Not Everything's About ARML (but it can be about waving your arms around)

I walked to my bus stop today (which also reminds me, I need to invest in driver's ed some day, preferably soon) and found Zephy already there, holding two plates of what appeared to be baked goods.

"Hold," she said, pointing to the plate of brownies. "One of them is for you."

"What is this for?"

"Sophomore committee. We're having a bake sale today."

So when we got off the bus later on, we headed straight for the math offices to drop off the food. Halfway down the hall, I saw Micro wandering around, looking lost.

"Hey," he said, waving to me. "We're supposed to be in the math department, right?"

"Yeah. I don't think Tybalt's here though."

I was apparently wrong. Tybalt was already inside when we reached the math offices, and he was looking at our school's performance for last year's AIME. Someone—I believe Irving, although I could be wrong, got four questions right last year, and that was the highest anyone from our school achieved. Micro and I lingered in the back of the room as Tybalt and Mr. Stone discussed something. Then, Mr. Stone grabbed some scrap paper, rulers, and pencils, and led us downstairs to finally start the test.

AIME is three hours long.

At first, Tybalt said, "Oh, the questions at the end are really hard, so we probably won't take three hours."

Well, for mathematical minds as ours that are not as well polished (compared to those who say, "I didn't get a 120+ on the AMC, I failed!" If I got a 120, I would be really surprised at myself), we took three hours to do however many questions we each managed to tackle. In Micro's words, "Not a lot." But I'm apparently not allowed to talk about the difficulty of the test until an undetermined time later (or maybe it's only on the forum, I'm not sure), so I won't say how well I did. I'll just say that all of us took the entire three hour period we had, and that, on a Wednesday morning, was very draining.

We couldn't even talk to other people, unlike Moody's (although Moody's was way longer so I suppose it evens out), so I spent half the time listening to one person or another sniffle.

Anyway, Tybalt left first, then Micro, and I left last as I scrambled to bubble in random answers on my answer sheet so it looks like I did something (and increase the chance of me getting the right answer from 0% to 0.1%).

At lunch, I went to find Tybalt to compare answers. Sonny and Dino, who also sat at the table (so did Bryant, but he was on the other end), clamored to see the test.

"Is this ARML?" Sonny asked. I really have no idea why he thinks everything math and competition-related is automatically ARML. Probably because he only knows ARML through Dino.

"No," Dino said. "AIME." (Also, AIME sounds very confusing when you're saying it to someone who doesn't know what it is, because it sounds like Amy. Reese, among others, have asked, "Who is this Amy person?")

"Oh," Sonny said. Tybalt snatched the test back and proceeded to make myself less confident in my answers. I suppose the reverse could also hold true.

On my way back to my table, I saw Micro (who also has lunch, how surprising). I proceeded to plop down next to him and compare answers with him. Let's just say that we (all three of us) haven't reached a consensus yet.

But I mean, it's us. Paperclip. We haven't yet defeated a Massachusetts school in NEML. What's the chances of all three of us doing superbly well and all making it to USAMO?

(Very little, although Micro may have a chance with USAJMO—depending on his guessing skills.)

Later on, in physics, Mr. Stencil finally came through with his promise of pizza for us because our class scored the highest out of all of Mr. Stencil's classes on this "physics concepts" test we took. However, because it was Passover, half the class couldn't eat it. Tamir, obviously not restrained by such rules, loomed over the boxes of pizza as the class debated whether those who could not eat the pizza should get bonus points instead.

In the end, almost everyone gave in to the temptation (Camel after much consideration and only after seeing the mushroom pizza). Jeremy and Scott left the room to control their urges, but when they came back, Scott said, "You can still smell the pizza." It was too late anyway. All three boxes had been scarfed down already.

After physics (which was after school), I went to get my coat. I saw Yuma on my way there, and so I told him to save a seat for me on the bus. When I got on the bus, it was half-empty (probably because of spring sports), but I sat next to Yuma anyway. He sat next to the window, so when I turned to look at him, I saw Micro on the bus next to ours.

"Hey look," I said. "It's Micro!"

Yuma turned to see. "Oh yeah."

I started waving frantically at Micro, trying to get his attention. He didn't notice me, but Sonny, who sat behind Micro on the bus, saw me and waved back.

Not exactly what I was looking for. I tried to wave in a general front-ward direction, in an attempt to tell Sonny to get Micro's attention. Sonny only stared at me and made weird arm gestures as well. Again. Not exactly what I was looking for.

And to end this (instead of blogging about Easter Island, which I will get to, shortly), I'll post something Chile-related. Make of it what you will.

