Because I can and will and you can't stop me meh

I go to a charter school, where rules are lax and teachers go by their first names. This makes for a more friendly environment (which in my partial mindset I honestly tried to spell "enviurnmint") and makes it easier to be friends with your teachers. Like my soon-to-be history teacher, who officially qualifies as my bro. And my screenwriting teacher, who offers knucks to everybody. And also, my English teacher, to whom I have confided my darkest secret; this blog.

My English teacher also happens to know how dedicated I am to writing and literature in general, because it's obvious that I am one of those anomalies of people who actually cares. It's probably because I have on opinion on why I don't like Walt Whitman. It also could be that I asked when we would start writing essays again. Or hey, maybe it's the fact that I keep this blog. Which he very well may be reading right. now.

Today, in class, whilst being side-tracked, I was writing a song for my side-project and side-listening to my English teacher make an offhand comment about an Emperor. A naked Emperor. It's the story of the Emperor's new clothes (which aren't really clothes at all), and after a confused silence, one of the students asked what the hell he was talking about.

He went on a tangent, stopped, then said to the entire class, "I'm trying to give Brighton absolutely nothing to write about."

And look, I wrote about it anyway! I'm such a rebel!