TOAST-Math Team Style, take OWEN

I've done this before, but here's the next installment. Sorry for the horrible delay.


NOTE: People represented in here do not closely resemble what they are like in real life. Just saying.

OTHER NOTE: Not edited. Yet. If you find any mistakes, report them to me, and I'll fix them.

Step UN: Choose your character—>

1.) Tea
2.) Owen (which is here)
3.) Argon
4.) Summer
5.) Tybalt

Step DEUX: Read the RULES—>

I. Find the number where your chosen character starts.
II. Read the first part.
III. When prompted, make a choice between either 1 or 2.
IV. After choosing, use ctrl-F to find where the next part goes. (this part may not work as well as thought to be because there are way too many repeating tags. so, uh, just go ctrl-F until something matches. sorry, it's the best I can do in one post.)
V. Have fun!

Step TROIS: Choose your fate—>


2.) Owen

It's Tuesday, and you're making your way to math team, along with Irving. Seriously. You spend so much time with Irving, you wonder what you'll do when you go off to college.

Well, that's still far, far away. And there's still plenty of months to enjoy your almost-extreme case of senioritis.

Down the hall, you see Mario looking distracted, but he has not noticed you or Irving yet.

1. Grab Mario's attention. (AAA.)
2. Ignore him. He'll captivate Irving's attention anyway, and you'll be left out. (AAB.)


AAA.

"Hey," you call out. "Mario!"

Mario looks over at you with a glazed look, as if he had just consumed a dozen sugar-glazed donuts. Actually, from the Starbucks bag he's carrying in one hand, you think your guess may not be that far off from the truth. Of course, you highly doubt Mario eats donuts.

But he's remotely better than Bryant in terms of width, so perhaps he indulges himself at times.

(And you think to yourself that Bryant should be glad intelligence and width are not directly related, but the authoress digress.)

"Hey Owen," Mario replies, still dazed. "Irving."

1. Ask Mario what's wrong. (AAC.)
2. Wait for Irving to ask Mario what's wrong. (AAD.)

AAB.

You ignore Mario. Irving will say something. He always does. If you didn't know any better (and if you hadn't known about the secret relationship Irving has with—wait, why are you even thinking this?), you would have sworn the two of them were infatuated with each other.

Instead, you watch in awe as Mario disintegrates.

Huh?

Then, you watch in more awe as Bryant comes from out of nowhere and says, "I knew this would happen! I told him so, and did he listen? No! Serves him right."

You stare at the thing in Bryant's hand that looks suspiciously like a ray-gun, and you can feel your feet inching backwards. Suddenly, you brush against something furry.

A purple bunny? What?

This is officially weird. (Because the authoress is officially tired of writing this.)

1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. the authoress got bored of this plotline). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Even though you're at the end, you decide you want to quit anyway. ("What?") (QQUIT.)

AAC.

"What's wrong, Mario?"

You manage to choke out a sentence before Irving does, and you pride yourself for this achievement. After all, he's an expert at saying things really, really fast.

"Oh," Mario says. "It's nothing."

"What do you mean it's nothing?" Irving asks. "It's always something. Come on, tell us."

"Well... but you promise you won't tell anyone?"

You stare at Mario, who looks rather uneasy. That's strange. You debate whether it's worth it to commit yourself to a lifelong sentence of sworn secrecy, just to indulge your curio--concern.

1. Promise Mario you won't tell anymore. Really. (AAE.)
2. Tell Mario you have to meet with Dino, so you'll be going now. (AAF.)

AAD.

You wait for Irving to ask Mario what's wrong, because you're sure that's what Irving would ask in this situation, but instead Irving smacks Mario on the head and asks, "How many?"

How many what? You want to ask. Of course, Mario knows what, because he replies, "Twenty."

"I told you to cut back, didn't I?" Irving shouts. "Look at you. Look at you!"

"Hey, don't look at me. Bryant had forty, and he's passed out in my car."

"Are you guys, uh," you try to say, "talking about—alcohol?"

It's the only logical solution you can think of, if Bryant has passed out. Or maybe it's drugs. Either way, it's not good.

Irving and Mario stare at you, then both start laughing. Probably at you. Ouch.

1. Ask them what they're laughing at, and hope it's not you. (AAM.)
2. Ignore them. They're not worth your time, anyway. (AAN.)

AAE.

Your curiosity wins. Big surprise. You look Mario in the eye, hold up your hand, and say, "I solemnly swear that whatever happens between us stays between us, and us only."

"Me too," Irving says. Although that's sort of cheating, because he hasn't technically sworn himself to anything.

Mario breaks a weak smile, looks behind his shoulder to make sure no one can overhear him, and then turn to the two of you with a very serious face.