Ginny

okay

and

tell Owen that his llama is on the way

(hopefully)

17:32Dino

his llama?

17:32Ginny

(if it doesn't get quarantined)

17:32Dino

which Owen?

17:33Ginny

your brother

who else?

17:33Dino

yd u get him a llama?

17:34Ginny

we were going to get a llama for ourselves anyway

Gretchen and I

and he seemed interested

17:34Dino

a stuffed llama?

17:34Ginny

no, one from chile

17:34Dino

a real llama

17:34Ginny

well

real enough

17:35Dino

real enough?

17:35Ginny

sort of like "the things they carried"

17:35Dino

kewl

17:35Ginny

it's summery in chile right now though

so I'm not sure how it'll fare

on the plane

and we also need to find a large enough crate

but those are minor issues

17:36Dino

ur not ACTUALLY getting a llama

17:36Ginny

like I said

"the things they carried"

style

17:37Dino

never read that

17:37Ginny

it's a nice book

and I think it's referenced in the first page

17:39Ginny

also

he's not allergic to llama hair

is he?

17:39Dino

no....

17:40Ginny

okay

good

allergies would pose huge problems

It Takes Two To Love

Today, for English, we had to bring in an image of what we thought represented success. I (partly inspired by Tea), chose a scene from xkcd, and said that it represented how success meant something different for everyone, regardless of what the "norm" dictated.


Of course, I said it in a way more choppier way, probably because when I usually write things, I jump from one thing to another, so I do not have a clear, cohesive string of consciousness. I wonder what it would be like if I could put my thoughts into a pensieve? I don't know if anyone would be able to successfully navigate my memories.


Anyway, onto more choppy thoughts, I had gym during the lunch period today. Since everyone gets out early for gym (except those stuck in health or swimming or Argon, who changes really fast when he's going to gym but really slow when he's coming out), Nyx and Dora and Tierra were still in the cafeteria by the time I got there.


The three of them giggled when I arrived. When prodded why, Dora said, "Oh, we were just talking about you."
"About what?"


"Prom," Nyx said. "And who you're going to go with."


"It'll be really sweet if you go with Vincent."


I was about to say something along the lines of, no, I'm not so sure about that idea, when Vincent came by and said hi.


"Oooh," Tierra—or someone else, I couldn't quite tell—said. "Vincent, ask Ginny to go with you to prom!"


That was rather, uh, straightforward and to the point. Vincent looked really confused. I didn't blame him.


"Come on, ask her!"


After much persuasion, Vincent finally conceded. "Okay. Will you go to prom with me?"


There was a small cheer at the table, punctuated with Vincent's remark, "So, what is this prom thing?"


That could be quite an issue. The topic slowly dissolved as Vincent had to go and the discussion diverged towards who Dora should go with—with a random remark of "Ginny shouldn't go with Dino" inserted somewhere and Tierra's question of "I don't know this Dino guy. I just know that everyone doesn't like him (this statement is obviously not true)." After the three of them left, Tea came, and we went on discussing this prom "problem" while lamenting (this is one of my favorite words of the week, it seems) that no one will actually ask us out. (Vincent doesn't count. He was confuzzled into agreeing, and I still don't know if he comprehends the extent of what prom means, although I do know that he would hate it.)


So here, as a cheer-us-upper (since the laws of the Internet and Nephria decree that anything is possible), I will confidently proclaim that there will be tons of guys who will ask both of us (and everyone else who belongs to our possibly date-less group) to prom, and they will have to wait in line and hand us résumés and have us closely inspect their possible behavior before we decide who we want to go with. Or, to make life easier, the guys that we want to ask us will do so, and we'll skip the whole "application" part of the process and choose directly.


Anything's possible.


(Except "forcing Dino into the corner on the third floor where there are no tables and making him ask me to prom with various suspicious methods" is not an option, ever. Even in Nephria.)


However, since I accidentally spilled my bag at the end of lunch, I was late to calc. Mrs. James was about to ask me a question (that I most likely would not have known the answer to because I haven't reviewed any of the material yet in lieu of math packets and general procrastination), but Jay saved me by blurting out the answer per usual. As I approached my seat, Dino said, "I don't trust Ginny," and waved to me. Calc itself went by pretty fast, with relatively few "butt-jokes" compared to yesterday. This unit is going pretty well so far, I must say. I'm surprised. (Of course, all of these formulas could pose a huge problem, as I can't remember formulas. It's sad.)


After class, I asked Dino if he was going to take AIME tomorrow. He said no, and Sonny mistook it for ARML.


"Wait," he said. "So you were the only one representing our school and you didn't make it?"


