Christine O'Donnell, Republican (and Tea Party) candidate for the 2010 Delaware Senate special election, has a series of political ads where she says, "I'm not *insert whatever it is she says she's not*, I'm you."
Well, you know what, dad? I'm not Christine O'Donnell. I'm not you.
This comes after my dad's latest rejection of my common app essay. Basically, his logic is, "If I don't like this essay, then you're not submitting it." Which is fine, I suppose, since he's paying for the application fee, but it's not fine when his idea of an acceptable essay happens to only look like one thing.
He even said, "It's all right if you copy my words, as long as they're good."
No, dad, it's not all right. I'm not translating your work. I'm writing my damn college essay, and I'd like it to be about me, thank you very much. Which means, if you don't quite grasp it yet, that I'd like to use my own words to write about things that I feel are important to me.
I think he's more worked up about this whole process than I am. Like in Death of a Salesman. Pushing all of his dreams and hopes onto me, except I'm a loser-ish kind of daughter, and not the perfect overachiever he'd hoped for. But I'm still his daughter, I suppose, and his only one, so he alternates between life-is-all-good gushy happiness and what-the-hell-you're-such-an-idiot rage moments. Seriously, he has mood swings. And I know it's a bit ridiculous, but I'm rather glad he's in Florida right now. Because then I can turn down the volume on the phone and not listen to him scream when he does fall into his all-hell-has-broken-loose persona.
I am so close to just telling him I won't do any of this. Like, not apply to any school that requires an essay. Basically, any school in Canada. And just not putting up with all of this crap.
But it's my future, and I rather like Penn, so I want to do this. And I kind of hate him for making it come down to this, but I guess it's a life lesson in some ways. We can't all have what we want, and there are always the over-controlling supervisors (or so I've heard), and I need to learn how to deal with this so I don't get heart attacks in the future.
(Plus, I can't really hate him, because after all he's my dad and he's not always awful, just sometimes. But I digress.)
Also, my parents believe I must have learned some really great life lesson from all of my moving and such. They want me to write about it, and they think I can write something really great about it. I don't know what to tell them. "No, mom, I didn't really learn that if I work hard I'll always achieve my dreams even in adversity. I just learned that if you didn't belong to begin with you'll always feel like you don't really belong." I also learned that there is no such thing as forever, gee isn't that optimistic? I didn't learn those standard, heart-rending things they want me to talk about.
I've learned to survive, yes. But that is different depending on the person. My version of survival is living in the present. Their version is striving for success. I am okay with drifting. They are not.
I am searching for something, that is it. I am searching, perhaps for that ever elusive home, perhaps for an identity, perhaps just for a sense of peace and freedom. And it's stupid, because my going to college is against what I really want right now, and especially my following what my parents want me to do. But I don't know what to do otherwise. I am at a loss, and with no physical survival skills whatsoever, I am afraid to take that step.
I'm not you, yes, but I'm not me either.
I don't know who I am.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Without A Doubt
I am confused. Not that I had not been before, but I am increasingly more so. It is a tricky, entangling path to go down, especially now. With everything going on, college and everything. Everything now is about college. In fact, I should be writing my college essays right now, or at least do something productive, but instead (and as I have done so for pretty much every one of my free-writes in English), I'm trying to figure things out in hopes of not being plagued by all of these thoughts when I should be working.
But first. I'm going to have to say that, in the past few days (note: 10 +/-3 days with a 95% confidence level), I have read all 1300+ PHD comics. I'd show you some of my favorites, but I don't remember the links to them. I did show them all to Yuma though, so if anyone's interested, I can pull up our chat logs and search for them (among all the other links/sources of procrastination we shared).
Basically, I haven't gotten as much work as I'd like done. Although I have been really productive in getting homework done, surprisingly. I have most of next week's homework done by now (of those that I know, anyway). It's just that when I stare at my essays, I don't want to write them. At all.
Yuma too, actually. We've been talking about getting our essays done (he's writing his Caltech one, and I'm working on my new Chicago one), and it's been a rather pitiful struggle.
But I don't like talking about college stuff. So, in other news:
I am on disc 5 of my 12-disc audio book, Loving Frank. It's rather fast-paced, and I can't think of anything to describe it better than to say that [spoiler alert] in these four discs I've heard so far, the protagonist goes from Chicago to Boulder, Colorado, to Germany to France. Plus she falls in love with another married man and both her husband and the guy's wife know about this affair, and by the end of the fourth disc, pretty much everyone she knows (i.e. the entire city of Chicago) knows as well.
I wonder what the next 8 discs will be about?
The abstract says that it's based on a real story, and the guy was a pretty famous architect too (he's mentioned in this other book or something I read the other day), so I think if I wiki'd them, I'd get the plot of the entire story. But Mr. Littney says we should be focusing on the listening process, so I have a good ten hours or so more to go through. He also said we should have this done in the next two weeks. It's taken me a month to listen to four discs.
Fun. Very fun. You'll probably see me walking around the halls with my headphones more often now.
But of course, I have to go back to my confusion topic, because that was mostly why I started writing this (and also because I've been neglecting my reader-base of five these days). And since it's late, and I really should get to work, I'll make it simple.
I'd like to know how people think about me. Especially a certain few people. But since I can't figure it out (maybe my lack of sleep has something to do with it—I've been staying up to the wee hours lately doing little), and since I don't particular know if I want to know (I'm treading this line where everything is nice right now and I don't want more, but I'm afraid that the balance is going to tip soon), I guess it'll remain an open question.
One day. Maybe. But for now I'm going to focus on my essays.
But first. I'm going to have to say that, in the past few days (note: 10 +/-3 days with a 95% confidence level), I have read all 1300+ PHD comics. I'd show you some of my favorites, but I don't remember the links to them. I did show them all to Yuma though, so if anyone's interested, I can pull up our chat logs and search for them (among all the other links/sources of procrastination we shared).
Basically, I haven't gotten as much work as I'd like done. Although I have been really productive in getting homework done, surprisingly. I have most of next week's homework done by now (of those that I know, anyway). It's just that when I stare at my essays, I don't want to write them. At all.
Yuma too, actually. We've been talking about getting our essays done (he's writing his Caltech one, and I'm working on my new Chicago one), and it's been a rather pitiful struggle.
But I don't like talking about college stuff. So, in other news:
I am on disc 5 of my 12-disc audio book, Loving Frank. It's rather fast-paced, and I can't think of anything to describe it better than to say that [spoiler alert] in these four discs I've heard so far, the protagonist goes from Chicago to Boulder, Colorado, to Germany to France. Plus she falls in love with another married man and both her husband and the guy's wife know about this affair, and by the end of the fourth disc, pretty much everyone she knows (i.e. the entire city of Chicago) knows as well.
I wonder what the next 8 discs will be about?
The abstract says that it's based on a real story, and the guy was a pretty famous architect too (he's mentioned in this other book or something I read the other day), so I think if I wiki'd them, I'd get the plot of the entire story. But Mr. Littney says we should be focusing on the listening process, so I have a good ten hours or so more to go through. He also said we should have this done in the next two weeks. It's taken me a month to listen to four discs.
Fun. Very fun. You'll probably see me walking around the halls with my headphones more often now.
But of course, I have to go back to my confusion topic, because that was mostly why I started writing this (and also because I've been neglecting my reader-base of five these days). And since it's late, and I really should get to work, I'll make it simple.
I'd like to know how people think about me. Especially a certain few people. But since I can't figure it out (maybe my lack of sleep has something to do with it—I've been staying up to the wee hours lately doing little), and since I don't particular know if I want to know (I'm treading this line where everything is nice right now and I don't want more, but I'm afraid that the balance is going to tip soon), I guess it'll remain an open question.
One day. Maybe. But for now I'm going to focus on my essays.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Honesty First
On the online application for any retail job at a Stop&Shop store, it asks (something along these lines), "Have you ever taken supplies from the store (minor office supplies not included) without telling your store manager?"
Then you get to choose how much you took or, if you didn't take anything, the "none" option.
For the ShopRite application, not only does it warn you that the application will take around 45-60 minutes, it also makes you sign up for an account so you can save your information prior to submitting. I don't understand why they can't just make the applications shorter and cut out some of the stupid questions. Like, have you stolen money from your previous employer?
Seriously? If I had, would I be telling you?
Anyway. Bryant today tried to tell me about his woeful Friday, when he has five tests, and I nodded along, trying to pretend I was paying attention. Honestly, Bryant, I don't care how many tests you have. Stop complaining to me. I've got enough to worry about for myself.
But of course, instead of saying that out loud, I listened to him speculate that we would have a multi test within this week. And whine about his utexas. Among numerous other things I would not have expected to come from him, but since I never really sat close to him for extended periods of time, maybe I've just not been exposed to his more, uh, not content side.
In other (more interesting, perhaps) news, the Penn representative who was supposed to come to our school today did not show up. Or at least, I think she did not show up. The bell rang fifteen minutes after she was supposed to come, and I had an econ test next, so I told myself, "Oh, I'll wait a few more minutes." Then I saw Mr. Wollen walk by the door, so I decided, oh well, econ test is more important than listening to something I probably know already anyway.
I got an email later from my counselor saying that the rep is coming on Thursday. During my free.