"I'm experimenting on my purple bunnies along with Bryant, but lately, Bryant seems to be too fondly attached towards the smallest one, and I'm afraid he won't let me carry out my experiments anymore."

Uh, what?

1. Try to say something intelligent. Even if you have no idea what Mario just said. (AAG.)
2. Just keep on staring. When in doubt, stare. (AAH.)

AAF.

"I'm sorry, Mario," you say, "but I have to go. Dino's waiting for me."

Mario doesn't even look at you, but Irving drags you back and says, "Come on. This is probably good. You don't want to miss it. Dino can wait a while."

You try to protest. "I really don't think—"

"I love you, Irving," Mario suddenly says. Irving drops your arm. You drop your jaw (hey, you can't drop your own arm). What? Did you just hear that right?

"I was going to give you this bag of donuts," Mario continues, "as a present, you know. But I ate it on my way here."

"I—uh—you—" Irving sputters.

1. Ask Mario, "Are you serious?" (AAK.)
2. Tell Mario, "So are you going to get Irving any other gift now that you've eaten his?" (AAL.)

AAG.

You decide anything is better than plain silence, so you begin to form some words in your throat. Or, more like, you begin to gurgle and babble.

"Uh—well, what—I mean—that—"

Luckily for you, Irving is much more level-headed. "What kind of experiments are you carrying out on these bunnies?"

You think there are much more pressing questions, such as why are you experimenting on bunnies? or why are these bunnies purple? or even why and how is Bryant involved in this craziness? But since Irving is the one with the words, you keep quiet. Perhaps you should reconsider the friends you make, but it doesn't matter now, since you're going off to college soon anyway.

Weren't you just thinking that you're glad college is so far away? You think you might have had a change of heart, because you can't imagine anything more wonderful than college "happening" right now, taking you away from Mario and his purple bunnies.

No offense to him, or Bryant, in any way.

1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. the authoress got bored of this plotline). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Even though you're at the end, you decide you want to quit anyway. ("What?") (QQUIT.)

AAH.

You can't vocalize your thoughts, so you just stare at Mario. As does Irving. Both of you stare at him, then at each other, then at anywhere but each other.

"Ahem," Mario says. "Anyway, I thought I should bribe Bryant with some donuts (you were right about the contents of the bag) so he'll forget about the bunny, but I accidentally ate all twenty donuts."

Well, twelve, twenty. Big difference. Besides, it's not as if anyone can win their way with Bryant through his stomach.

"What are you going to do now?" Irving asks.

"I don't know," Mario says. "I've been stressed out over it, but I think I'm going to get #4 to steal it while I talk to Bryant so he thinks I'm innocent."

That doesn't work, you want to tell Mario, because you're 95% confident (plus or minus 3%) that Bryant can read minds. But you're more concerned about who this #4 is, and you don't think you really want to know.

1. Ask Mario who #4 is. It can't be that bad, can it? (AAI.)
2. Whatever. It's not like you want to know, anyway. Right? (AAJ.)

(AAI.)

Once again, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to ask.

"Mario, who's #4?"

Mario stares at you as if you had just suddenly morphed into Dino. Ew. Bad thoughts. Really bad.

After a long, long silence, in which Irving just stares at the two of you as if you two were really fascinating, which, you would like to take a moment to say, you really are fascinating, Mario suddenly says, "Oh."

Huh?

"You should know #4. He occasionally goes to stat, if #1 can't go for some reason."

You're really confused right now. "Who's #1? Who are these people?"
"Wait, you mean you don't know #1? Oh no, what have I done?!"

Mario runs down the hall, wailing, and leaving both you and Irving possibly forever traumatized. And you still don't know who #4 is. Actually, you're not sure if you really even know Mario by now, and everything seems this huge mix of thoughts and memories.

1. Give up. This is just way too weird. (QQUIT.)
2. I don't have any other options, so if you don't want to quit, then, uh, the end? (THEEND.)

(AAJ.)

Before you can do anything, Irving speaks up. Nervously.

"Oh, hi, Bryant—"

You look over Mario's head. Bryant is there, glaring at the three of you. Or maybe he's just glaring at the back of Mario's head. Mario spins around, stares at Bryant's evil eyes, and stammers, "Uh, hi, Bryant, funny seeing you here."

"You were thinking about killing Cuddles!" Bryant screams.

"Cuddles?" Irving asks. "You named your bunny 'Cuddles'?"

Bryant turns to glare at Irving instead. Which is rather fortunate, because now he is not glaring at you. You slip behind Mario and co. just as Dino pokes his head out of the math team room and asks, "What are you screaming about, Bryant?"

You know you're Dino's brother and all, and you should save him from his fate (or what's left of it, anyway), but your life is at stake as well. You pray that Dino is good enough friends with Bryant, or Tybalt will come out and calm Bryant down, or—

Really. Why think? Just get out of here while you still can. Now.