"No," Dino said. "It's something else. And no, I'm not taking it. Don't worry about it."


The last remark comes from me asking if he had gotten his test rescored. I have no idea why he thinks I'm "worrying" about it, but it has been previously proven that he is strange, and therefore I am allowed to be puzzled.


By this time, we had reached my stat classroom, so we said goodbye and he strutted on in his strange hands-holding-the-backpack-straps pose towards what I predicted (correctly) was gym. After stat (because stat was kind of boring and we just got our tests back and fiddled with the calculator), I stood outside the math team classroom as I always do, because it's across the hall from my stat classroom and I usually just wait for the people in the classroom to leave and then go in.


This time, Dino was already there by the time everyone inside had left. He went in first, and took a seat and sat down and did nothing. Really. Nothing at all. After I put my bag down, went outside, waved to Gretchie, and turned back, I saw him barely out the door, looking at us (or Irving down the hall, but I'd like to say that it was us) before scooting back into the classroom.


But that's enough musing for the day. I have to do all the other stuff I have to do (like practice mock questions for AIME and generally doing homework, perhaps), so go over to Gretchie's post for our next several days in Chile! (I am still working on shipping a llama back home. It will happen. One day.)

More Adventures (in Chile) + Panic IRL

This was long overdue but necessary in the grand scheme of life this trip. Therefore, it is here, and I will be off to do my homework ("Gasp!") because I just checked the schedule and the CALC FINAL (-cue screaming sound effects-) is in two weeks. (±Math run-offs, AIME's, and an assortment of other things.) Therefore, I probably won't be getting any homework done, and so I might as well post this now so I don't get too distracted.


ALSO YOU GUYS: Ignore tenses in this thing. I don't know what land I'm in, but this land's Laws decree that normal tense situations do not apply here. That, or I'm writing about past/present/future at the same time, so I'm really, really confused.


Today is the first day of our (Gretchie has joined my trip) adventures! After an entire day of packing, we have decided that we have EVERYTHING we could possibly need that we can think of right now. So, relying upon our trusty RANDOM.ORG random coordinates generator, we have decided to travel to the most coveted—

Chile!

But first things first. We need a picture of Gretchie since she's coming along as well.

After quite some time of fiddling with paint the camera once again, here is a picture of Gretch (to the right). (A/N: This picture did not exist prior to this post; however, due to unfortunate media leakage, this picture is now old news and therefore lacks the "wow" factor it was supposed to bring.)

Great, now we can begin!

So, since we're in the middle of nowhere not anywhere near Chile, I ordered tickets from TravelWithUsJerk.com (see bottom of page). They came in the mail yesterday, while we were still packing, and boy, were we excited! I literally jumped up and down until I got tired and had to stop.


Gretchie added a water filter, cards, a Spanish-English dictionary, a Swiss army knife, eating utensils, and walkie-talkies to her bag. I've also last-minutely added a small, hand-held mirror, just in case we're plane-wrecked in the middle of the ocean and we need to flash Morse code signals at planes to make them notice us.


Anyway, at 9:30AM, we decided that we had everything. With a few final checks (making sure we locked the doors and windows and said a teary farewell to our friends for the hour day week possibly eternity), we were ready to depart!

The closest international airport is JFK, and it's a very, very far distance away (anything that can't be tackled reasonably by foot is a very far distance for me), so naturally we rode a taxi! I love yellow taxis—they make me feel happy on the inside, especially if it's raining outside and the water puddles make the road all reflection-y when the yellow taxis drive by.


The ride to the airport was pretty fun, and when we got to the airport, we still had plenty of time left (the plane was scheduled to leave at 2PM—haha, 2PM—and we arrived at 11AM). So we did what normal people do when they're about to embark on a round-the-world voyage.


We jumped up and down (figuratively for Gretchie and literally for me) and ooh'd and ahh'd over everything we saw. Well, of course, we had to get our boarding pass first, go through numerous layers of customs (tricky—I never did like customs), and find our waiting room. Once we got there, however, the realization that the trip was finally happening made both of us giddy. I pulled out my laptop and we went over the itinerary for the next few days, which I will outline below in order to pacify you because the actual trip writing may take a long time to solidify give you an idea of what is to come:

• Day 1: Arrive at Santiago (the capital of Chile and where the major International airport is located), look around, check into a hotel, scream, "WE'RE IN CHILE!!!" (Preferably in Spanish, although that is a feat only Gretchie can accomplish right now.)
• Day 2: Continue tour of Santiago (I've heard that they have amazing food there), in the afternoon take a plane to Atacama Desert and stay the night there.
• Day 3-6: Explore Atacama. Highlights: museums, geysers, beautiful views, adobe hotels! On the last day, take a plane to Easter Island.
• Day 7-11: Explore Easter Island. (More) highlights: Moai (those stone faces Easter Island is famous for), volcanic craters, scuba diving/snorkeling. On the last day/afternoon, take a plane back to Santiago.
• Day 12: Rest a bit, check any really good tourist attractions (or restaurants), then depart for our next destination (undecided as of yet).