A little sacrifice, but I can deal with that. I mean, I'm applying ED to this school, I should be able to sacrifice some things.
Which reminds me, yesterday, after I asked Bryant if he had a blue tie (he doesn't, but he has a red one and gold one), he randomly asked, "Just out of curiosity, where are you applying early?"
I wonder how long he's been waiting to ask me that?
I asked Dino too (about the tie), and he said, "I don't have any ties," and refused to answer my question as to why his profile picture clearly shows him in a tie. Then, as I elaborated that I'd like stripes on that tie, he asked, "Are you kidding?" Way to trust my totally legitimate inquiries.
Later on, he told me that Tybalt had such a tie, which is a complete lie.
Then you get to choose how much you took or, if you didn't take anything, the "none" option.
For the ShopRite application, not only does it warn you that the application will take around 45-60 minutes, it also makes you sign up for an account so you can save your information prior to submitting. I don't understand why they can't just make the applications shorter and cut out some of the stupid questions. Like, have you stolen money from your previous employer?
Seriously? If I had, would I be telling you?
Anyway. Bryant today tried to tell me about his woeful Friday, when he has five tests, and I nodded along, trying to pretend I was paying attention. Honestly, Bryant, I don't care how many tests you have. Stop complaining to me. I've got enough to worry about for myself.
But of course, instead of saying that out loud, I listened to him speculate that we would have a multi test within this week. And whine about his utexas. Among numerous other things I would not have expected to come from him, but since I never really sat close to him for extended periods of time, maybe I've just not been exposed to his more, uh, not content side.
In other (more interesting, perhaps) news, the Penn representative who was supposed to come to our school today did not show up. Or at least, I think she did not show up. The bell rang fifteen minutes after she was supposed to come, and I had an econ test next, so I told myself, "Oh, I'll wait a few more minutes." Then I saw Mr. Wollen walk by the door, so I decided, oh well, econ test is more important than listening to something I probably know already anyway.
I got an email later from my counselor saying that the rep is coming on Thursday. During my free.
A little sacrifice, but I can deal with that. I mean, I'm applying ED to this school, I should be able to sacrifice some things.
Which reminds me, yesterday, after I asked Bryant if he had a blue tie (he doesn't, but he has a red one and gold one), he randomly asked, "Just out of curiosity, where are you applying early?"
I wonder how long he's been waiting to ask me that?
I asked Dino too (about the tie), and he said, "I don't have any ties," and refused to answer my question as to why his profile picture clearly shows him in a tie. Then, as I elaborated that I'd like stripes on that tie, he asked, "Are you kidding?" Way to trust my totally legitimate inquiries.
Later on, he told me that Tybalt had such a tie, which is a complete lie.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Turn On The Sun, Please
[Title concept from Pickles author/artist Brian Crane.]
Mrs. Leon complained today that I always leave before class officially starts, so I promised her I'll stay for third lunch next week (hopefully, but as previously mentioned, I'm not too good with promises). Maybe I will be there in time for sonnet readings. I don't know what else I could do with an extra half-hour of English class, especially since I'm probably not reading the same things (although my class is starting Brave New World, which Mrs. Leon's class has already read).
(Additionally, Clay told me he read nearly 150 pages of BNW in around two hours. Since it's, so far, taken me five days, more or less, I will probably need to dedicate a lot more time to reading. I'm past the first part—if there are any more, I don't know yet—of the everyone-is-talking-at-once pages right now.)
Other things of interest: I went over 10 pages of metabolism bio notes last night at around midnight (so also technically this morning), and have now come up with a really condensed, analogy-ladened version of metabolism, which I will add to the end of this, because I think I want to make more of these to prepare for the midterms (Mme Pottery mentioned midterms today, which set off a wave of panic).
Also, despite the cold, and the wind, and the general misery, there was frisbee today. There is another girl now, and she is pretty good at frisbee too (a great catcher, even in this wind). I ran around too (which almost never happens, mind you), but then my stomach started hurting, so I sat down and borrowed both Yuma's and Cameron's jackets (I wanted to borrow Tobey's too, since he wasn't wearing it at first, but by the time I'd gotten around to being too cold he was cold too and took the jacket) and tried to read more books (especially my LitEx book, which I have barely started).
Then a golden retriever came along and proceeded to sit on me despite my protests. Someone called out, "Be careful, he's a pervert," and with that the dog turned around and tackled me to the ground.
On that note, here is my version of metabolism:
Mrs. Leon complained today that I always leave before class officially starts, so I promised her I'll stay for third lunch next week (hopefully, but as previously mentioned, I'm not too good with promises). Maybe I will be there in time for sonnet readings. I don't know what else I could do with an extra half-hour of English class, especially since I'm probably not reading the same things (although my class is starting Brave New World, which Mrs. Leon's class has already read).
(Additionally, Clay told me he read nearly 150 pages of BNW in around two hours. Since it's, so far, taken me five days, more or less, I will probably need to dedicate a lot more time to reading. I'm past the first part—if there are any more, I don't know yet—of the everyone-is-talking-at-once pages right now.)
Other things of interest: I went over 10 pages of metabolism bio notes last night at around midnight (so also technically this morning), and have now come up with a really condensed, analogy-ladened version of metabolism, which I will add to the end of this, because I think I want to make more of these to prepare for the midterms (Mme Pottery mentioned midterms today, which set off a wave of panic).
Also, despite the cold, and the wind, and the general misery, there was frisbee today. There is another girl now, and she is pretty good at frisbee too (a great catcher, even in this wind). I ran around too (which almost never happens, mind you), but then my stomach started hurting, so I sat down and borrowed both Yuma's and Cameron's jackets (I wanted to borrow Tobey's too, since he wasn't wearing it at first, but by the time I'd gotten around to being too cold he was cold too and took the jacket) and tried to read more books (especially my LitEx book, which I have barely started).
Then a golden retriever came along and proceeded to sit on me despite my protests. Someone called out, "Be careful, he's a pervert," and with that the dog turned around and tackled me to the ground.
On that note, here is my version of metabolism:
- metabolism = energy vs. matter
- pathways: catapults tear down for boten anna to build up
- enzymes just float around for fun
- laws of thermodynamics:
- energy is immortal;
- entropy reproduces like bunnies
- ⌂G (free energy) = ♥
- likes to roll down hills and pull on wheelbarrows full of stuff
- must push it to make it go up hills
- said hill is a step-ladder hill
- In this analogy, "guy" is the substrate:
- guy wants to go over hill
- hill too high, guy too lazy, doesn't happen
- enzyme bulldozes hill, guy goes over
- enzyme only falls in love with one guy & his clones
- enzyme thus only bulldozes hills for guy & his clones
- when going over hill, enzyme and guy link hands
- their hands fit together like gloves
- at the top, enzyme pulls hard in excitement
- guy's arm falls off
- new products = guy + arm!
- then enzyme says, "eww, wtf?"
- enzyme ditches guy for clone #1209841
- other little-known facts of enzyme-drama:
- if guy is too hot/cold or brings H2SO4/HCl/HNO3, he gets slapped, enzyme says, "Get lost," and no hills are bulldozed
- cofactors/coenzymes: the bulldozer (the machine)
- inhibitors: the 3rd wheel
- either steals enzyme away (competitive)
- or kills enzyme and laughs maniacally (noncompetitive)
- allosteric site: door for 3rd wheel, except 3rd wheel is guy's arm
- arm can help or hurt
- too many arms will distract enzyme and result in no more bulldozed hills
- cooperativity: guy1 holds hands = guy2 can hold hands too
- many enzymes + many hills + many bulldozers = metabolic pathway (multi-enzyme complex)
- all these pathways come together to form . . . THE METABOLISM WORLD.
- dun dun dunnn...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Puntastic Days
Have I mentioned my list of favorite days of the week before? I don't think I have. Anyway, it goes like this: Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday, Monday, Saturday, Sunday, and Friday.
Yes, Friday is last. It's because I never get anything done on Fridays (no motivation to get anything done), and I have every class so I'm aware that I have a lot of work I have to do, but I still never get anything done. Pretty horrible all-around.
But today is (thankfully) a Wednesday, so it's 3rd on my list, which is pretty good. A fun English class, where Cammie and I came up with very formulated thesis statements, a bio lab where I stared at lactobacteria, and a physics class where my hunger-and-lack-of-sleep-addled brain failed to recognize the direction of a force arrow and subsequently tried to figure out a question for ten minutes. Not fun.
At lunch, I caught up with Argon (a good deal of time we were separated—a full, uh, 20 hours or so), then went over to play go against Yuma. Brian and Clay watched on, while making horrendous go puns. Like, after hearing that there wasn't a go club meeting today, Clay said, "So it's no-go for the go club?" to which Brian said, "Shouldn't go club be 24/7, since you're always on the go?" That kind of horrendous. Although they didn't make any 5 jokes (to be expected, since neither of them know Japanese).
Then I decided I needed to get my recs envelopes settled, so I left the I-am-almost-being-choked-to-death-while-Yuma-is-still-calm-and-winning board to Clay and walked over to guidance with Gretchen and Brunhilda. When I came back to the table (where everyone was), Kathrya, Nyx, and Cammie started making name-puns. And saxophone puns, but I think explaining those would be going overboard (but 80% of my reader-base already knows this, so it's all right). Also, I believe I saw Bryant looking over at us at the peak of the name-puns loudness, which was slightly awkward (did I tell you before that I think his eyes scream, "I CAN READ YOUR MIND"? I must have).