1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. the authoress got bored of this plotline). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Even though you're at the end, you decide you want to quit anyway. ("What?") (QQUIT.)

(AAK.)

"Are you serious?" You ask, afraid to hear the answer. It does stop you from looking like a gaping idiot, though, so at least something is good.

"Of course not," Mario says. "I was just going to say that to Bryant, so I can distract him from more important things."

"Like what?" Irving asks, having caught his breath.

"Like how I'm going to be having #4 steal his baby purple bunny away for my experiments."

That is very, very strange. Too strange. You have lots of questions to ask, but perhaps this would also be a good time to get away and find Dino and tell him of this craziness.

1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. the authoress got bored of this plotline). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Stay for a bit longer. Maybe Mario will spout more nonsense? (AAJ.)

(AAL.)

"Hey, uh, Mario," you say. "Are you going to get Irving any other gifts then? I mean, since you've already—"

Mario looks at you suspiciously. "Maybe," he says. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing. It's just, well—oh, nevermind."

"Are you jealous of me?" Mario asks.

You can still hear Irving sputtering. Maybe he's choking. You hope it's not serious, but you don't dare look at him what with the (deathly) looks Mario is giving you right now.

"No, I'm not!" You defend yourself, silently promising never, ever to get in Mario's way, ever. "I don't even like Irving. I like, uh—I like Melissa!"

Which is a lie, but she was the first person to pop into your head. Probably because she's standing a hundred feet away, looking at you.

Life just doesn't get any better, does it?
1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. the authoress got bored of this plotline). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Even though you're at the end, you decide you want to quit anyway. ("What?") (QQUIT.)


(AAM.)
You decide to get to the bottom of this. "What are you guys laughing at?"

"Ha, alcohol—" Mario laughs, tears forming in his beady eyes (maybe it just looks beady because of the tears). "You thought we were drinking!"

Irving howls. "Come on, Owen! You can do better than that. Think about it. It's Mario. And Bryant. What could they be doing?"

This isn't really funny, and you don't see why they're laughing like this, when—

You can't seem to stop laughing yourself. Everything's hazy, and you're not sure what you're saying anymore, but it makes Mario laugh, which makes Irving laugh, which makes you laugh, which makes Mario laugh even harder, which—

As you start to fall unconscious from lack of oxygen, you think you see Bryant's outline, along with... a purple bunny? You must be dreaming, you think, as everything turns dark.

1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. you can't breathe). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Even though you're at the end, you decide you want to quit anyway. ("What?") (QQUIT.)


(AAN.)

You ignore the two of them and go into the math team room, where Dino, Tybalt, Argon, Tea, Gretchen, Ginny, and Micro are doing math problems. Not surprisingly, Bryant isn't there.

"What's going on outside?" Dino asks you.

"Nothing," you say. "Just Irving and Mario being—"

You want to say "jerks," but suddenly the laughter stops, and then someone screams. You rush outside, with everyone following you, and you see something purple and a skinny backside that sort of resembles—who was it again?—you can't remember. Mario and Irving are gone, and the skinny back disappears before you can call it to stop.

"Hey, Owen," Tybalt suddenly says, "have you seen Bryant anywhere? He went out with Mario, but he hasn't come back yet."

Bryant—skinny back—yeah right. They can't be related.

1. Whoop-de-doo! You've arrived at an end (i.e. the authoress got bored of this plotline). Try again? (THEEND).
2. Even though you're at the end, you decide you want to quit anyway. ("What?") (QQUIT.)





THEEND.

Yay! You've reached the end of the story, or whatever is left of this story. If you wish, you can: a) leave a comment below; b) go back to the beginning and try again; or c) leave a comment below.


QQUIT.

Oh dear, what happened? Did you fall into a wormhole and lose consciousness while aliens invaded the planet and ate your favorite Hershey's bar? Whatever the reason, it's too late now. Go back to the top and try again, and maybe you'll have better luck this time.

In the Never Before Seen, Exclusive Side of Nephria

Namely, my unpublished drafts. Events and such that once upon a time merited some words, but then was either not important enough to be published (because other, more important things came up), or I got sidetracked and therefore did not find the time or effort to finish and publish them. Well, I'm doing a summer cleaning of sorts, in tune with my neighbor cutting down all the trees surrounding his house because one happened to be uprooted in the storm a few days earlier.

Other thing(s) before I begin: I passed my permit test! Well, sort of. I took the vision test first, which was basically me squinting and making up numbers, and the testing official being distracted (and talking to someone else) while saying, "All right, you passed, go on to the written part." Then I stood between two guys also taking the permit test, one of which passed, and one of which failed. After that, the testing official (someone else, I think) told me I had to wait because they were checking whether I was an illegal immigrant and other things like that. I mean, my visa (in my passport) wasn't enough? If I were illegal, how did I ever survive two years here?