So, there you have it! Almost two weeks of fun in Chile, or at least we hope it will be. Alas, time flies when you're rechecking over itineraries (or maybe just when you're having fun in general), and by the time we finished going over the details and planning what we will do after we get off the plane, it was about time to board our plane.


Here's a picture of the plane we're going to board:


Isn't it pretty?


This is a plane owned by Lan Chile Airlines, the major airline company in Chile. It's also the only plane that travels to Easter Island, which is where we're going to go later. (How this hasn't directly attributed to grossly unreasonable fares, I have no idea, but I assume I'll know next year with a year of econ under my figurative belt.)

I found some random picture online took a picture of the landscape as we were about to depart. Can you believe it? We're going to leave the country soon, and then our continent!


South America, here we come!


Of course, for the entire flight, Gretchie and I watched this strange documentary about glaciers in Greenland. I don't really remember much of it, because I was more focused on the beautiful background music they played while showing the films of the glaciers.


It takes around nine hours to go by plane from NYC to Chile, and so by the time we arrived, it was a staggeringly late 11PM by our watches. However, by the Chilean time zone (UTC-04), it was already midnight. Gretchie and I were both pretty tired by now, so our first priority was to find a hotel and rest for the night.


(I think we'll have to push back our schedule for a day, because rest is very, very important and visiting Santiago is also very, very important, and we have plenty of time to spare anyway.)


Gretchie took some pictures of the night-time Santiago as we rode in our taxi and headed toward our hotel. Here's one that we both really liked:

After much sight-seeing through the streets of Santiago, we arrived at our hotel which is not named because I have been too lazy to actually find one, duh. Tired as we were, we did not forget to take a picture of our room. So, here it is, and we'll update infinitely later tomorrow on how our first actual day in Santiago goes!

OOH (see earlier posts): 


We (both of Mr. Coffee's AP chem classes) got back our acid/base equilibrium test today—or, at least, the multiple choice part. The "bell curve" for test score distributions were one 95+ (Bryant, most likely, as this spot is usually reserved for him), a small cluster of 90+, a huge cluster of 80+ (including 85+), pitifully few in the 70+ (including 75+), and another huge cluster at or below 65+.


On the bright side, this unit is so dubbed, "If you can survive this, you can do anything." So, seeing as I survived the test (with lots of freebie points from Mr. Coffee because he messed up on several questions to help), I must be able to do anything!


(Well, anything except my research paper, it seems, because I almost failed that, and the only reason I didn't fail was because I had clear sentences and good language usage, so the next two weeks will be frantic as I basically rewrite my entire paper.)


I am also awaiting my free response for this unit, which I have my doubts in because I didn't (unlike Bryant and Nyx and basically everyone else who was sane) do any of the AP problems on College Board. Well. On the even brighter side, the next unit is relatively easier (although it also seems that easier units are the ones I perform worse on in tests), so everything should be fine until I start panicking about the calc finals.


Which, if the introduction paragraph haven't warned you yet, CALC FINALS! MAY 5TH IS APPROACHING! APRIL 12TH IS APPROACHING! Ahem. Right.


Our class has yet to panic, it appears, because we spent today discussing what the "ç" was called ("A cedilla." "Oh, Ginny, can you teach me French?") and whether the cardioid looked like a "butt." Dino also spent considerable time persuading Mrs. James to hit the "print" button on the Smartboard so he could go grab a copy of the calc notes he forgot to print out ("We were supposed to bring 10.6? No one told me that!") while Jay used "going to the bathroom" as an excuse to print out a copy of the notes himself but forgot to print out an extra set for Dino.


Not that I did anything in any of my other classes. We had a sub for physics, and Camel, lamenting that the $10 he spent on buying Monty Python was wasted because he couldn't open the file, used his laptop to go on Youtube to watch more Monty Python. I took this time to use an extremely long yard-stick (meter-stick, actually, and they can't be extremely long because they're supposed to be one meter long, but that's not the point) to draw scatterplots for stat. Nevertheless, it wasn't necessary, it seemed, because Mrs. MacDonald wasn't here either, and we had another sub (who suspiciously looked like the sub we had for physics, but I'm bad at recognizing people so I'm not sure). Matt and I worked on another sudoku puzzle, and then later on we (mostly me) worked on some math packets. I can say now with 70% confidence that I can tackle most of the round 1 questions, half of the round 2 questions, and maybe half of the round 3 questions.