The rest of the day picked up from there. There was a lot of cool vector operations in multi, which I must say was not my absolute favorite, but somewhere up there. And it just all makes sense now! I guess this is why it's so much harder to teach oneself with only a textbook. We're going to find areas of sections of planes in 3D tomorrow, which is exciting, but I have a McGill college rep visit (which reminds me, I've got to pick up the forms) so I'll unfortunately be missing part of it.
After multi was my free, which I spent in the learning center with Yuma and Clay. Clay attempted to do his utexas assignment (I must have also told you before how much I hate utexas), but he couldn't get the first question right (neither could I, as it turned out). After a half-hour consultation with Mrs. Cumulonimbus (I believe, because he has her for physics now), or some other teacher who has this free, he told me that it was because he forgot to add a negative to his answer.
Ugh. I hate utexas.
I also watched Yuma work on his chem lab. Oh, I miss chem so much. We'd considered switching science classes, whereupon I'd take chem again and he'd take physics again, but then I would need to switch my English class and he'd need to switch his design and tech class. Too complicated. Then I forgot that water and ethanol are miscible, which resulted in an "Oh, duh" moment.
Also, Clay's APUSH (I love the acronym) class is in the same hall as mine, so we walked down the hall together. Upon reaching my class, however, I realized that we were supposed to be in the lab, so I walked back again, where I spotted Argon. I convinced him that he had minutes to spare, so we stood in the hall, talking about random things, I'm sure, because I'm not sure what we talked about.
Yes, Friday is last. It's because I never get anything done on Fridays (no motivation to get anything done), and I have every class so I'm aware that I have a lot of work I have to do, but I still never get anything done. Pretty horrible all-around.
But today is (thankfully) a Wednesday, so it's 3rd on my list, which is pretty good. A fun English class, where Cammie and I came up with very formulated thesis statements, a bio lab where I stared at lactobacteria, and a physics class where my hunger-and-lack-of-sleep-addled brain failed to recognize the direction of a force arrow and subsequently tried to figure out a question for ten minutes. Not fun.
At lunch, I caught up with Argon (a good deal of time we were separated—a full, uh, 20 hours or so), then went over to play go against Yuma. Brian and Clay watched on, while making horrendous go puns. Like, after hearing that there wasn't a go club meeting today, Clay said, "So it's no-go for the go club?" to which Brian said, "Shouldn't go club be 24/7, since you're always on the go?" That kind of horrendous. Although they didn't make any 5 jokes (to be expected, since neither of them know Japanese).
Then I decided I needed to get my recs envelopes settled, so I left the I-am-almost-being-choked-to-death-while-Yuma-is-still-calm-and-winning board to Clay and walked over to guidance with Gretchen and Brunhilda. When I came back to the table (where everyone was), Kathrya, Nyx, and Cammie started making name-puns. And saxophone puns, but I think explaining those would be going overboard (but 80% of my reader-base already knows this, so it's all right). Also, I believe I saw Bryant looking over at us at the peak of the name-puns loudness, which was slightly awkward (did I tell you before that I think his eyes scream, "I CAN READ YOUR MIND"? I must have).
The rest of the day picked up from there. There was a lot of cool vector operations in multi, which I must say was not my absolute favorite, but somewhere up there. And it just all makes sense now! I guess this is why it's so much harder to teach oneself with only a textbook. We're going to find areas of sections of planes in 3D tomorrow, which is exciting, but I have a McGill college rep visit (which reminds me, I've got to pick up the forms) so I'll unfortunately be missing part of it.
After multi was my free, which I spent in the learning center with Yuma and Clay. Clay attempted to do his utexas assignment (I must have also told you before how much I hate utexas), but he couldn't get the first question right (neither could I, as it turned out). After a half-hour consultation with Mrs. Cumulonimbus (I believe, because he has her for physics now), or some other teacher who has this free, he told me that it was because he forgot to add a negative to his answer.
Ugh. I hate utexas.
I also watched Yuma work on his chem lab. Oh, I miss chem so much. We'd considered switching science classes, whereupon I'd take chem again and he'd take physics again, but then I would need to switch my English class and he'd need to switch his design and tech class. Too complicated. Then I forgot that water and ethanol are miscible, which resulted in an "Oh, duh" moment.
Also, Clay's APUSH (I love the acronym) class is in the same hall as mine, so we walked down the hall together. Upon reaching my class, however, I realized that we were supposed to be in the lab, so I walked back again, where I spotted Argon. I convinced him that he had minutes to spare, so we stood in the hall, talking about random things, I'm sure, because I'm not sure what we talked about.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
School Again, What A Surprise
Proper titling rules dictate that I should not capitalize the "A," but I am ignoring that for aesthetic purposes only. Anyway, after a long three-day weekend (yay for Columbus Day), I am back into the school routine. Which, thankfully, means reduced time for annoying college things, but unfortunately, also means increased time for schoolwork.
Since my morning was rather uneventful (we watched this "how to turn a sphere inside out" video and a few Old Spice commercials during communication time, but that was mostly it), I will skip right to French, where our teacher, who I shall now call Mme Pottery, spent most of the class showing us this music video (in French, of course) whose main ideas are "Why do we have to go to school and do all this work?" and "Oh, leave it to Charlemagne, he's to blame." Then we listened to this music video by the same singer who performed at the 1967 or 1965 Eurovision contest, and it's a song about a doll who complains that since she's so pretty she should be able to have so much, but she can't have boys falling in love with her. Or that was what I got out of it, anyway.
Great use of over an hour's worth of time.
I spent a good part of econ figuring out the tax graphs and how to draw producer and consumer burdens. Now I have the concepts down, so the graphs are easier. Yay! Unfortunately, we have a test on Monday, which means I will actually have to look over the practice test (it's quite a heavy bundle), and I am not looking forward to that.
I also spent a good part of my free convincing Yuma that math team was more important than frisbee. I'm not sure how well that went. But I did get to print out all the stuff I needed to print out (except the Naviance sheet), and then tomorrow morning I will have to schedule various meetings, but I think all is going well (so far). Clay took my computer (which reminds me, I hope he logged me off), so I got my envelopes written out and reformatted my lab, and Yuma and I folded paper airplanes according to that tutorial he found online, and we spent ten minutes or so throwing paper airplanes in the hallway. Archie, who was at the corner table, stared at us weirdly. When Clay came out, I finally managed to throw a successful, airborne, non-circling-back plane. I was really proud of myself.
Then I got all of my earlies letter envelopes settled, including seeing Tea and Kathrya multiple times in the process. After that, we (although Kathrya was just in it for the walk and the Gretchen-glomping time) went to math team, where everyone was already there. To our horrendous dismay, there was only one of the round 5 and 6 practice problems each left. Oh no! So we each took one and will now have to settle for next time.
Argon came over a while later and asked Tea about RSI. It was a long, rather drawn-out conversation, by the end of which we found ourselves all sitting on tables. Ms. Sherbert looked over at us and asked, "Are you guys practicing?"
Haha. I tried one of the geometry questions, but because I was too lazy to square numbers in my head, I didn't go further.
After math team, I went to the library, where I saw Zephy and Reese. Zephy was doing her physics homework (oh, utexas, how I loathe you so), and Reese was figuring out other people'schicken-scratch handwriting, because he got a huge list of rejects from his email list for tech club or something. So I sat down and tried to figure out said handwriting with him, and I think we got a couple of the emails (Reese's way of testing to see if the emails were valid was to send out an email with the subject line "test" and nothing else). We didn't get Superman though.
Pity.
Since my morning was rather uneventful (we watched this "how to turn a sphere inside out" video and a few Old Spice commercials during communication time, but that was mostly it), I will skip right to French, where our teacher, who I shall now call Mme Pottery, spent most of the class showing us this music video (in French, of course) whose main ideas are "Why do we have to go to school and do all this work?" and "Oh, leave it to Charlemagne, he's to blame." Then we listened to this music video by the same singer who performed at the 1967 or 1965 Eurovision contest, and it's a song about a doll who complains that since she's so pretty she should be able to have so much, but she can't have boys falling in love with her. Or that was what I got out of it, anyway.
Great use of over an hour's worth of time.
I spent a good part of econ figuring out the tax graphs and how to draw producer and consumer burdens. Now I have the concepts down, so the graphs are easier. Yay! Unfortunately, we have a test on Monday, which means I will actually have to look over the practice test (it's quite a heavy bundle), and I am not looking forward to that.
I also spent a good part of my free convincing Yuma that math team was more important than frisbee. I'm not sure how well that went. But I did get to print out all the stuff I needed to print out (except the Naviance sheet), and then tomorrow morning I will have to schedule various meetings, but I think all is going well (so far). Clay took my computer (which reminds me, I hope he logged me off), so I got my envelopes written out and reformatted my lab, and Yuma and I folded paper airplanes according to that tutorial he found online, and we spent ten minutes or so throwing paper airplanes in the hallway. Archie, who was at the corner table, stared at us weirdly. When Clay came out, I finally managed to throw a successful, airborne, non-circling-back plane. I was really proud of myself.
