom and, because of our feeble, pathetic and broken shower, decide to run a bath.Cleanliness and external appearance is of great importance to me and a lot of other people coming through in this new generation. So, I put on my uniform. This is the one thing I enjoy about school as there is no deciding of what to wear, will it look good does it go with these shoes, just one set of clothes that can never go wrong. I then stumble downstairs, as unfit as I am, still stiff and taut from yesterdays game of football. Then with m y ravenous and short-tempered self, attack the fridge like a man possessed, clutching the nearest and often tastiest piece of food, even if it is the remnants of last nights Chinese take-away.Once my journey to the fridge is complete (this usually takes around 10 minutes ascribable to my laziness, and the time taken pondering over whether or not I can be bothered to get up out of my seat), I embark on the stairs, which to me at this time in the morning seem to be like a colossal mountain of sea green carpet. And, once at the top, I realise that in fact, due to the irony of my life, my toothbrush and paste have been tidied and taken downstairs by my once again insensitive mother, whose answer is repeatedly well who else is going to do the tidying then. Thankfully, after all this there are little immature quarrels over who gets to use the bathroom first as my brother who is still studying leaves the house later than me, because of his career as a professional footballer (oh how I do envy him, as he is able to take his time in the morning and yet still gets to play football for a living. Finally, I am ready to leave and the sacrifice made just for a kindle to school involves a promise to do more chores or household tasks later in the day, yet I still end up being late due to the slowness of my mother and sister, whose life just seems to revolve around the Tweenies (How I do envy her).In more peaceful moments I often contemplate whether the extra ten minutes lie-in compensates for the un-enjoyable rush I have to endure everyday, but that 10 minutes is an eternity to me. And comments from my mother like you need to get more organised, your brother was never like this, and the old favourite your convey and I used to walk 10 miles just to get to school and in our bare feet, only seek to annoy me.After the complex procedure of getting everybody in the car, the journey commences at about 815am and the complete journey involves my younger sister crying for the cheek y girls and me in the front arguing my right to either revise or select my choice of radio station, if not against my sister, then my mother. It is the usual battle of Galaxy fm v Radio 4. As I arrive at school, my mothers somewhat futile attempts to park the car and later assault me, by trying to kiss me on the cheek amuse my friends as they pass.Once at school I immediately drop my bags and proceed to the metro station, an unofficial youth club, to meet my friends. However this all seems rather tedious until the Central game girls arrive and the sight of a mini-skirt makes the wait completely worthwhile. The day monotonously goes by, with each lesson inevitably uninteresting in its own way, until the joy of the long-awaited tuck-shop is appreciated, with its selection of fine sweets and hot, steaming succulent sandwiches, each as good as each other.As the lessons persist towards lunchtime, the hunger and tension draw near and the shiftiness and devotion of the pupils become more apparent in the last five minutes of the lesson time and as the impatience and intolerance become more increase, people begin gradually and stealthily to shuffle books into their bags and look at their watches, too disgusted at the effrontery of the French teacher for keeping the class five minutes longer to discuss the application of the ultimately pointless past tense.Then, three loud rings signal lunch time and the class is promptly dispatched. At lunchtime, I usually enjoy a game of football, which ends up in me being late for lunch and lessons and becoming extremely sweaty. However, I believe in continually playing football in order to improve and become fitter, so that I can hopefully someday follow in my brothers footsteps in becoming a professional footballer, as this is what I enjoy doing most of all.I do also enjoy school however as long as I am not behind in work (this usually stops me from playing football at lunchtimes as I continually have something on my mind). I enj oy economics and am fascinated by the world of business and media, thus possibly leading me to a upcoming career in either of these. Yet as lunchtime dawns upon us, the sun is exposed and my day is suddenly all the better for it, compared to the dreary, depressing clouds and bleak die hard in the morning as I am still waking up.In the afternoon, once again the lessons slowly progress and once again the shuffling and shiftiness return towards the end of the day, all to save an extra five to ten minutes. At the end of the day, if I am not playing football, I head home and by around 530pm I can be started on my homework, so long as my mother nags at me enough. At home we have a very hectic household and I sometimes find it difficult to concentrate on just one thing, such as trying to attempt my maths homework when there is the constant ringing of the phone or my brother forever chatting to his girlfriend.There is also my sister wanting someone to play with her, the noise of the comp uter and the television. And, due to my other brothers strange profession of being a busker, he is forever making derisory things for his show, for example hammering nails into a bed of nails. Even though it always seems that as soon as I get started, my mother or father is calling for dinnertime and lamenting the fact that the family never eats together enough and so I never get started.But I always try to complete my homeworks, even if it means staying up past midnight. However I do get to take my breaks, when my mother is busy, I sneak into the games room for a quick fifteen minutes on my play station, or sometimes just downstairs to watch television, with the repeated arguments every night over who gets to choose what programme to watch, with the forever ongoing debate or war over The Simpsons v The Discovery Channel.At long last I reach bedtime. As I return to the bliss of my furry, comfortable and warm bed, like a baby crawling back to its womb. Exhausted from going to bed to o late after playing on the play station for too long and planning to go to bed early tomorrow night, I picture gallery off to sleep, but we all know it will never happen, dont we?