Oh, I'm doomed.


But wait, there's more! If you call NOW AIME is coming up, Wednesday. I still have to ask Tybalt what room I'm supposed to be in, and I still have to go over at least some of the problems to see what they're like and what my probability of failing is (very high, although I shall try a Nate Silver-esque approach and conduct some research based on past problem performance).


So. Anyway. Homework.


DISCLAIMER (read the small font): Any hyper-link not "linked" is not true and is merely a figment of the authoress' imagination. There may, however, be a slight chance that such a link exists in real life and therefore accessible. We [Gretchie and I] do not wish to infringe upon the rights of those organizations, and we are not associated with them in any way. We are not liable for any loss, whether financial, physical, laptopial, or any thing else, incurred due to the searching and/or subsequent visiting of said websites. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please contact us at ginnyofnephria(at)gmail.com or comment below. Please note that we reserve the right to ignore you (within reasonable boundaries of law) or delete your comment as we see fit. For further questions, read the sentence before the sentence before this sentence.

Some Other Stuff I Found In My Drafts

By "drafts," I mean my Gmail draft folder. I used to type all of my stories there, before I hooked up to Google Docs. That was quite a transformation.

Anyway, I figured I might as well share these, since I'll be focusing on writing about the trip to Chile and may be distracted for a very long time.

Title: Tell Me What I Don't Know

Let it go.

If it was meant to be yours, then it will come back.

If it doesn't, then it wasn't meant to be.

I've gone on and on and on,

beyond everything I've known,

went past the borders

of everything I'd seen,

and now I'm on the edge

of the world I've grown to know,

and I'm looking down,

looking down.

I'm holding onto my dreams,

grasping onto them,

just like you told me so;

I'm afraid that once I let go,

they'll disappear on me,

cause they're not really mine.

I'm holding onto my identity,

refusing to release my hands,

and set it free,

I know that if I give in,

I'll never see it again,

cause this isn't the real me.

(this isn't the real me)

I'm looking down,

there's something holding me back,

there's a reason why

I'm not jumping yet.

I want to let it go,

to have nothing to worry anymore,

to free-fall,

to never have to think again.
But there's something holding me back,

something rooting me to the ground,

something I haven't done yet,

something I'm afraid to lose.

I want to escape this world,

run away as far as I can,

but what's on the other side?

What will I see?

I want to run away, run away,

jump off,

and fly high

away from everything I've known,

everything I've kept dear,

no more strings to hold me back,

no more memories of the past,

just me and myself,

alone where I want to be.

I want to love him.

I know he doesn't love me. It's in the way he talks, the nonchalant way he looks at me, the way we don't talk without someone else there, or something else there. The way I can't say hi to him in the hall, and he doesn't care. The way he comments about me, always something I can't do or I'm not, something I've managed to do wrong. The way he doesn't notice, how he didn't know my name even, for so long.

But I want to believe. I want to believe that, when he talks about the pencil I've lost and found again, that he's remembered and that he cares. I want to believe that he actually makes eye contact when we pass by each other. I want to believe that he's only mean because he's trying to get my attention.

I know there are other explanations for those small things that makes me want to think that he loves me. There always are. And there's no way he could ever possibly love me.

I know I can't love him, either. Not because he doesn't love me, although that might help my argument. It's because I'm in love with someone else. I'm in love with something else.

I never did get over Dray. What he represented, really. I had always been, and still am, in love with the notion of love itself. So when my heart beats faster when I see him, or when I ogle at his hair and his composure, it's because I want to be in love so badly, because I want to love, because I'm afraid of not loving, of losing this one thing that makes my dreams the fantastical worlds they are and gives me hope to live on every day.

I'm afraid. So I'm grasping at the little ends that could possibly sustain me.

Even if he did love me, and I know he doesn't, it wouldn't be fair to love him.

And I can't cave in, so I'm using other people to fill in the gap, and it's unfair to everyone. But I don't know what else to do. I'm glad I've never seen him smile, because if I do, I might just lose control over my emotions.

I hate these windows.

I hate their taunting ways, as if they're beckoning out to me, calling for my attention. It's as if they're screaming, "Come, come out, can't you see what we're offering beyond? The freedom, the exhilaration, everything. If you can make it through, then all of this is yours." I stare out them, and I want to break through, so desperately. I want to jump out and free fall and not have to be in control anymore. I want to let go and watch everything spiral out of my hands, and know that, for once, it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter who I am or what I can do, because everything is out of my control now, and I can finally, finally relax for once.