Then I got all of my earlies letter envelopes settled, including seeing Tea and Kathrya multiple times in the process. After that, we (although Kathrya was just in it for the walk and the Gretchen-glomping time) went to math team, where everyone was already there. To our horrendous dismay, there was only one of the round 5 and 6 practice problems each left. Oh no! So we each took one and will now have to settle for next time.
Argon came over a while later and asked Tea about RSI. It was a long, rather drawn-out conversation, by the end of which we found ourselves all sitting on tables. Ms. Sherbert looked over at us and asked, "Are you guys practicing?"
Haha. I tried one of the geometry questions, but because I was too lazy to square numbers in my head, I didn't go further.
After math team, I went to the library, where I saw Zephy and Reese. Zephy was doing her physics homework (oh, utexas, how I loathe you so), and Reese was figuring out other people's
Pity.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Again With The Emails
This is significantly less interesting than the last time, but bears mentioning because I don't want to write my Cornell essay right now.
Anyway, after much consideration (or I think it's much consideration, anyway), and much disappointment after learning that we (mostly Tea) had stolen Dr. Cans for Science Bowl on the same day as Chess Club (the conversation between Sonny, Livny, and me on this topic is appendixed below), Sonny decided to resume Chess Club once again. He sent out an email earlier, with the following message:
How delightful. I think that is also the first meeting (for new members) for Science Bowl. And since our room is in 1228, we'll be... an awkward two rooms away. So I emailed him (and everyone else, sort of accidentally) with the suggestion that he move the room to 1232, because then there will only be the chem office between the two rooms, and so they'll be connected (via the doors that lead from the office to the classrooms). Sonny agreed to that.
A few minutes later, Livny replied (to everyone):
Appendix:
1) Conversation/Telling Sonny Dr. Cans is no longer a "full-time" advisor for Chess Club (or what I remember, anyway, since some parts of it is fuzzy):
Me: Hey, Sonny, so it just so happens that Tea and Gretchen and I and some other people have started this Science Bowl club, and we got Dr. Cans as our advisor—
Sonny: Uh-huh.
Me: And our schedules were such that it could only work out on Thursdays. So Chess Club might not have an advisor anymore.
Sonny: Wait, what?
Me: We're extremely sorry about that.
Sonny: But—but—
Livny: Don't worry about it. He'll be all right. I mean, it's only been his dream for who knows how long to start a chess club, and all you're doing is crushing all of his hopes. No big deal. He'll get over it.
Sonny: Wait, but—
Livny: Hey, look, just because you've wanted this for such a long time, and it's been the only thing you've ever thought about, and it's almost as important as your life, doesn't mean—obviously, Science Bowl is much more important.
2) My chess game with Sonny during Club Rush:
After a good fifteen minutes or so, I have lost all of my pieces except a couple pawns, a bishop, and a king. Sonny has a few pawns, two rooks, and a king. He is on offense, with his rooks ready to kill my bishop and even threaten my king.
In the next five minutes (with much foot-stomping on my part because he just won't hurry up and I had to go print out stuff for English soon), we both have the same number of pawns on the board, and a king each. And nothing else.
Anyway, after much consideration (or I think it's much consideration, anyway), and much disappointment after learning that we (mostly Tea) had stolen Dr. Cans for Science Bowl on the same day as Chess Club (the conversation between Sonny, Livny, and me on this topic is appendixed below), Sonny decided to resume Chess Club once again. He sent out an email earlier, with the following message:
Thanks for your interest in the Chess Club! We will be holding our first meeting Thursday, October 21 after school in room 1234. I hope to see you there. It will be fun, and there will be candy! If you are interested in the club, but Thursday is not convenient, please e-mail me and we can try to work around everyone's schedule. See you next week!
How delightful. I think that is also the first meeting (for new members) for Science Bowl. And since our room is in 1228, we'll be... an awkward two rooms away. So I emailed him (and everyone else, sort of accidentally) with the suggestion that he move the room to 1232, because then there will only be the chem office between the two rooms, and so they'll be connected (via the doors that lead from the office to the classrooms). Sonny agreed to that.
A few minutes later, Livny replied (to everyone):
Thursday is not convenient.Well, there goes the rest of Sonny's plans. Maybe there still will be candy? Or maybe someone else will object that they're allergic to glucose and the club might as well just self-combust.
Appendix:
1) Conversation/Telling Sonny Dr. Cans is no longer a "full-time" advisor for Chess Club (or what I remember, anyway, since some parts of it is fuzzy):
Me: Hey, Sonny, so it just so happens that Tea and Gretchen and I and some other people have started this Science Bowl club, and we got Dr. Cans as our advisor—
Sonny: Uh-huh.
Me: And our schedules were such that it could only work out on Thursdays. So Chess Club might not have an advisor anymore.
Sonny: Wait, what?
Me: We're extremely sorry about that.
Sonny: But—but—
Livny: Don't worry about it. He'll be all right. I mean, it's only been his dream for who knows how long to start a chess club, and all you're doing is crushing all of his hopes. No big deal. He'll get over it.
Sonny: Wait, but—
Livny: Hey, look, just because you've wanted this for such a long time, and it's been the only thing you've ever thought about, and it's almost as important as your life, doesn't mean—obviously, Science Bowl is much more important.
2) My chess game with Sonny during Club Rush:
After a good fifteen minutes or so, I have lost all of my pieces except a couple pawns, a bishop, and a king. Sonny has a few pawns, two rooks, and a king. He is on offense, with his rooks ready to kill my bishop and even threaten my king.
In the next five minutes (with much foot-stomping on my part because he just won't hurry up and I had to go print out stuff for English soon), we both have the same number of pawns on the board, and a king each. And nothing else.
Where the Heart Is
I may or may not have already titled a post like this. It is because I have read a book of the same title, and therefore I do not remember if I have taken the name unwittingly. But it came to mind again, so I think I should talk about my heart, if not entirely, then only partially (because my writing is always rather drained when I've just finished a college essay).
. . .
This is about college. Not about where I want to go, not this time, but why. There is a practical part of me that says, "I want to accomplish something in my life," and I am listening to that part right now. There are doubts, of course—I have talked about them semi-extensively with Yuma, about the sheer random nature of my field of preference, and whether I can always find the right answers—but those are still practical doubts. Doubts stemmed from questions such as, "Will I be successful?" or "Will this work?" The practical side is my source of motivation, why I even bother doing my homework, or sitting through my French class (a language I love, but a teaching method and class enthusiasm—or lack thereof—I don't).
Then there is the wistful part, the part that says, "I've only got one life to live, I might as well." This is echoed in my stories—the constant travelling, the myriad of decisions, the utter lack of concern for "opportunity costs" and "marginal benefits." It is the side that remembers alt-127 is ⌂, and alt-15 is ☼. The voice that whispers, "It's now, or never," and then I find myself half out my bedroom window, the screen thrown up, staring at the blinking night sky with my foot dangling a foot above the ground.
So close. Yet not close enough.
I could go to college. In fact, it is to be expected. What I do out of college, that is a little more hazy, but everyone from my parents to my aunts-twice-removed think they know the answer. It is a systematic answer, in a systematic world, where one day's furious pencil-scratching can mean a future of joy (or misery). It is even formulated by systematic ways—reliability, profits, incentives, then last of all or not at all personal enjoyment.
And yes, this is also in part a rant against my cousin, who took art classes so he could get into college because they lower requirements for art schools, when my parents always made up some excuse or another. But it is not entirely that, and especially not because now he is not doing anything art-related.
It is mostly about my reasons for going to college. A good education. With tens of thousands of dollars, I would hope it's a good education. A chance to expand my horizons, so to speak, a chance to do the really exciting things that really make a difference, and not just high school textbook material.
Yes, the practical side wants that, craves that, is excited to go to school because of that (and because of the people, but that is the wistful side). It is content with the way things are going right now—it is not saying, "Don't plant your roots too deep, because there are still so many more places to be."
That voice is haunting me. Not a lot, because it is not extremely big and it is spread over many, many topics, but it lingers. It makes me wonder if this is really what I want—and sometimes, it makes me wonder if I am missing something I would rather have so much more.
A very Nick thing to think, but I have not edited and shared that story yet, so that allusion does not make sense.
. . .
This is about the past. I do not have a very long past—seventeen years, more or more. But I have discovered that the past comes swinging by, in odd yet rhythmic intervals, especially when the mood is not proper. Happy pasts in sombre moments. Sad pasts in celebrations.
Then again, I may as well name names. Here is to Dray, whom I am thinking about as I ponder the situation. Dray who drudged up a past I was not yet ready to confront, who still visits at times, such as now, and disappears at others. And here, I may confess, he is but a figment of my imagination, and it would be half-truth and half-lie, because he exists, yes, but not in the way I refer to him.
He has either created, or is the product of (or both), my series of mishaps with things that concern the heart. The wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong reasons. And the regrets, although they fade with time, and the stupid mistakes, those stay for longer. Maybe it's because I never learn from my mistakes. Maybe it's because I haven't found the rights yet.
Maybe it is all unpredictable, with a confidence interval of 50% and a confidence level that is not really confident anymore. Maybe I am smiling too much and thinking too little, or vice versa, or both.
