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Someone was just ringing my doorbell. Three possibilities came to my mind. Either my mother (she likes to make us think that someone else is at the door), one of my other relatives (they like to drop by and drop something off as always), or that policeman that stopped by a while ago because he thought someone called 911.

Okay, okay. The third is highly unlikely, but still. That was what was on my mind at that moment. And you should see my surprise when I see it's one of those people asking for donations for a fund and such. Because usually strangers can never actually FIND the doorbell. You see, people usually just look beside the door for a doorbell. But ours is on the outside. (we have a patio-type doorway thing) The policeman had also found the doorbell.. but that's an exception. He is.. well, a policemen.

So anyway. This is the strange part. He must be the most convincing person ever since I gave in and gave a two dollar donation. But he isn't. He hardly said a word. He just shyly showed me the little organization brochure thing. I don't remember reading it. I was actually examining him, like I usually do when I'm curious. I don't know if he intentionally tried to be silent. But it worked. I was too embarassed to say, "No, I don't want to support this cause." And what did I do? I was going to dig through the lunch money drawer. But I thought that I shouldn't suffer from lack of lunch money in the future. I dug in my pocket and pulled out the crumbled dollars that I was going to use for lunch. Since I didn't eat, I smiled and handed it in for donation.

Hey, that felt great. I was starving for a great cause. No, I wasn't starving.. I just didn't have an appetite, but it's nice either way, isn't it? I felt lucky while I was walking home. It wasn't as torturous as I felt like it had been before. But before, I had to lug all these heavy things in my hands. Today, my backpack felt amazingly light, even if I had the same things in the pack. There was my usual trig book that NEVER ever leaves it. Then my purple filing folder thing, my "East of Eden" book which had been lying in there for the last month or so, my pen cases, the two notebooks (one strictly for French and one for miscellanious stuff.. mostly for math though) and blah blah. I could go on. But I still felt like I could run freely with the backpack on.

I wasn't exactly in a nice mood. That's not the way to describe. Let's see. More like an awkward mood. First of all, I predicted things correctly. I was all laughing after I had World History today. The teacher wanted us to feel what life was like during "apartheid" which really means "apartness" in South Africa. I was unfortunately one of the "Kaffirs". I guess the teachers just randomly chose who gets to be the "baas", the Africaaners to watch over us. They were the white people, and we were the black kaffir people. Yeah. For half an hour, I was a Kaffir. Had to do stupid "work" to get "paid". We were paid in M&M's. Ha ha.

Want to know the "work" we did? We had to sort through a pile of messy colored pencils and pick out ALL of the single colors. Like for me, I had to pick out all the brown colors. Great. (Shh.. the "baas" wasn't exactly looking, so I just grabbed whatever that looked like its brown.) I did this with a partner. And what were we paid? A measly 3 M&M's for the BOTH of us. (We had to get a minimum of 2 M&M's for each person in order to get the points) The another job would be to sort through a stack of posters.. putting them from big to small. Then.. EVERY kaffir had to work together without talking to put all the seats in the class in a spiral. We kind of succeeded. Yeah. But then they were all mocking us. "No, you call THAT work? Stupid kaffirs!" I was silently laughing.

Anyway. To emphasize the point, the teacher gave exquisite chocolate to the "baas" because of COURSE they're the highly priviledged minority. While they get ALL of the luxury, we, the MAJORITY get nothing. Then it was all over and we realized that she wasn't really serious about the M&M's. What did we do? We ate them. Actually, I ate them. Yum.

I was in the first history class. I told my friend that she was probably going to be on the those highly priviledged people. I was right. I think she chose by the people's character. Shamala argued a lot in her class in the past.. so maybe that's why. I don't talk. History is my silence time. Time to not talk. I don't like her (the teacher) at all anyway, and I'm afraid I'm going to get in a screaming session with her like I do with my mother. So I've learned not to get in her way for anything.

And that's not the only strange thing. Later, after school, we went to the lost and found to try to find my lost French book. She wanted to find her PE clothes. We didn't find what we want, but I saw this silver jacket and said, "Hey, this looks like YOUR jacket!" I held it up and she's like, "OMG! It IS my jacket." Umm. She said that she lost it a long time ago. Gosh, when IS my book going to turn up? (sigh) Well. Yeah.

Too many things to think about.

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