Of course, they won't let me. The windows. They tease me with freedom so close within grasp, but when I come up close to them, and put my palms against their cold glass panes, that freedom escapes my reach. I can't really break free; the windows are made to withstand my whims, and the small opening that they do offer provides only a coward's way out. They're holding me back, these windows, holding me back so that even though I'm so close to going down, I can't, not yet.

I hate these windows because they remind me of myself.

They remind me of the time when I would stare longingly at the fourteenth floor of my friend's apartment, and I would think to myself, "It's not that hard. Just wait until the school organizes that annual chocolate fund-raiser again, and then take a box of chocolate and a knife with you to the top floor. There's bound to be someone who wants to buy chocolate, and when they open the door for you, that's your chance. Force yourself inside. Run to the balcony, unlocking any doors with the knife if necessary, and climb onto the railing.

"Then jump. Jump as far as you can, away from the cement balcony, away from the grating bricks, away from the screaming people. Just as far as you can, head first, pummeling down with the wind in your ears, until everything turns black."

But the school fund-raiser came and went, and I'm still here, breathing, surviving, even if I hadn't been alive for so long. At the last moment, when everything was set out perfectly and all that was left was to sum up my courage, I couldn't do it. Something was holding me back, rooting me to the ground despite my pleas to fly.

I hate these windows because they remind me of my hesitance.

They remind me of the time when I would sit around a table, and everyone around me would talk and I would listen. They talked about anything and everything. They talked about misadventures in second grade, they talked about sleepovers and parties, they talked about teachers they shared and camps they went to together and trips they went on.

I would listen, as always. I wouldn't say anything, but I would listen. I would listen and take in every word, and imagine myself in all of those wonderful places, sharing all of those mystical memories. I would listen silently, so silently, in fact, that when the people around me get up and leave, they never notice my eavesdropping. They never realize that I was sharing a part in their world, a shadowy part without real substance, but a part nonetheless.

I want to be a part of someone else's memory, not just my own. But hearing of other people's memories, memories I would never have, is the next best thing, and I can't take anything for granted.

I hate these windows because they remind me of my transparency.

I hate these windows because they remind me of what I am about to do.

I wanted to take you to the window where I took off, but I think that wouldn't be possible. The police would be here, and they would cordon off that place and refuse to let anyone in. That's why I chose my math classroom. Of course, it's partially because the math classrooms are on the top floor, but it's also because I know they will not let anyone here for a long time. Math is the only class I share with you, and I thought you might want to escape my presence for a while, if only to clear your head and forget my pain better.

So, instead of that window, I chose this one instead. It's similar in layout, but you must have noticed that by now. I asked you to come here so I can show you how I felt when I put my hands on the glass and felt the warmth radiate away from my fingertips. It's a despairing action, knowing the last bit of familiarity and comfort is leaving you, forever, but it's also thrilling to know that you're going to begin an entire new journey.

This is the journey I have been waiting for, for my entire life, and I finally have the chance to realize it. No more conforming to other people's ideals. No more blending into the background. No more hoping only to lose hope again.

No more silence. No more ignorance. No more fear.

I still hate these windows, but now I'm ready shatter them.

I was such a moody girl when I wrote that one. I do like the math windows though. They're so big, and they're a wonderful excuse for Trevor to distract the class with. (One time, he opened the windows really, really wide, and he couldn't close them again. Mrs. MacDonald later went over and closed it rather easily.)

Title: If It's Really The End

The parchment is bound in leather;

it's supposed to be that way.

Black ink with hints of red and blue,

because it's supposed to be that way.

That's the way it had always been,

for every aspiring hero and dreaming heroine,

the way it had been for thousands of years,

eons upon eons,

until we lost meaning of the rituals,

and kept only the motions.

So the parchment is bound in leather,

written upon with black ink,

and thus we begin a story,

that has been told before.

Close your eyes, pretend for a moment;

see the seas where the sirens are?

Cover your ears and find their songs,

they sing only when you cannot hear.

The boats are a-rocking,

the bows are a-tipping,

place your feet on the deck,

let us begin:

a journey begun is a journey half-done.

The sea-winds are a-blowing,

through our hair and past our ears,

drowning out the sirens' songs,

bringing out the salt-fresh air,

harsh against our faces,

just so, just so,

just enough to remind us of our fears,

but not enough to guide us to our pasts.

Night comes, as nights are,

stealthy, silent, shivering,

with a hint of moonlight to guide us on,

glimmering as the sea may seem.