Ah, my smiles. I don't ever smile when I'm really happy—I have laughter for that. So smiles are superfluous, usually reserved for moments that are not happy but supposed to be happy. A little masquerade I hold, although some days are more real than others.
So I try not to smile, this strange philosophy of mine. But I break it all the time, to be polite, or to put up a pretense, or to just react to the past.
Because reacting to the past is the only time I would ever smile and be happy. Not really, extremely, absolutely happy, but merely happy. And perhaps it makes little sense, but it is the truth, and the truth rarely makes sense.
. . .
This is about love. The other oft-lamented less-oft-well-lamented topic, aside from death. And once again I could name names but that would be too ridiculous, the pace I am naming and labeling him. So I will talk about the general, perhaps, and then maybe the details if I am so obliged.
The first character I'd ever come up with (that fitted the scene, of course) was Reine. It means "queen" in French, "la reine." But Reine is a prince, haphazardly turned king, with none of the composure or cunning, either or, that would make him a good king. He was subject to whims, fits of rage, an over-simplistic view of things, and most of all disconnected to the outside world. He does not care for being a king, and thus came the second character, Keno, who was, if not the most benevolent, then at least smart enough to prevent a coup d'etat. Smart and strong-willed. His younger brothers (twins, so there was no third and fourth, only next) left all the politics to him. Keit and Fate.
I mention this because I wanted to talk about Keit. The once-upon-a-time-was-a-wide-eyed-boy who got lost in the marketplace and reached out to a small, cold hand. Who gazed into a pair of blood-red eyes and set forth a tragedy that left so many people in despair. Who kept on searching for "the one who got away," and never realized he was intent on a memory, not a physical person.
But of course, this is a tragedy because I write awful comedies. With seriousness comes a lack of need for wit and dry humor, and so makes it easier to write. So I mention Keit not for his tragic elements, but for his ability to affect so many lives with only one gesture. A millisecond of his life in exchange for entire souls. That, I think, is the true power of love. The dangerous power that is not often praised because it does not always end happily, but is there, nonetheless.
That is the closest I'll come to the general without sounding trite. There are better words, I know, but I don't know exactly what they are yet. So onto the details.
With every event there is a "How did that ever happen?" moment. How it began. The roots. The date does not really matter, although I suppose it did, since it was a Thursday. That was how it sort of began, but not entirely. It does not account for the precise seating arrangement on that day, or my meeting in the social studies department, or my sudden urge to risk being late for an important affair just to call out his name. That was how it began, I think, but it was also the Thursday, or the calc test assigned prior, or, if you put it that way, arena on that fateful June day.
Or, perhaps, the day I decided I would drop my art class for biology. And was told I could not have middle east during my art class period. That could also have been it, but I think that is pushing it, stretching the connections until they become frayed strings.
But the thing about these moments is that you don't have prior knowledge to what will come out of them. Keit never knew grabbing onto that hand would result in a world split into two. I could quote The God of Small Things, and say that Estha never knew being prepared would lead to his family torn apart, or, for that matter, going to see a musical would lead to his obsession with being prepared. And I don't know what will come out of this, but I am also happy not knowing. Happy to keep it a suspense until the moment comes.
Because it is just as well for the journey, not for the destination.
. . .
This is about the future.
But I have nothing to say about the future, because it is something to be experienced, not said. So long as I have hope, I think there will be a future. A place to store my anticipations and excitements and all of the good things that are not happening right now, and maybe even some of the good things that are happening right now.
I am an optimist, yes. But more so, I am a believer of the present.
. . .
This is about college. Not about where I want to go, not this time, but why. There is a practical part of me that says, "I want to accomplish something in my life," and I am listening to that part right now. There are doubts, of course—I have talked about them semi-extensively with Yuma, about the sheer random nature of my field of preference, and whether I can always find the right answers—but those are still practical doubts. Doubts stemmed from questions such as, "Will I be successful?" or "Will this work?" The practical side is my source of motivation, why I even bother doing my homework, or sitting through my French class (a language I love, but a teaching method and class enthusiasm—or lack thereof—I don't).
Then there is the wistful part, the part that says, "I've only got one life to live, I might as well." This is echoed in my stories—the constant travelling, the myriad of decisions, the utter lack of concern for "opportunity costs" and "marginal benefits." It is the side that remembers alt-127 is ⌂, and alt-15 is ☼. The voice that whispers, "It's now, or never," and then I find myself half out my bedroom window, the screen thrown up, staring at the blinking night sky with my foot dangling a foot above the ground.
So close. Yet not close enough.
I could go to college. In fact, it is to be expected. What I do out of college, that is a little more hazy, but everyone from my parents to my aunts-twice-removed think they know the answer. It is a systematic answer, in a systematic world, where one day's furious pencil-scratching can mean a future of joy (or misery). It is even formulated by systematic ways—reliability, profits, incentives, then last of all or not at all personal enjoyment.
And yes, this is also in part a rant against my cousin, who took art classes so he could get into college because they lower requirements for art schools, when my parents always made up some excuse or another. But it is not entirely that, and especially not because now he is not doing anything art-related.
It is mostly about my reasons for going to college. A good education. With tens of thousands of dollars, I would hope it's a good education. A chance to expand my horizons, so to speak, a chance to do the really exciting things that really make a difference, and not just high school textbook material.
Yes, the practical side wants that, craves that, is excited to go to school because of that (and because of the people, but that is the wistful side). It is content with the way things are going right now—it is not saying, "Don't plant your roots too deep, because there are still so many more places to be."
That voice is haunting me. Not a lot, because it is not extremely big and it is spread over many, many topics, but it lingers. It makes me wonder if this is really what I want—and sometimes, it makes me wonder if I am missing something I would rather have so much more.
A very Nick thing to think, but I have not edited and shared that story yet, so that allusion does not make sense.
. . .
This is about the past. I do not have a very long past—seventeen years, more or more. But I have discovered that the past comes swinging by, in odd yet rhythmic intervals, especially when the mood is not proper. Happy pasts in sombre moments. Sad pasts in celebrations.
Then again, I may as well name names. Here is to Dray, whom I am thinking about as I ponder the situation. Dray who drudged up a past I was not yet ready to confront, who still visits at times, such as now, and disappears at others. And here, I may confess, he is but a figment of my imagination, and it would be half-truth and half-lie, because he exists, yes, but not in the way I refer to him.
He has either created, or is the product of (or both), my series of mishaps with things that concern the heart. The wrong place, the wrong time, the wrong reasons. And the regrets, although they fade with time, and the stupid mistakes, those stay for longer. Maybe it's because I never learn from my mistakes. Maybe it's because I haven't found the rights yet.
Maybe it is all unpredictable, with a confidence interval of 50% and a confidence level that is not really confident anymore. Maybe I am smiling too much and thinking too little, or vice versa, or both.
Ah, my smiles. I don't ever smile when I'm really happy—I have laughter for that. So smiles are superfluous, usually reserved for moments that are not happy but supposed to be happy. A little masquerade I hold, although some days are more real than others.
So I try not to smile, this strange philosophy of mine. But I break it all the time, to be polite, or to put up a pretense, or to just react to the past.
Because reacting to the past is the only time I would ever smile and be happy. Not really, extremely, absolutely happy, but merely happy. And perhaps it makes little sense, but it is the truth, and the truth rarely makes sense.
. . .
This is about love. The other oft-lamented less-oft-well-lamented topic, aside from death. And once again I could name names but that would be too ridiculous, the pace I am naming and labeling him. So I will talk about the general, perhaps, and then maybe the details if I am so obliged.
The first character I'd ever come up with (that fitted the scene, of course) was Reine. It means "queen" in French, "la reine." But Reine is a prince, haphazardly turned king, with none of the composure or cunning, either or, that would make him a good king. He was subject to whims, fits of rage, an over-simplistic view of things, and most of all disconnected to the outside world. He does not care for being a king, and thus came the second character, Keno, who was, if not the most benevolent, then at least smart enough to prevent a coup d'etat. Smart and strong-willed. His younger brothers (twins, so there was no third and fourth, only next) left all the politics to him. Keit and Fate.
I mention this because I wanted to talk about Keit. The once-upon-a-time-was-a-wide-eyed-boy who got lost in the marketplace and reached out to a small, cold hand. Who gazed into a pair of blood-red eyes and set forth a tragedy that left so many people in despair. Who kept on searching for "the one who got away," and never realized he was intent on a memory, not a physical person.
But of course, this is a tragedy because I write awful comedies. With seriousness comes a lack of need for wit and dry humor, and so makes it easier to write. So I mention Keit not for his tragic elements, but for his ability to affect so many lives with only one gesture. A millisecond of his life in exchange for entire souls. That, I think, is the true power of love. The dangerous power that is not often praised because it does not always end happily, but is there, nonetheless.
That is the closest I'll come to the general without sounding trite. There are better words, I know, but I don't know exactly what they are yet. So onto the details.
With every event there is a "How did that ever happen?" moment. How it began. The roots. The date does not really matter, although I suppose it did, since it was a Thursday. That was how it sort of began, but not entirely. It does not account for the precise seating arrangement on that day, or my meeting in the social studies department, or my sudden urge to risk being late for an important affair just to call out his name. That was how it began, I think, but it was also the Thursday, or the calc test assigned prior, or, if you put it that way, arena on that fateful June day.