Alas, it's protocol.

So I'm waiting to get my permit (hopefully) on Tuesday, the same day my dad leaves for Florida. On our way back from the DMV, my mom told me about the intricacies of turning (she doesn't use the hand method mentioned in the book) and the gas/brake pedal.

Now onto excerpts of my unpublished fun-stuffs.


Jan. 20th: Addicted to Freedom

Exams are finally over! I've been thinking about writing this post (what little time I had not cramming for calc or writing stories about Owen), and finally, it's time!

Alas, freedom is like that thing with feathers that perches in your soul, and comes out every so often, but is soon harnessed back by the chains of reality.

Well, the first part came from a poem by Emily Dickinson describing hope (which was on my English midterms), and I made the second part up.

The actual "exams" part of exams wasn't too bad, I suppose. I talked to Kyle after our stat exam, and he said it was just as he expected.

Even the fact that Mrs. MacDonald wasn't there.

But enough about them!

It's finally time to (besides finishing my EOQR) start on the miserable path of Owen-ness.

I would ask for your opinion, Owen, but considering you probably will never read my blog (or even know that you're Owen on here), I guess I'm on my own.

Jan. 23: Letters to Allie

Forty minutes to midnight.

He sat there, a piece of paper in his hand, musing. It was not in his nature to think—he was more of a do now, think later kind of person, as the twins once noted. The twins were the more contemplative types, thinking over every characteristic of the people they encountered, but he had always loved actions more than thoughts.

Right now, he wondered if it was too late to change his habits. Doing had gotten him nowhere, and now he needed answers.

Time was not waiting for him as it had always done.

He picked up the phone from his desk, stared at the glowing numbers. Who to ask? Who knew what he wanted to know? Who could he trust?

He had made enough enemies, he knew that. He had made enough mistakes. But this was one mistake he could not afford to make, one that could break his spring, crush him until he forgot who he was and why he was.

Thirty-seven minutes to midnight.


Feb. 1: Overdue-Part II

As we eventually all settled back into our rooms, with enormous amounts of junk food, we began to refocus on the problem. Or, at least, we tried to refocus on the problem. The fact that every ten minutes or so, a commercial about Saf-t-Swim, coupled with a matching "jingle" set to the tune of the Barney's theme song, would pop out of nowhere was slightly irritating.

Apparently, I was not the only one.

"If I hear that song one more time," Mogley said, "I will kill someone."

We all stared at Reese (except himself, of course).

"What?" Reese asked. "What did I do?"

"Okay everyone," Ben said. "Let's focus. What do we still need to do?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe search up how far our food travels? Ugh, I think I'm starting to get sick from all the cheese I ate."

I had not mentioned this before, but for lunch, I had ordered the all-cheese sandwich, because I was not a fan of turkey and I thought that cheese might have been a nice alternative. Well, the cheese was good. There was just so much of it, all dripping down everywhere. I even splattered some on the ground.

"And the candy," Joss added, motioning to the bag of candy I had in front of me.

"Hey," Reese said. "Let's turn off the lights."

I had no idea where this suggestion came from, or why, but we all agreed to it to some extent. The sun was still out by that time (although it may have been cloudy; I don't remember), so it was fairly bright in the room, especially with the light from the Smartboard. We resumed our old sitting positions, with Mogley and Ben at the desks, Joss and I on the ground, and Reese probably floating around somewhere. None of us really cared where he was, as long as he didn't distract us.

"I'm going to go get some water," Reese suddenly said. "Anyone wants to come?"

"Nope," I said.

"No," Joss said. "But get me a bag of candy while you're there."

"Oh, and get me a tea," Ben said. "What do they have?"

"Peach, lemonade, and berry."

"Okay," Ben said. "Get me a peach tea."

"Get me a berry tea," Mogley said.

"Does anyone else want drinks?" Reese asked, exasperation in his voice. But with him, it could have just been his normal voice.

"Nope," I said.

"Don't forget my tea," Mogley said.

"And don't forget my candy," Joss said.

Reese disappeared into the hallway. After a while, he came back, several food and drink items in hand.

"Here's your candy," Reese said, handing Joss a bag. He placed a can in front of Mogley. "And here's your drink."

"Did you remember my peach tea?" Ben asked.

"Oh, darn," Reese said. "I forgot."

"Cherry?" Joss exclaimed as he examined his candy closer. "Of all the flavors, you had to get cherry?"

"This tastes bad," Mogley said, after having tasted his berry tea.

"Okay, okay," Reese said. "I'll get everyone new drinks. What do you want?"