It is but a guise,

do not let your guard down,

for what poses as tranquility is only a mask.

Underneath the blanket of bedtime blue,

our enemies creep through unseen cracks;

they wait, they stay,

they grasp at the ends of your nightmares.

So stay awake and keep on guard,

only daybreak can chase away their courage,

and that is still far away, too far away.

Fish-belly white, that's what they say,

when the larks are singing their paean for the day.

It's fish-belly white now,

yet the larks are not singing;

do they know that we are here?

The shouts are already beginning,

the chaos already pulsating,

the horizon filled with an eerie silver,

glinting under the light.

Fish-belly white, that's what they say,

when the larks wake up from their dreams.

It's fish-belly white now,

yet the larks are not singing;

they will not sing anymore.

The trumpets are sounding,

golden against the sun,

the velvet red draping over what's left.

The crowds are gathering,

chanting with fervor,

as our boat glides back silent and deft.

Take off your helmet,

hear their praise;

the sirens are singing,

the sirens the crowds,

as they taunt with their sea-salt voice,

drowned out by the sea-winds:

fresh enough to clear our heads,

but not enough to turn us back.

The parchment is bound in leather,

written upon with black-red ink.

Words do not lie,

at least not to our hearts,

and so we call them stories:

for they cannot be real in this world,

not at once, not at all;

mere figments of our imagination,

repetitive motions without meaning,

just the way it has always been,

for those aspiring heroes and dreaming heroines,

for those hoping and those acting.

For the story had been told before,

so it cannot be real anymore.

One of the few times I wrote poetry. I am horrible at rhyming, so I go for word patterns and symbols and references instead. Nonetheless, I believe I write better stories than I do poetry, mostly because I have never even figured out what goes into poems besides emotions.

Title: SOS-Cheese Promo Article

If you're like me, you tend to camp out beside your computer. A lot.

In this technology-wired era, who hasn't used--or at least heard of--a computer? These days, the Internet is the norm, and anything not "connected" is outdated. But even the Information Age can't escape capitalism's opportunistic eyes, and despite the great gush of free materials becoming available every day, some things never change. 

Like the competition between mega-companies for our money. 

If you're like me, you must have heard of a few big names. Google, Microsoft, and Apple, just to name a few. The new gadgets they're pushing out might seem confusing to some--come on, what is the point of having an App on your iPhone that simply makes the screen dark enough you can see your own reflection?--but the competition is fierce. 

And boring. 

So what if Firefox's new browser offers privacy options so your pesky little sister can't see what sites you go on (especially not the porn sites, I hope)? Google's Chrome minimizes the amount of pixels--virtual blocks of imagination and binary--so your viewing space can be expanded by a line of text. And Internet Explorer just fixed one of its gazillion glitches (we're jumping for joy at this, seriously). 

So what if the new iPhone 3GS just came out, and now the battery life's been extended to half a day, instead of three hours (probably what the 3 in 3G stood for in the first place)? The Palm Pre and RIM's Blackberry are chasing its tail, despite their shares on Wall Street lagging behind. 

So what if Microsoft came out with Bing, so now, instead of saying "let's Google that", we can (to the dreams of the team at Microsoft) say "let's Bing that." Facebook is hiding its collection of information away from all the search engines, so you could never find what Aunt Jemma's secret ingredient for her chicken pot pies was anyway. (Although it probably isn't a secret anymore, if she wrote on her wall "CH1CK3N P0T P13=US3 Ch1CK3N!!!11!") 

All of that is BORING. Come on. You and I both camp out at our computers. We've seen everything new technology has to offer. "Reload" and "refresh" really aren't that different. Neither is having a blue cover instead of a black cover. Unless your entire room was in various shades of blue, I doubt it matters that much. (But if it was, then that's really cool and I applaud your creativity.) 

But something's here to change all of that. 

The limited edition of SOS-cheese. 

You're probably sitting in front of your computer, staring at the monitor, and going, "what?" 

SOS--short for Saviour Operating System--isn't some "next-generation" OS promoted by big-shot companies and featuring features that every other OS has (or has something similar) already. It's designed by a group of dedicated people who fused their passion into what they see every day. 

By now, you probably have a general idea of what I'm talking about. Yes, this new OS is entirely cheese-themed. Think about that! Instead of something boring like "Calculator" that just reminds you of your own discarded calculator somewhere in your attic, you have a nifty program called "Cheddar". Input an equation into Cheddar, and you'll get the solution, an option to explain how the solution was derived, and exporting options. All in a wonderfully delicious skin. Need to remove that red spot from Granma Sally's eyes so she doesn't look like an albino? Blue Cheese is there to help with expert tools to guide even the most novice photo editor into magazine-style success. Can't figure out where the nearest supermarket is so you can buy groceries (or more cheese)? Go on Selva and search away. 