Or, perhaps, the day I decided I would drop my art class for biology. And was told I could not have middle east during my art class period. That could also have been it, but I think that is pushing it, stretching the connections until they become frayed strings.
But the thing about these moments is that you don't have prior knowledge to what will come out of them. Keit never knew grabbing onto that hand would result in a world split into two. I could quote The God of Small Things, and say that Estha never knew being prepared would lead to his family torn apart, or, for that matter, going to see a musical would lead to his obsession with being prepared. And I don't know what will come out of this, but I am also happy not knowing. Happy to keep it a suspense until the moment comes.
Because it is just as well for the journey, not for the destination.
. . .
This is about the future.
But I have nothing to say about the future, because it is something to be experienced, not said. So long as I have hope, I think there will be a future. A place to store my anticipations and excitements and all of the good things that are not happening right now, and maybe even some of the good things that are happening right now.
I am an optimist, yes. But more so, I am a believer of the present.
Friday, October 8, 2010
How's Life?
I have been asked that question so many times today, I'm wondering if my face says, "Ask me how my life is going?" If you're curious, it's going by really well, although I would prefer a few hours more of sleep and a good 40% decrease in workload.
Sleep. Is. Good. And I'm not having enough of it lately.
I saw Mr. Coffee today, who asked me if econ was in the math department or social studies. I sometimes wish econ was in math. Then we'd get a smartboard, and, if we're lucky, we can shift the graphs like Mr. Booth does, and the econ graphs would make so much more sense.
Then, as I made my way over to econ after the bell, I saw Clay's French class outside the language lab, blocking the way. I think there is something about world language teachers (or at least the French ones) not arriving to class on time. Or maybe it's just classes that require stairs-climbing.
And I saw Joss too, who asked me, "How's life?"
Gah.
In econ, Yuma and I played go because I was too not motivated to do any work. Yuma won, of course, and then we started playing connect-five, and Joss then joined in, and Joss and I started playing connect-five except with gravity (like the connect-four game with the checker-like pieces). I won that game, surprisingly.
Somewhere in the middle of the class, Ali asked me, "Are you going to the Pink dance?" Which was really random, and kind of freaked me out because people are already talking about it.
Seriously. I don't know what I'm going to do about it. Stop making me more stressed.
Anyway, fast-forward after econ, multi, and some random wandering around the school. There was ultimate frisbee after school today, which Tea and I joined, except the running lasted much longer than I could handle, so after Tea left, I just used some random guy's backpack as a pillow and watched people play. Or mostly watched one person play, but whatever.
Then Brian started talking about how some sci-fi book claimed that humans are inefficient because we're intolerant, or something to that effect. We were in the courtyard at that time, searching for any abandoned frisbees (because Yuma could not find his). Then we looked up and saw Clay waving from a window on the second floor. We also saw Mrs. Pointy, but I don't remember if she waved at us or not.
We saw them again as they left out the side door while we waited for Brian's mom.
If you were to ask me how my life is right now, I think you'd know the answer.
(P.s. I left out the more creepy parts. To at least make myself appear more, uh, normal, if only on the Internet.)
Thursday, October 7, 2010
We're In High School Now
Math meet recount! This technically starts earlier, around lunch-time, when we had the third installment of club rush, and math team was scheduled to recruit new members for the year. I think the new addition of froshies has made that goal not so urgent anymore, so no one even bothered setting up a table for math team for the first 15 minutes. Then I suppose Tybalt and Bryant decided that, as captains, they should take on some responsibilities, so they grabbed an empty table and put out a sheet of paper with no posters or other things advertising their intent.
They managed to get a bunch of people's friends and Jesus Christ to sign up. No one even kept track of the paper when it was time to go to class.
Then I worked my way through the rest of my classes, all the while eager for the math meet to start. First was extended multi, which was nice and always fast even though it's a long period. Then Yuma and I went to the math learning center to do our multi homework, and—yes, Tea—I did see Clay there. Big surprise. He sat at the table in front of us while he took a calc test (limits and discontinuities, very fun stuff), so I had a nice view of his side. But that was all. Really. (Well, okay, so we also talked, but that's normal and I think Dino's the only one who sometimes outright tells me not to talk to him.)
I had middle east after that, which was kind of boring because I was so eager to leave. Every math meet Wednesday I can never sit through all of my classes. The excitement is just too much. Although we did learn a bit more about Afghanistan, and also why Osama bin Laden hates us. I missed the rest of the Afghanistan powerpoint, though. Pity.
Which segues into the next, more exciting topic, math meet!
On the bus ride to Spearheadville, everyone sat towards the back, and we discussed a wide variety of things, including hair (it's always a discussion point), math problems (well, only Tybalt and Bryant were doing them), and other things that must have not been very interesting (in the long-term-interest-retaining way) because I don't remember them. When we got to our tables (in the corner, again), Tybalt, Bryant and Dino sat with us. I guess a lack of now-graduated-seniors has made sitting by themselves too lonely (that, and the only other option is the froshie table).
We ate lots of food while Tybalt and Bryant went over more math problems. Tea attempted to (re)learn Grob's name, but much to our dismay he just ignored us. Yuma and I played a short game of go, in which Yuma once again beat me (by a lot of stones, even though I had a 4-stone handicap), and then Tybalt and I went upstairs for the geometry round. Which, by the way, was a near total failure, until Tybalt realized that his approximations gave him the right answer for the last question, and so he, in that round alone, beat almost everyone else.
Which also goes to show how awful the questions were for the most part, I suppose. Round 5 was easy, and round 6? That was insane. Even Bryant didn't get any points, and that's saying something, because he was most definitely practicing the entire way there (unlike me, who fiddled around with one question and then got bus-sick and/or distracted).
Then, as we waited for the team round (or maybe after, there was so much waiting), everyone (except me) checked their IPRs. Dino got really upset because he got a B in Spanish, even though he did well in all of the tests. Despite much persuasion that: a) it was probably a mistake, and b) he should just talk to his Spanish teacher and stop moping, he did exactly that. Moping, that is. As if a B was going to kill him or something.
He's ridiculous.
Anyway, then team round came around, and there were more weird questions. I was pretty sure I had the geometry question right, but it was worded so weirdly that we got it wrong anyway (which I still think is an error on their part, not ours). Besides, it was a geometry question. Why was there percents?!
Then I figured out a question that Bryant got wrong (even after consulting me on some of the properties). It was a kind of miraculous moment. But I guess he was having a bad day (he was close on a lot of questions but not quite there).
We also found that Grob(I chose the weird name because I don't really like him) accidentally put his middle school name in the high school space. So naturally we called him by the middle school for the rest of the evening (not that we talked to him, though).
On the ride home, Tea and Gretchen tried to figure out what happened with Clay and me. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But they wouldn't believe that. And then Argon and Joss apparently wanted to join in on the gossip fun, because Argon started whispering to Joss about something that, when questioned, he refused to tell us.
We (Tea, Gretchen, and I) concluded that it was probably something highly inappropriate. Which is weird, because I don't think Argon is ever really inappropriate, although he does laugh at inappropriate things his friends say.
And that ends this math meet recount. I've got to go finish my essays now.
They managed to get a bunch of people's friends and Jesus Christ to sign up. No one even kept track of the paper when it was time to go to class.
Then I worked my way through the rest of my classes, all the while eager for the math meet to start. First was extended multi, which was nice and always fast even though it's a long period. Then Yuma and I went to the math learning center to do our multi homework, and—yes, Tea—I did see Clay there. Big surprise. He sat at the table in front of us while he took a calc test (limits and discontinuities, very fun stuff), so I had a nice view of his side. But that was all. Really. (Well, okay, so we also talked, but that's normal and I think Dino's the only one who sometimes outright tells me not to talk to him.)
I had middle east after that, which was kind of boring because I was so eager to leave. Every math meet Wednesday I can never sit through all of my classes. The excitement is just too much. Although we did learn a bit more about Afghanistan, and also why Osama bin Laden hates us. I missed the rest of the Afghanistan powerpoint, though. Pity.
Which segues into the next, more exciting topic, math meet!
On the bus ride to Spearheadville, everyone sat towards the back, and we discussed a wide variety of things, including hair (it's always a discussion point), math problems (well, only Tybalt and Bryant were doing them), and other things that must have not been very interesting (in the long-term-interest-retaining way) because I don't remember them. When we got to our tables (in the corner, again), Tybalt, Bryant and Dino sat with us. I guess a lack of now-graduated-seniors has made sitting by themselves too lonely (that, and the only other option is the froshie table).
We ate lots of food while Tybalt and Bryant went over more math problems. Tea attempted to (re)learn Grob's name, but much to our dismay he just ignored us. Yuma and I played a short game of go, in which Yuma once again beat me (by a lot of stones, even though I had a 4-stone handicap), and then Tybalt and I went upstairs for the geometry round. Which, by the way, was a near total failure, until Tybalt realized that his approximations gave him the right answer for the last question, and so he, in that round alone, beat almost everyone else.
Which also goes to show how awful the questions were for the most part, I suppose. Round 5 was easy, and round 6? That was insane. Even Bryant didn't get any points, and that's saying something, because he was most definitely practicing the entire way there (unlike me, who fiddled around with one question and then got bus-sick and/or distracted).