"Peach tea," Ben said.

"Lemonade," Mogley said.

"Non-cherry flavored candy," Joss said.

"They don't have anything else," Reese said.

"Another peach tea for me as well," I said.

Reese sighed and left the room again. When he was gone, I turned to look at the group.

"Did you guys really want more drinks, or did you just want him gone?"

"A little of both," Mogley said.

Oh, I can feel love in the air already. We waited for Reese to come back, and then settled back into what we were supposed to do. Which included making random outbursts over whose grammar--or lack thereof--was more correct.

Mr. Flatgrass chose this moment to pop into our room.

"Hey guys," he said. "You guys turned off the lights? To conserve energy?"

We laughed and heartily agreed. After he left, Reese said:

"He didn't realize that we had the Smartboard on. This thing uses more energy than all of the lights combined."

"Really?" I asked. Or maybe Mogley asked. I don't remember, but we were probably thinking along the same lines.

"Yeah," Reese said. He turned off the Smartboard, plunging us into darkness. It was really dark by now, which just showed how efficient we were. We all protested for Reese to turn the Smartboard back on, because we couldn't see anything.

In the end, Reese gave in, but not before putting Blackle on the projector-side of his dual screen and depriving us of more light.

We resumed our work, posting all of our sources onto an Etherpad site so Reese could MLA it all. (And I know that MLA is probably not a verb, but it's more fun as one.) We each had our own signature color (mine was purple), and originally, we had each typed our names in the spot where we identify ourselves. But of course, that wasn't going to last.

"Hey Ginny," Joss poked me. "Check out the Etherpad thing."

I turned suspicious and ctrl-tabbed on Joss's (again with the possessives) computer--only because he had Chrome and I had Opera and Opera and Google Docs are not compatible, so we had switched computers--until I reached the Etherpad tab. There, next to the red block, was the name "God."

I immediately remembered the book Tea had talked about, and changed Joss's name to "Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret," and mine to "Yes, it's me, God."

"Mogley," I said, spying our next victim. "Can I see your Etherpad thing for a moment?"

Mogley stared at me skeptically. "Why?"

"Just checking something."

Reluctantly, Mogley handed over his computer. I typed in "It's me, Annie. I hate you, Margaret."

"What?" Mogley stared at me weirdly. Lots of staring going on lately, it seemed.

I scuttled back to my computer and started typing in the Etherpad chat window. Joss punctuated every few lines with some random comment, such as SPARTA. Of course. After a while, Mogley caught on to what we were doing as well, and changed his name to "Reese, if you read this, you are going to suffer in seven days."

"You're nice," I said, sarcastically. I really liked the Annie line, so I put it in Reese's namespot instead.

"Whatever," Mogley said. He called out to Reese to check Etherpad, so, of course, Reese joined in on our chat virtually.

Annie (Reese): what Mogley? (Reese had actually used another nickname, but that would probably make Mogley's identity too clear.)

God (apparently me): hey Annie.

Annie: hey God.

God: how's life, Annie?

Annie: it's great, God.

Margaret (Joss): LOL\

Annie: :(|

Margaret: LOLOLOLOLOL

Annie: ....... (and on and on and on, but I don't like the dots so much myself.)

Reese (Mogley): yo cease.

And of course, Reese (the real one) proceeded to spam the chat with lots of dots. I offered up a virtual challenge, saying that I could probably out-spam him. Reese took it on willingly, and we started spamming the entire chat with gibberish letters (me) and lines of dots (Reese).

Suddenly, Reese said, "Who's typing?"

Oh wow. So he didn't know it was me. Joss, Mogley, and I all started laughing (rather suspiciously). Ben just buried his head into his work.

"Come on, it's one of you guys. Who's typing? Joss?"

"It's not me," Joss said.

"So it's Mogley then," Reese concluded.

"Nope," Mogley said. "I think you can tell who I am in the chat."

"Come on, who is it?"

"The one person you're not guessing," Joss said, "is actually the one you're looking for."

Mar. 4: Test Mornings

I am very, very happy I am not a sophomore right now.

There are some things I do not like about junior year (research paper, hello? and in response to my English teacher's reply to Mogley's remark of not being a "published author," I would rather not be known for my research paper, what with its present quality), but let's face it. Standardized tests are miserable. Standardized tests that last for a very, very long period of time (weeks, in fact) is downright dreadful.

Apr. 18: Undoubtedly Bored Again

Was a questionnaire. Probably didn't post it because I had other, more interesting things to talk about later (i.e. Princeton). Will post it later, maybe. Dino's not in this one. Hmm.

May 4: Santiago's Where It's At

Okay, this reminds me, we (me, Gretchen, Tea, maybe others) are right now suspended, perhaps indefinitely, above the Pacific Ocean. Not a good place to be when you're in a plane. So hopefully I'll move us out of here.

