School sucks

The above is the most obvious thing a person in school could say. Very few people actually ENJOY school. Even kindergartners, when they're scribbling away on paper and having the time of their lives stop every once in a while, glance at their surroundings and piss their pants in protest. However, I am one of those very few people who prefer school.
I understand completely if you can no longer relate to anything I say. That's fine, I understand. But just hear me out. I do like going to class and I enjoy the atmosphere in school. I know from sitting around during the summer, that if you have nothing to do you will soon start to do weird shit. One time, after being home with three days straight and nothing to do, I color categorized the my DVDs on their shelf due the the colors on the spine of the box. Or, take for example, last Tuesday when I was done with classes at 12, and had nothing to do until 8. I spent forty-five minutes on Wikipedia and brushed up on some more bullshit information that will get me NO WHERE.
And I really enjoyed school this year. Why? Well, I'm done for the week Wednesday at 545, and I don't have to go back in until Monday at noon. That's a pretty enjoyable weekend. Not to mention I'm done with classes at noon on Tuesdays, and done with classes at 2 on Mondays. That's a whole bunch of free time to nap, catch up on my How I Met Your Mother, write silly stories as gifts to friends, you name it, I've done it.
For a while, I was loving life. And then the last month of school came around and BAM eight projects, mother fucker. The universe is basically punishing me for all the times I na-na-na-na-na-NA-ed, to all of my other friends who had full days or hard projects or my sister who sits on a train for four hours a day WITHOUT AN IPOD.
This will count as the second time I've been smited. I love how the word smited doesn't really exist, but "to smite" does exist. This leads me to believe that if you've been smited by a holier being, they don't want you to talk about it, and they've even gone ahead and not made a word so it'll be easier for you to keep your mouth shut.
The first time I was smited, I was sunbathing with friends. They were talking about how sometimes (and this is a gross, but true fact about girls, apparently) they would get pimples on their shoulders or a little bit along their chest. In all honesty, hand on a Bible, I don't get pimples. I have been blessed with skin that breaks out less than once a year on average (though when it does, it's a small smattering of pimples near my mouth and it looks like I have herpes. Trust me, it's not a herpes outbreak, I've asked.)
When my friends turned to me, and it was my turn to input my voice into this conversation I just shrugged and said, "I don't know about your gross asses, but I don't get pimples." They didn't believe me and said, you never get pimples? And I said no, I honestly didn't know you COULD get pimples anywhere but your face, because I had never in my life had one.
The next day I woke up and there was a pimple on my boob. Touche, God, touche.