Never Again 17

Within the past couple of hours, I was wondering what sort of felony I should commit before tomorrow. Preferably one that isn't too egregious nor too juvenile. It was fun toying with the idea for some moments and letting my imagination go wild.

Anyways, maybe it's due to the sunny weather, but today has been quite an ephemeral day for me. Hearing sounds from the kitchen as early as 3:30, I jumped out of bed at 5:30 to make citrus (buddha's hand), coconut scones adapted from this recipe, substituting the butter with coconut oil and the sugar + sour milk with 1/2 cup buddha's hand syrup, freshly-squeezed lemon juice, 1/4 cup soymilk, and some tablespoons of xylitol. I also added some wheat bran, flax seed, and butter-vanilla emulsion. I enjoy my mom's kaw-aye khao swè, which literally translates to "glue water noodle." Despite its unappetizing translation, it actually is a noodle dish in chicken stock, spices, and thickened with corn starch. Topped with cabbage, onions, beansprouts, and chives alongside homemade whole-wheat noodles, it makes one heck of a breakfast.

Citrus-coconut scones dusted with powdered xylitol, baked on a pizza stone at 350  for 20 minutes.

I arrived at school to yearbook class first period, and the yearbook representative brought donuts to celebrate our completion of the book, slated to arrive around May 10th. Sharing my scones with my classmates, the whole morning went by like a breeze. During lunch, my friends and I basked in the sun, talking about roly-polys and playing word games. After sharing more than enough laughs to power the whole city of Monstropolis, I went to my english class, taught by my favorite and most respectable teacher, learning many tips for the upcoming exams and be elucidated about the meaning of the ubiquitously enigmatic poem, Evening Hawk. (I've never been apt at tying in poetry to greater themes of humanity. And I also learned that the only difference between poetry and prose is that poetry has rhyme and meter.)

Regrettably, I had to leave the class early to catch the unexpected charter bus for our badminton match, which we, the school, won with a score that is too close for comfort. The charter bus was interesting--containing windows, each tinted different colors, kind of like Instagram filters. The gym was tremendously stuffy, and everyone was "profusely sweating." I love the sunny weather, and the mirth it creates in everyone. All in all, it's been a fun last day of being 17, and I couldn't ask for a better one. Today was the paragon of the last day of being a teenager.

Charter bus view on the ride home...back to my car at school, that is.