But here's the excerpt:

Ever since our trip to Easter Island, we (meaning me, Gretch, and Tea) have been stranded in limbo land because of the late onslaught of tests and such, so we (mostly me) decided that now would be a good time to actually arrive at Santiago and not be indefinitely stranded in mid-air.

Then Gretchen told me that she, too, wishes to be somewhere (mostly Japan) and not stuck in mid-air where weird currents can blow us over to Area 51 where Dino hangs out on spare weekends communicating with the other robots and aliens in a modified Morse code, so I decided that, yes, today would be a good time to arrive at Santiago.

And that's it, I suppose. This is very, very long because of that "Overdue" post that I should have posted earlier (ahem, a few months earlier), but I'd never gotten around to due to HUSH. Otherwise just a few things that I might have missed that I think should be out here and not lost forever.

Also, please, dear neighbor, plant your trees back. I don't want to die of CO2 poisoning.

Hey, you! Yes, you.

A while ago (back in April) I wrote a post promoting equality amongst my equivalent of Gretchie's "imaginary friends." I had twenty people, because that was the most number of labels I could include, and since it's pointless if I mention someone but doesn't include their label, I just chose twenty people.

Today's lucky people are:

• Amanda
• Camel
• Dora
• Gretchen
• Irving
• Joss
• Mario
• Matt
• Melissa
• Micro
• Mogley
• Nyx
• Owen
• Reese
• Sonny
• Stella
• Tamir
• Tybalt
• Vincent
• Yuma

(*Zephy: Sorry! I was also going to include you, but you were the 21st, and therefore did not fit. I will dedicate a new post entirely to you later.)

But before all of this, I would like to say that I have started reading the DMV booklet for my permit test, and it's so far going well. I don't know what kind of test they have though, so we'll have to see. And besides, I suck at memorization.

Also... why, why do they use clock hands for steering wheel positions, instead of diagrams? I like my digital clock just as much as the next person, and the only time I use analog clocks are when I'm trying to figure out how much time I have left in a class, and it's become second-nature to me that I don't even know the hours, just the minutes.

Anyway. Let's commence!

Amanda-Amanda's sent out a FB message to me (along with various other people) asking me if I wanted to join her on a NYC trip sometime in the summer. I do, but I have to okay it first with my parents, so I'm holding on responding just for now.

Camel-I don't think I'll ever have another class with Camel. He's being boring and taking Physics B and Calc AB, and somehow I don't think he's going to take AP Lit or any of my other classes. Doesn't sound like him. We don't really talk outside of communicating with Nyx, so I guess we won't really talk ever again.

Dora-Right! Movies, possibly. I still have to get back to her on that as well. So many things happening this summer! I'm glad that summer's finally here. There's definitely less stress right now, which is good, but I think I'm going to be looking forward for school to start, surprisingly.

Gretchen-Can you believe she's behind Irving, of all people, in my tag-list? I can't. Well, I suppose it's because of all the math team things where I mention Irving because he's usually doing something outrageous (but usually less so to some extent) with Mario. Anyway, Gretchen and I need to land in Japan soon. I'm getting a little air-sick right now.

Irving-Mentioned above, and that I probably won't ever see him again, unless I get into Hahvahd (unlikely) or get into MIT (also unlikely) and he happens to bike by because I can't bike by him since I don't know how to bike.

Joss-He still has spiky hair, even though he cut it shorter earlier. I don't know what else to say of him. Not very exciting right now.

Mario-Oh, Mario. What to say of him? I think he's going to have superiority issues next year in math team. To think that he said of Irving's behavior during Moody's, "I think he had trouble realizing who was the real boss. Next year there won't be a question as to who's in charge." No doubt. It's not him.

Matt-Super skinniness aside, he's leaving as well! I somehow cannot process that, even though I could process Irving and Owen and Melissa leaving. I guess it's because he wasn't away on the senior internships, so I haven't really felt him leave. I'm really going to miss him, even if he doesn't talk much.

Melissa-Ambivalent on her leaving. I think things are going to be a lot quieter without her, which is both good and bad. We won't have her cookies anymore as well, so that could be bad.

Micro-I'm trying to communicate to him in sign language, but neither he nor Sonny understands it, so Yuma and I are having a particularly difficult time.

Mogley-Didn't know he was taking Econ next year. Maybe we'll be in the same class again. He had English scheduling problems earlier, and I told him, "Just get AP English," to which he said, "No way, me?" Our English teacher agreed with his sentiment, and not just because of his horrible grammar (I still can't forgive him for writing lists without commas).