Then, as we waited for the team round (or maybe after, there was so much waiting), everyone (except me) checked their IPRs. Dino got really upset because he got a B in Spanish, even though he did well in all of the tests. Despite much persuasion that: a) it was probably a mistake, and b) he should just talk to his Spanish teacher and stop moping, he did exactly that. Moping, that is. As if a B was going to kill him or something.
He's ridiculous.
Anyway, then team round came around, and there were more weird questions. I was pretty sure I had the geometry question right, but it was worded so weirdly that we got it wrong anyway (which I still think is an error on their part, not ours). Besides, it was a geometry question. Why was there percents?!
Then I figured out a question that Bryant got wrong (even after consulting me on some of the properties). It was a kind of miraculous moment. But I guess he was having a bad day (he was close on a lot of questions but not quite there).
We also found that Grob
On the ride home, Tea and Gretchen tried to figure out what happened with Clay and me. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But they wouldn't believe that. And then Argon and Joss apparently wanted to join in on the gossip fun, because Argon started whispering to Joss about something that, when questioned, he refused to tell us.
We (Tea, Gretchen, and I) concluded that it was probably something highly inappropriate. Which is weird, because I don't think Argon is ever really inappropriate, although he does laugh at inappropriate things his friends say.
And that ends this math meet recount. I've got to go finish my essays now.
My America
Is not physical, is never has never been and never will be physical. The physical things are not America, because they could just as easily be Canada, or China, maybe, or even the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. My America is metaphorical, it is a state, a phase, if you will, just as solids and liquids and gases are phases. Yet it is best described with the physical things, especially in a narrative.
My America involves subways. I could have said trains (I wanted to, at first) or cars or boats or planes, I suppose, any of them, all of them. But it is a subway, and I am sitting "in the corner seat on the subway, one of the ones that faced the front and made it easier to look out the window." Staring, of course, not out the window, because "all I could make out were the streaks of white light scratching against a dark backdrop [that] gave way to a blur of shapes and shadows that eventually solidified into people as the train pulled to a stop."
And, of course, don't forget "the sickly red State Farm ad [urging] me to open an insurance account for a car I did not own yet," or the man "wearing a deep purple dress shirt and a deeply-etched frown [talking] on his phone." Or the crowds and "their bright red and blue and purple shirts screaming against the faint humming of indistinguishable voices."
Those are all part of my America. The noise. The chaos. The confusion. But most of all, the freedom of flight.
The freedom of "being able to go wherever you want and do whatever you want, and no one will stop you and call you crazy."
Amidst all of the chaos and the craziness, there is that urge to "pack up my bags and buy a train ticket to some unknown town and hitchhike the rest of the route to anywhere at all, as long as I kept on moving, [because] I wanted to go somewhere and nowhere at all."
It is the America of the roads paved with gold. The search for that inner calling that makes us defy ordinary and lead the life we dream of.
That is my America.
My America involves subways. I could have said trains (I wanted to, at first) or cars or boats or planes, I suppose, any of them, all of them. But it is a subway, and I am sitting "in the corner seat on the subway, one of the ones that faced the front and made it easier to look out the window." Staring, of course, not out the window, because "all I could make out were the streaks of white light scratching against a dark backdrop [that] gave way to a blur of shapes and shadows that eventually solidified into people as the train pulled to a stop."
And, of course, don't forget "the sickly red State Farm ad [urging] me to open an insurance account for a car I did not own yet," or the man "wearing a deep purple dress shirt and a deeply-etched frown [talking] on his phone." Or the crowds and "their bright red and blue and purple shirts screaming against the faint humming of indistinguishable voices."
Those are all part of my America. The noise. The chaos. The confusion. But most of all, the freedom of flight.
The freedom of "being able to go wherever you want and do whatever you want, and no one will stop you and call you crazy."
Amidst all of the chaos and the craziness, there is that urge to "pack up my bags and buy a train ticket to some unknown town and hitchhike the rest of the route to anywhere at all, as long as I kept on moving, [because] I wanted to go somewhere and nowhere at all."
It is the America of the roads paved with gold. The search for that inner calling that makes us defy ordinary and lead the life we dream of.
That is my America.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I would be amiss—
—if I did not mention the math meet today. Of course, I have a lot of work, so I won't go in-depth about it today, although it was extremely fun (I can say that much).
Just wanted to mention the new xkcd comic. Went through my blog subscriptions today and saw it at the end of the list, and it is absolutely amazing. I don't know how Randall Munroe does it, really.
Also wanted to mention that I am not engaging in anything suspicious at all. None at all. Just so you know (because people *cough Tea&Gretchen cough* are doubting me right now).
And this concludes my shortest post ever.
Just wanted to mention the new xkcd comic. Went through my blog subscriptions today and saw it at the end of the list, and it is absolutely amazing. I don't know how Randall Munroe does it, really.
Also wanted to mention that I am not engaging in anything suspicious at all. None at all. Just so you know (because people *cough Tea&Gretchen cough* are doubting me right now).
And this concludes my shortest post ever.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
A Take on Lighter Subjects
In multi, Nyx, Tea, Gretchen and I (counterclockwise circle!) discussed the viability of different types of notebooks. Nyx said that her favorite was the ones bound at the top, because there aren't any annoying spiral wires and it's easy to write with. I suggested that there should be notebooks that are spiral-bound at the top, but hole-punched along the side, so you could tear the pages out and they'd still go into a binder.
To which Gretchen (I think) said, "You mean loose leaf paper?"
Then, in physics, as Boris came up to Bryant to inquire about physics problems, I noticed that he had a notebook bound at the top (unfortunately, it wasn't spiral) and hole-punched along the side. So I pointed it out to Nyx, and we explained to Boris about our discussion in multi.
"I like these notebooks better," Boris replied. "It's better to write on since I'm left-handed."
"Or you could just flip an ordinary notebook over and write on the back side," Nyx said.
"Yes," Boris said, "but I still think the world is handist."
"You would say that," Ali said, joining in on the conversation.
"It's true," Boris said. "The world discriminates against left-handed people. You try being in the minority some time." And then he realized that Ali was a minority (at least here, anyway).
So the conversation devolved into an argument of whether Boris was racist or not.
That was basically the first half of my morning. It went downhill (slightly) from there, with more powerpoints, and extended French. (I was debating with Nyx earlier whether I'd be better off in French 4 honors, or 5A. They go over a lot of the same things, so there's not a lot of material differences.) I played go with Yuma for half an hour (on the 5x5 board—that is how pathetic I am with go), then spent a good part of econ defending Yuma from Julie. Then I spent my free doing math homework and playing Plants vs. Zombies on Yuma's iPod.
Oh, the joys of life.
(I can also mention that I saw what's-his-face multiple times throughout the day, and we talked about things—including French, as it turned out—but that will probably be superfluous and will plunge this blog further into the deep dark clutches of teenage girl frivolousness—if it wasn't already.)
To which Gretchen (I think) said, "You mean loose leaf paper?"
Then, in physics, as Boris came up to Bryant to inquire about physics problems, I noticed that he had a notebook bound at the top (unfortunately, it wasn't spiral) and hole-punched along the side. So I pointed it out to Nyx, and we explained to Boris about our discussion in multi.
"I like these notebooks better," Boris replied. "It's better to write on since I'm left-handed."
"Or you could just flip an ordinary notebook over and write on the back side," Nyx said.
"Yes," Boris said, "but I still think the world is handist."
"You would say that," Ali said, joining in on the conversation.
"It's true," Boris said. "The world discriminates against left-handed people. You try being in the minority some time." And then he realized that Ali was a minority (at least here, anyway).
So the conversation devolved into an argument of whether Boris was racist or not.
That was basically the first half of my morning. It went downhill (slightly) from there, with more powerpoints, and extended French. (I was debating with Nyx earlier whether I'd be better off in French 4 honors, or 5A. They go over a lot of the same things, so there's not a lot of material differences.) I played go with Yuma for half an hour (on the 5x5 board—that is how pathetic I am with go), then spent a good part of econ defending Yuma from Julie. Then I spent my free doing math homework and playing Plants vs. Zombies on Yuma's iPod.
Oh, the joys of life.
(I can also mention that I saw what's-his-face multiple times throughout the day, and we talked about things—including French, as it turned out—but that will probably be superfluous and will plunge this blog further into the deep dark clutches of teenage girl frivolousness—if it wasn't already.)
Monday, October 4, 2010
October: A Prelude
I have found it increasingly harder to write about things that haven't happened at all, and much easier to write about things that have at least happened in part. I am not sure why—the other day, I was trying to write a story to keep my mind off upcoming college essays (because that is all I think about now), and I just couldn't do it. The beginning sounded weird, and I just couldn't go on from there.
I am exhausted, too, from all the work. I had a test in bio (yay for organelles), which took half an hour, and for the next fifteen minutes it was so hard to focus. It could also be because I don't have my chapter 7 notes, or that I just find it hard to focus in bio in general. The powerpoints make me drowsy, and there is so little math right now (I don't know if this will change). Also, I wish that this one girl in my class would just stop asking questions. I mean, I know, questions are good, but a question every other slide? Is that really necessary?