Remember all of those complicated things you wanted to do, and all of those programs you bought or downloaded just so you could do them? Well, some memories are best kept in the past, and this is definitely one of them. With SOS, software of every type and category are already built into the OS, with no extra charge or hidden fees. And if there really is something you couldn't find, there's always the SOSForum where you can search for other users' input or come up with your own add-on. There are a gazillion ways to customize your experience, without that many glitches. 

If that still doesn't satisfy your palette, there's always the competitive pricing (and in this recession, that's what everyone really cares about anyway), amazing personalized customer service, and nifty surprises throughout the system that makes your day-to-day computer stalking so much nicer.

Besides, what better way for your stomach to protest when you've been sitting in front of the screen too long than to stare at gourmet cheese?

Ooh, a fun piece I wrote while I was bored during the summer. I've been trying to get Stella to create SOS-Cheese ever since I wrote this article. I haven't succeeded yet.

Title: Imaginary Festival Promo Article

Something's in the air--and it's not just the fact that all the mint my mom plants mysteriously disappears (along with tell-tale dirt next to the pot).

Something much bigger is going on.

It's time for the (now) annual Imaginary Festival. And if you don't know what that means yet, don't fret. There's plenty of time to learn. After all, one of the themes of this year's Imaginary Festival is Procrastination. Good news for those people out there who put off their work until the last minute: you can attend this year's Festival without worrying about not finishing your work (not that you do, do you?). You can work on the putting-off bit at the Festival and come home all prepared to actually start.

And if you're not ready, there's always a chance to bring home some souvenirs.

This year's Festival also offers plenty of other things to do. Come early in the mornings (and by early, we mean some time before 2pm, please--it's not fun to be too late) and see if you're one of the lucky winners to the daily Early Bird Giveaways. Prizes include secret codes to pretty blue colors, pop-up chibi pictures, and the extremely coveted chance to spend a day with the imaginary friend of founder Emma Jinery. According to inside sources, pixelated cookies are also offered, but only on select days. Hmm, I wonder on which days? (Here's a hint: another of this year's Festival theme is 25.)

If you're not an early riser, there are activities you can indulge in as well. If you're an adventure-seeker, you can participate in the Imagining-There's-A-Parachute-Where-There-Is-None-When-You're-Jumping-Off-A-Plane. You get to imagine your own color and brand of parachute! Imagine that (no pun intended). Unfortunately, the part where you're jumping off the plane isn't imaginary so far, so if you have a weak stomach (or if you don't have an exoskeleton, real or imaginary) I would not recommend this game.

If you would rather participate in the more creative (and much more imaginary) task of telling stories, then you absolutely have to come to the Horror Hedge. Located in a dark, suspicious part of the Festival grounds, right next to the famous hedgeworks, the Horror Hedge is where the truly creative congregate every year (well, starting now, that is) to add their part to the scariest, most bone-chilling horror story of the year. Beware: not all of the identities of the guests to this event are verified, so the Festival makes no guarantee that any details are completely imaginary. They just shun upon using real tidbits.

If you're just looking for a traditional Festival where you and your family and friends can have fun, then there is no better place to look than the Imaginary Festival. Not only do they offer delicious made-up sugar cones (I couldn't stop myself from having two, and had to procrastinate about exercising afterward to shed those imaginary calories), cinnamon-sprinkled air, and delicacies such as the invisible punch, this year, Cam Pletephic is bringing his world-famous Fairies-on-a-Rod. Don't worry, no real fairies were used in making these treats, but they're delectable just the same. (That is, if you can figure out where you should bite, as you can't see them either.)

Other special events at the Festival include Imagining-Your-Dream-Home, Paint-Your-Nails-Groange, nightly dances, and so much more!

If you have not already planned a trip ages ago to some boring place like Meidop Island or Fyk Shunol City, come by the Imaginary Festival before the Procrastination Period is over and this year's Festival officially ends!


Events free-lance writer Ginny

(DISCLAIMER: Neither this publication nor the writer of this article is affiliated with any of the events and activities aforementioned and will not be responsible for any loss, damage or otherwise incident resulting from reading and/or acting upon this article. Copyrights reserved for Ginny. No part of this publication may be reproduced without permission from the author and the original distributor. Please contact your distributor for questions or comments.)

My first fictional promo piece. You can obviously tell that this one came first because it outright mentions being imaginary. Oh, and, try saying some of the proper nouns out loud.