Nyx-Has a super early arena time but has no need for it because of her singletons. I'm slightly envious, but then I remember that no matter who I have they're either not bad or they're unavoidable, so I don't care that much either. And I'll probably have physics with Tea (unless it runs out) so it doesn't concern me very, very much.

Owen-Writing about Owen here reminds me of his alpaca. Also my "choose your own adventure" story. Otherwise he doesn't remind me of anything except that I don't know who's going to keep Dino well-oiled in the next year. We might see an increase in system crashes then.

Reese-I'm talking to Reese on Gchat a lot now. He's using Digsby, which is apparently similar to the device that Tea uses except for PCs. I shall have to try that out soon.

Sonny-He's hilarious, even if he doesn't mean it. He also can't understand sign language or exaggerated waving. Also, I found out how freaky he looked while sunbathing with Scott and the like. A row of guys lying down on the ground in the courtyard just looks weird.

Stella-I don't talk to her nearly as much now. I should. In fact, I will talk to her today as soon as I get this Digsby thing working.

Tamir-Why did I even first mention him? Why do I keep on mentioning him? I don't know. Whatever.

Tybalt-From what I've heard from Kathrya lately, he's exceedingly sweet. This disproves my best friend from back before's theory that all guys are jerks. But then again, I knew that a long time ago. Besides, it doesn't disprove the theory that some guys (ambiguity on how many) are jerks.

Vincent-I need to go over to his house more often if it means more Clue time. I'm addicted to the game. It's unhealthy, I think, both physically and emotionally.

Yuma-I never knew he was so good at go, but then again, Yuma is amazing at a lot of things. We definitely need him on our Moody's team next year. Also, Mrs. MacDonald said that she was looking forward to seeing me (and presumably everyone on our team) next year for Moody's. I think that basically guarantees that, if we don't do something stupid and smoke pot in front of the principal or something like that, we're going to be on a team (if not on a team together) next year.

Whew. Now let's see if anything on my "Noteworthy" list looks better now.

Busy, Busy, Really Busy

I decided to tie off some loose ends in my life lately, or at least with regards to school. In particular, I talked to my counselor yesterday about my dysfunctional classes (namely English) during lunch, and then after school I made several trips around the school trying to figure out what I had always told myself I would do, but never got around to it.

Well, I saw Mr. Booth before stat, and I asked him if he would write a college recommendation for me. He asked me to talk to him after school, so I did, and we came to a rather nice agreement (after staring at some funky multi graphs). He also told me that there will be a final math team meeting for the year next Wednesday (note: more on this to come), in the Community room. It is to be a food affair, I gathered, and it's held then so the seniors can come back from their internships (ending this week).

So if anyone was wondering when the last math meet will be, read on.

I then went to find Dr. Moles to discuss my pending AP Bio issue, but I had no idea where his office was. I tried the bio cluster first, but I didn't see him, and instead, I saw Ms. Sherbert, who told me where his office was. She then proceeded to tell me that the math meet was on Tuesday, which confused me a lot. I told her that Mr. Booth had mentioned Wednesday, so now we will have to wait and hear.

I also finally talked to Dr. Moles, who set me on the holy grail towards AP Bio.

After that, I borrowed the required reading for AP English, which is somewhat similar in plot to GWTW, so I will once again be using that as another one of my summer reading material.

Latest update today: math meeting is on Wednesday. No sushi, I suppose (although anyone who wants sushi can drop by the calc classroom early next Tuesday before the party officially starts). Also, Dino has recommended that I bring pudding, although he won't be there so it doesn't matter. I could always bring some pudding on Wednesday as a parting gift for Irving and Owen. I'm sure they'll appreciate it.

Now for things I've still got to do: HUSH portfolios, finish Othello, stat project (but it's coming along nicely because of Fathom's awesomeness), get signed up for bio somehow, and revive my clubs.

ALERT: Command Chain Broken

Well, it was just Dino wearing a red shirt yesterday. Actually, let me repeat that. Dino was wearing a red shirt yesterday.

That's right. No navy, no navy and white, no navy and brown, no navy and palm trees, no navy and—you get the point. And it wasn't any predominantly navy shirt with a few lines of red text or anything like that. It was full-on red. Red as the bloody mountain sunsets. Red.


If this does not surprise you, let me place it in context by quoting Sonny, who talked to Dino after I pointed out to him that Dino was wearing a red shirt.

"You can't just pull off a red shirt like that! I mean, for the past few years, all you've ever worn were the same three navy shirts in circulation, and then—bam!—yesterday you had a brand new navy shirt, and today, this red shirt! What is going on?!"

Yeah. That was why this had been so, uh, newsworthy. Because all of a sudden, Dino decided to expand his wardrobe or something. With a totally uncharacteristic color such as, dare I repeat it again, red. Mind-blowing.

