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Every now and then also use this LJ

Hmm, hello. Yes, sometimes I remember the existence of my little LJ. Now I'm at a stage where its graphic simplicity very much more elaborate templates for blogs. So long as I want, write us. I feel a little strange, I did not since my grandmother died a year ago and I sfogai here. I do not think it was a lot in me that day. It was a part of me that he went unfounded. It will never be replaced.

Thank goodness today is finally out of school = _ =; (Skip to Frasca pole) I could not stand anymore. However this year is definitely better than last year, I know people who by their presence alone helps me to go on, and fortunately they are not daughters of the bigotry of this stupid little town without a future.

Yesterday there was the thing commonly called "Christmas House" or a missed day of school so that every class can make a small show with a lot of awards ceremony at the end. Ergo, a good excuse to do shit. As expected, about 18 people, if they are presented very few. But most of what I expected anyway. Already predict a disaster even greater than last year (When our spirit totally uncaring and uncooperative he had done everything to lead a fight in general) but it went well. So beautiful, actually. We had a few things, but we still managed to do better than anyone else. We were determined not to put our feet on the head by anybody, not now confirm the widespread assumption that we would be the rowdy brats and unreliable. And do you know what? We won. Won. We, who all held up as a class problem with no decent side. And it was one of the greatest satisfactions of my life.

We all tried to do everything, but everyone has taken part in a task which was good. Timur, our metalhead satanist, has even brought along his electric guitar with speaker system! However, we have Johnny dressed as Father Christmas (Santa Claus is a very hairy to be honest ...), then Nadia and Naomi are dressed as girls and pucciose chiccose (part perfectly suited to them I would say), and the Ilaria Vittorio by terrorists, and hostages from Zangarelli and Je. The trick of all was more than perfect, and we had an 'officer lights' (when he opened the curtains were closed and the good times in those raw) and Timur had prepared three pieces: metal version of Jingle Bell, a piece' Raw 'and a' sweet 'typical of the eighties. Then he was even prepared a jam-packed with cream and sugar Pandoro corrempere to the jury ^ _ ^;

Honestly I thought of me out, to help limit Timur with the funds during the recitation, but of course my personal curse never leaves me. For an hour of play, the girls 'organization' a little of everything, have come to me asking me to throw down some piece of presentation and one for the central theme. In practice, I had to connect Santa Claus, the girls pucciose, two terrorists and two hostages in a logical manner.

Panico.

However, I let myself be discouraged, and pulling out the 'best of me' in a flash of inspiration, I managed to throw down some lines that are really fair. Despite having had to infarcile doing good, I hate this stupid system that does not do shows 'serious' in schools, as if we all pretend that everything is fine.

Anyway, that's how the show: Part
background music, the hard part. Here comes the presenter, and reads the lines that I had jotted down, then goes to take care of the lights. The scene opens on a group of terrorists holding hostage two boys. Father Christmas suddenly appear and the two girls pucciose, as if to make contrast with the scene. Father held in his hand a box that gives the terrorist who is about to slaughter the prisoner. The terrorist picks, while the three walked away, then throws it away and starts to kill the hostage. Crashes, there Looking back, it picks up the box. She opens it and finds a letter (the central theme, written by me ... The others wanted to put a feel-good poem Tze) who begins to read aloud

"Dear Santa,
'm a child of 10 years, Given my age and many say I should not believe in you more, but I want to write the same. In me my birth mother gave me only love, but also a disease called AIDS. For this disease, many say that I do not will never be great. So before you fall asleep, I want you I answered some of my questions.

I do not understand this world. Perhaps because they are too small. Why are people always ready to point guns against other people? Why does everyone hurt each other? Usually, those who cause pain because he does not know much, or tried it on himself. But those who inflicted pain had not suffered all this again? And the person before him? And the one before that?
E 'a spiral of pain with no beginning and no end. The men, therefore, can not conceive a world without pain? It has become so deeply a part of them can not be forgotten?

I have only one wish, the last one: for one day, one day, the adults could not put down their guns and try to listen to the voices of our children? And not just those seeking toys and gifts, but also those that suffering people ask "Why say you love us so much if you do this? Why we are leaving a world full of pain to live? E '* this * your love?"

would just like this, just for one day. You could not fulfill my wish?
Now I feel tired, so tired. And now I go to sleep. I do not know if I ever wake up, but my desire to achieve the same right?

Love,
a child. "The terrorist

holding the letter, it should be the other guy, and gave it to him. He reads it, and the pellets thrown to the ground, still pointing the gun at the hostage. The terrorist then try to snatch hand, and there is a fight, but he rejects it and starts to kill the prisoner. There is a moment of suspension, he trembles, and finally throws down his rifle picking up the letter. The law again, then along with his girlfriend free the prisoners and they hug.

And I come in with the hand cream pandoro corrupt to corrupt the jury Deheheh ^ _ ^.

The moment the ceremony was beautiful. Thanks to a spy in the jury, we knew we had won, but I would not believe it until the end. And when the representative of the Institute, said the name of our class, there was a general cry wild and liberating. We all looked amazed; II B in the first place! Impossible. Yet it is success. E 'was exciting, jumping and screaming when we climbed the stairs, singing and taking the prize in triumph. We have shown who we are and what we do, we are not only the class and confusing mess, only able to reply to prof.

Today was a nightmare for me, all asking me to let him read the letter, transcribed, photocopied, it can be recorded with your mobile phone ... Even the deputy came to ask me to be able to make a photocopy to make it to the headmaster read (on holiday for a month in South America) and there I took a wink ... ^ ^ 'Yes, because despite the convict doing good, I was not very politically correct, and the dean is a woman all of a piece. We hope to have no problems O_o;