I also find it really hard to focus in econ, but I think I can manage bursts of attentiveness, so I use the lapses in-between to doodle on Yuma's or Joss's (again with the possessives) notebook. It has so far worked out really well. I am also participating a lot more, so I think Mr. Wollen has not realized my periodic lack of attention.
Anyway, I mentioned all of this (with every paragraph starting with an "I") to state what I think will be the pace for the rest of October. So, yes, I am mostly done with my common app, I am mostly done with my Penn essay, and I am half done with my Chicago essays, but there is still so much more to do. Plus I have to remember that I have two umbrellas left in my locker. I keep forgetting them.
There are, of course, happy bits stuck in-between. Relaxing times. There is math team (first meet of the year this Wednesday! can't wait), and science bowl is very, very exciting too. There is all this stuff that I can get done in my free, even though I have so much fun too. I am reading my daily dose of webcomics (both nerdy and not). Following tons of blogs. Reading lots of Middle East news (the class is doing wonders for my awareness of the area).
(This list of "relaxing" things is probably not very relaxing to many people.)
Regardless. I think I'm having a lot of fun. If I were metaphorical (and I am, but I'm not very good with music so I can't think of much to connect this back to the "prelude"), I would be talking about some musical piece right now. About how the sad, solemn pieces are broken apart by franticly happy parts. Or maybe my music of life is just set at a really fast tempo right now. Reminds me of that tango music we played back in grade eight (the one with all that plucking that gave my thumb blisters). Or maybe even "Amadeus." Don't remember much, though. I was rather glad to be rid of my music classes.
And amidst all of these musical analogies, let's hope Thursdays come by quickly. (Well, I'm also hoping 1st semester never ends, but I don't think many people hold that same hope.)
I am exhausted, too, from all the work. I had a test in bio (yay for organelles), which took half an hour, and for the next fifteen minutes it was so hard to focus. It could also be because I don't have my chapter 7 notes, or that I just find it hard to focus in bio in general. The powerpoints make me drowsy, and there is so little math right now (I don't know if this will change). Also, I wish that this one girl in my class would just stop asking questions. I mean, I know, questions are good, but a question every other slide? Is that really necessary?
I also find it really hard to focus in econ, but I think I can manage bursts of attentiveness, so I use the lapses in-between to doodle on Yuma's or Joss's (again with the possessives) notebook. It has so far worked out really well. I am also participating a lot more, so I think Mr. Wollen has not realized my periodic lack of attention.
Anyway, I mentioned all of this (with every paragraph starting with an "I") to state what I think will be the pace for the rest of October. So, yes, I am mostly done with my common app, I am mostly done with my Penn essay, and I am half done with my Chicago essays, but there is still so much more to do. Plus I have to remember that I have two umbrellas left in my locker. I keep forgetting them.
There are, of course, happy bits stuck in-between. Relaxing times. There is math team (first meet of the year this Wednesday! can't wait), and science bowl is very, very exciting too. There is all this stuff that I can get done in my free, even though I have so much fun too. I am reading my daily dose of webcomics (both nerdy and not). Following tons of blogs. Reading lots of Middle East news (the class is doing wonders for my awareness of the area).
(This list of "relaxing" things is probably not very relaxing to many people.)
Regardless. I think I'm having a lot of fun. If I were metaphorical (and I am, but I'm not very good with music so I can't think of much to connect this back to the "prelude"), I would be talking about some musical piece right now. About how the sad, solemn pieces are broken apart by franticly happy parts. Or maybe my music of life is just set at a really fast tempo right now. Reminds me of that tango music we played back in grade eight (the one with all that plucking that gave my thumb blisters). Or maybe even "Amadeus." Don't remember much, though. I was rather glad to be rid of my music classes.
And amidst all of these musical analogies, let's hope Thursdays come by quickly. (Well, I'm also hoping 1st semester never ends, but I don't think many people hold that same hope.)
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Confessions, In General
Warning: this may be gossipy in nature, written only because I'll probably never be able to talk about it as freely (or coherently, and remember everything I wanted to include). Read at your own risk.
Autumn is my favorite season, not because of anything it intrinsically is (although the leaves are pretty, and the sky is a perfect shade of far-away). I love autumn above every other season because I hate spring, and autumn is the farthest away from spring. One day I just realized that. Sat up and thought, so this is why. And said a few more philosophical words, perhaps, and left it at that.
At night, I like to imagine things. Really outlandish things. Like getting lost in a jungle and cracking complicated codes (but it’ll probably just be ugly bruteforce) and then swinging swords around to squish evil bunnies. Sometimes there are other people with me. I am not sure what happens to them in the end. By the time my dreams roll around, they are gone, replaced by more people who randomly appear in my dreams. (Last night, I dreamed about being Aaron’s girlfriend while we walked by really small, square-shaped houses. It was weird.)
I love to read comedies, and love to write tragedies. That I may have established prior. I am a huge D. Gray-man fanfiction fan, because they have just the right mix of comedy and tragedy in them with easily manipulated characters that I don’t feel as though I am reading tragedies. Not unless they are labeled as such. But lately I haven’t been reading fictional things (unless you count English assignments). I’ve mostly been reading Liane Bonin’s Project Runway recaps, because I don’t have the time (or the justification, usually) to watch the show. And because it’s fun to read the cynical remarks.
But most importantly, and the reason for all of these confessions: I lied about Bryant.
If I were completely honest, I would say that I didn’t really lie about him, but rather I jumped to conclusions too quickly. There is a part of me that knows there is something there, maybe. But I think it is not entirely, concretely real, and that while I do find his I-can-read-your-mind stares, uh, hypnotic, he is probably (most likely) the rebound guy. I realized it when I found myself stealing glances at Dino during English. Realized that perhaps I had not really gotten over Dino.
It was a bit frustrating, because a part of me was over him (and a part of me never liked him in the first place, but before it was in the minority). I should probably learn from Vincent, though. I mean, he’s found a girlfriend within a week of, well. Okay, not going in-depth with that one.
So I was (and still am) pleasantly surprised that I don’t care (more than normal, that is) about Dino these days. I don’t notice him coming or going anymore (especially not during math team—I only noticed he wasn’t there a couple hours later). He still has wonderful hair, I must admit (perhaps the hairspray killed it, though), but that is all.
And, most wretchedly, someone else is making my heart speed up more than normal (something Bryant hasn’t really done for me, so I guess that’s another sign). I think it’s the hormones or something. Really. At least he’s nicer than Dino (but since we’re comparing to Dino, I’m not sure if that says anything). And he has a really nice smile and a normal laugh (and I think he has nice hair too, although I haven’t tried it yet).
But enough about me. More about the homework I’m supposed to do.
Autumn is my favorite season, not because of anything it intrinsically is (although the leaves are pretty, and the sky is a perfect shade of far-away). I love autumn above every other season because I hate spring, and autumn is the farthest away from spring. One day I just realized that. Sat up and thought, so this is why. And said a few more philosophical words, perhaps, and left it at that.
At night, I like to imagine things. Really outlandish things. Like getting lost in a jungle and cracking complicated codes (but it’ll probably just be ugly bruteforce) and then swinging swords around to squish evil bunnies. Sometimes there are other people with me. I am not sure what happens to them in the end. By the time my dreams roll around, they are gone, replaced by more people who randomly appear in my dreams. (Last night, I dreamed about being Aaron’s girlfriend while we walked by really small, square-shaped houses. It was weird.)
I love to read comedies, and love to write tragedies. That I may have established prior. I am a huge D. Gray-man fanfiction fan, because they have just the right mix of comedy and tragedy in them with easily manipulated characters that I don’t feel as though I am reading tragedies. Not unless they are labeled as such. But lately I haven’t been reading fictional things (unless you count English assignments). I’ve mostly been reading Liane Bonin’s Project Runway recaps, because I don’t have the time (or the justification, usually) to watch the show. And because it’s fun to read the cynical remarks.
But most importantly, and the reason for all of these confessions: I lied about Bryant.
If I were completely honest, I would say that I didn’t really lie about him, but rather I jumped to conclusions too quickly. There is a part of me that knows there is something there, maybe. But I think it is not entirely, concretely real, and that while I do find his I-can-read-your-mind stares, uh, hypnotic, he is probably (most likely) the rebound guy. I realized it when I found myself stealing glances at Dino during English. Realized that perhaps I had not really gotten over Dino.
It was a bit frustrating, because a part of me was over him (and a part of me never liked him in the first place, but before it was in the minority). I should probably learn from Vincent, though. I mean, he’s found a girlfriend within a week of, well. Okay, not going in-depth with that one.
So I was (and still am) pleasantly surprised that I don’t care (more than normal, that is) about Dino these days. I don’t notice him coming or going anymore (especially not during math team—I only noticed he wasn’t there a couple hours later). He still has wonderful hair, I must admit (perhaps the hairspray killed it, though), but that is all.
And, most wretchedly, someone else is making my heart speed up more than normal (something Bryant hasn’t really done for me, so I guess that’s another sign). I think it’s the hormones or something. Really. At least he’s nicer than Dino (but since we’re comparing to Dino, I’m not sure if that says anything). And he has a really nice smile and a normal laugh (and I think he has nice hair too, although I haven’t tried it yet).
But enough about me. More about the homework I’m supposed to do.
