Mick Jagger went back to his old school recently-for the first time since he left in 1961.He was invited to the school to open the 'Mick Jagger Performing Arts centre',a new música and drama department at Dartford Grammar School.
Jagger said that he was 'honoured' that the centre was name after him.But in a newspaper interview 2 days before he told the journalist that in fact he hated school and that he used to be a rebel.
He didn't use to do the homework-'there was far too much'-and he was continually at war with the teachers.He used to break the rules all the time,especially rules he thought were stupid,about how to wear the school uniform and things like that.Once he even organized a mass protect against 'appalling' school dinners.'It was probably the greatest contribution to school I ever made,' he said.Although he made a good start at school,Jagger said his school work deteriorated because of 'music and girls'.
However,according to one of his old school friends,musician Dick Taylor,this is not true.He says that Mick didn't use to be a rebel at all-he was quite bright an used to work hard.He also used to do a lot of sport.
When Mick Jagger left school,he had 7 O-levels and 2 A-levels,which at that time were god qualifications-so perhaps Dick's memory is better than Mick's...
Jagger said that he was 'honoured' that the centre was name after him.But in a newspaper interview 2 days before he told the journalist that in fact he hated school and that he used to be a rebel.
He didn't use to do the homework-'there was far too much'-and he was continually at war with the teachers.He used to break the rules all the time,especially rules he thought were stupid,about how to wear the school uniform and things like that.Once he even organized a mass protect against 'appalling' school dinners.'It was probably the greatest contribution to school I ever made,' he said.Although he made a good start at school,Jagger said his school work deteriorated because of 'music and girls'.
However,according to one of his old school friends,musician Dick Taylor,this is not true.He says that Mick didn't use to be a rebel at all-he was quite bright an used to work hard.He also used to do a lot of sport.
When Mick Jagger left school,he had 7 O-levels and 2 A-levels,which at that time were god qualifications-so perhaps Dick's memory is better than Mick's...
Scraping at the boughs,
Unknowns becomeths known,
Where shards break across my skin as my mind is shredded into nothing.
How did I get here?
How did I become this?
How do I get out?
Trapped inside a thousand mirrors,
Seeing so many façades,
Which one is me?
Carved up and bleeding,
Happy unconscious,
Pepped up to go?
Nails scratch into my brain,
As I pick apart memories,
For a clue.
An inkling.
An idea.
Lost!
I’m so lost!
Where do I fit in anymore?
Who am I?
And how did I wind up here?
Unknowns becomeths known,
Where shards break across my skin as my mind is shredded into nothing.
How did I get here?
How did I become this?
How do I get out?
Trapped inside a thousand mirrors,
Seeing so many façades,
Which one is me?
Carved up and bleeding,
Happy unconscious,
Pepped up to go?
Nails scratch into my brain,
As I pick apart memories,
For a clue.
An inkling.
An idea.
Lost!
I’m so lost!
Where do I fit in anymore?
Who am I?
And how did I wind up here?
I slammed the car door shut, and faced the school.
"Have a good dia sweetie," Mom said, somewhat hopefully from the drivers seat. Just the words made me want to ball up and cry. She drove away, leaving me in the dust. I would not survive this day.
Not that I deserve to.
I clutched my books to my chest, and tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ground. But I still felt their eyes on me.
"Bitch," they muttered.
"She deserves to die," others said. Didn't they know I want to? Didn't they know how much strength it took to keep breathing? And when I did, it was the everlasting pain that nearly brought me to my death. But I could only hope.
But they didn't know this. They just knew it was my fault. And it was. It was all my fault for what had happened.
And I'd live with this guilt till I die.
*****************************
Please let me know if I should continue this; I don't know if I should.
"Have a good dia sweetie," Mom said, somewhat hopefully from the drivers seat. Just the words made me want to ball up and cry. She drove away, leaving me in the dust. I would not survive this day.
Not that I deserve to.
I clutched my books to my chest, and tried to keep my eyes fixed on the ground. But I still felt their eyes on me.
"Bitch," they muttered.
"She deserves to die," others said. Didn't they know I want to? Didn't they know how much strength it took to keep breathing? And when I did, it was the everlasting pain that nearly brought me to my death. But I could only hope.
But they didn't know this. They just knew it was my fault. And it was. It was all my fault for what had happened.
And I'd live with this guilt till I die.
*****************************
Please let me know if I should continue this; I don't know if I should.
I need to find a name for my character. She is a twelve ano old girl with short, kinda boyish blonde hair. She has a curious and Mischievous personality and a tomboyish attitude. She loves Music, she plays piano and violão, guitarra and can play the Saxaphone really well. She is also very good in school. She has green eyes and likes to draw and write. Her main flaw is when she makes mistakes she has trouble realising that she is only human, and humans make mistakes. I am trying to find a good name but I am having a lot of trouble. Please help!
Introduction
Everybody has a friend. Someone to talk to, to share your secrets with. Someone in this cold cruel world that you could trust. A friend doesn't exactly have to be a person. It could be a pet, a journal-sometimes a banana-or even a rock. A friend doesn't have to be real, either. A character from a story or movie, perhaps? But that's still something everyone can look at, hear, or feel. Well, some of those make-believe friends, not actors, are things only you can look at, hear, and feel. Now those are called imaginary friends, as you probably know. Imaginary friends can be anything you want them to be. An animal, a creature you made up, a monster, or just another human being. There are rare cases when special people have imaginary friends that...are not exactly in the afterlife. But, no matter what, whatever kind of friend it is, that one true friend will always be there for you.
Always.
Always.
Always...
Everybody has a friend. Someone to talk to, to share your secrets with. Someone in this cold cruel world that you could trust. A friend doesn't exactly have to be a person. It could be a pet, a journal-sometimes a banana-or even a rock. A friend doesn't have to be real, either. A character from a story or movie, perhaps? But that's still something everyone can look at, hear, or feel. Well, some of those make-believe friends, not actors, are things only you can look at, hear, and feel. Now those are called imaginary friends, as you probably know. Imaginary friends can be anything you want them to be. An animal, a creature you made up, a monster, or just another human being. There are rare cases when special people have imaginary friends that...are not exactly in the afterlife. But, no matter what, whatever kind of friend it is, that one true friend will always be there for you.
Always.
Always.
Always...
Coming soon, I promise. :):):):):)::):))::):)):):):):):):):):):):)):):):):)::)):):):):):):)::):):)):):):):):):):):):)):):)::))::):):))::):):):):)):)::):))))))))))))))):):):):):):)):):):):):):)::)):):):):)::)):):):::):)):):):):))::):):):)):XPXPXPXPXPXPXPXPXPXPXXPXPXPXPPXXP:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D::D:D:D:D:D:D::D:DD::DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
It was the seguinte day. I got dressed nervously, had Bruno thought I was a helper? I put on a blue camisa that said "Do I Look Like I Care?" and skinny jeans. I ran outside to look for the bus, it wasn't there. I waited and waited, but it never came! I ran to school. I finally got to school no one was in the halls. I realized everyone was in class. I wrote a fake note in cursive the best I could. When I walked into class I gave the teacher the note. She read happily. Not looking angry at all, she said "Oh! I didn't give you a note. It was saying the bus driver was sick and there were no subs availble. Sorry!" I replied with " It's fine"