Also, for some reason, Sonny was the one wearing the navy shirt yesterday. Oh, whatever has this world come down to?

I'll be the gossipy girl and speculate that it's because he went prom-shopping lately, and whilst there, he finally decided that he was going to listen to pretty much everyone around him and buy a few shirts that are not some combination of navy and navy. (Also, I would hate to imagine what would be his color of choice if the Yankees were orange and green and purple instead of their present navy and white.) Or maybe Lauretta inadvertently (or advertently, even if it's not a word) told him that a) she didn't like the color navy, b) she didn't like how he wears the same color every day, and/or c) she liked red better. If she did, then the fashion world is much better off with her presence (not that it wasn't before, I'm sure, but now even more so).

Then, of course, comes the question: why would he choose the color red when he's red-green colorblind? This part is what makes the part c of the Lauretta theory so much more plausible than any other theory out there so far. Or maybe Owen likes red a lot and is now trying to push it upon Dino. Or... Dino needs to wear red to absorb certain waves (that have wavelengths only absorb-able by red shirts) to ensure the proper functioning of some part of his circuit board.

That must be it.

(Totally unrelated, but Dino has a nice back. Very cushion-y but not too soft.)

So This Is What It's Like After APs

I had calc first period this morning, and when I walked in, Sonny and Dino were already there (I don't remember seeing Sonny at the library this morning, so either I somehow missed him, or he went straight to class). Since I was on my MID*, I sat down and took out my physics lab, the one that was due today that I was going to do at 2AM, but decided against it after reading three chapters of BDSMN. Interesting how physics labs always have titles with puns and such. I still remember one of our earliest labs, on kinematics and using fans attached onto plastic cars, was called "I'm a Fan of This," and my lab today, on standing waves, was called "Do The Wave."

Anyway, I had already started by drawing the x- and y-axis, and labeled them with Tea's help. That was only question one. I had around five questions in total, and question five had five parts. So I started plotting points and writing down definitions. Mrs. James (along with most of the class who were not away) came in within the next five minutes, and then we promptly started class.

Which was mostly Mrs. James trying to guess what our—oh, wait, I can't say, it's not been 48 hours yet, but it's the last question on the free response, if you know what I'm talking about (and if you don't, it's not a huge loss). Then Scott talked about the AP econ finals scandal, and how one of Mr. Wollen's class will not be getting a curve on their test because of the suspicion of cheating. Mrs. James said we could watch movies for the next week, and then we had to get down to work (the long-awaited project), but it would be nothing too hard. Half-way through the class, Mrs. Pastel came in and talked about how the two period 5 calc classes should compete against each other in outdoorsy activities the week after the seniors are gone.

By the time the bell rang, I had finished four questions, and was on my fifth, and I think that had been one of the most unproductive calc classes I have ever had (except on those days when Mrs. James was out and we played computer games instead of the problem sets she gave us).

I managed to finish my lab by period 4, my physics class, and handed it in (although I would not bet on its accuracy). Then, after a brief review of sound waves (and the promise of another lab tomorrow), Mr. Stencil went on Youtube to find a video of a wine glass breaking when the sound waves from an amplifier is in resonance with the natural waves (at least that's what I think they are) of the crystal/glass. We watched that, which was really cool, because the glass wobbled so much before it actually broke. Then we watched the video where a girl sang to break the wine glass (after many, many tries and many, many deep breaths). After that, we watched this video, which is by far the most amazing one of all of them.

During this time, I read two more chapters of Huck Finn (I needed to read ten by period 6), which was a rather huge accomplishment for me, because I had been watching all of the videos as well. I think my multi-tasking skill is improving. I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

After physics, I had my other post-AP math class, stat. We were watching a movie, 21 (the one where the MIT students count cards in casinos). It was an interesting movie, despite the few bits I managed pull out, because I read six more chapters of Huck Finn during that time as well. Their memorization skills are amazing. But I suppose they're MIT students (the leading guy was supposed to go to Harvard med school, but he didn't have enough money to afford it), so it's not that surprising.

I went to English having two chapter not finished, and the guy who sits next to me told me that I had missed a pop quiz on the reading yesterday. Angry guy and Mogley had also missed it (I never knew angry guy was in calc—I just knew he was in my stat class), so our teacher gave us the quiz, which was supposed to take only five minutes. Despite having skimmed most of the pages, read more than half of them while watching movies and videos, and not reading the last two chapters, I managed to answer with certainty all but two questions (they were multiple choice questions, which made it much easier). I guessed the last two, one of which was that (major spoilers, perhaps) Buck died. I remembered something along the lines of Buck dying back from the first time I read the story (three years ago, I think), and afterwards, I learned that it was right. Yay for super long-term memory!

So what did I learn today? In US I learned (somewhat) that our judicial system is still pretty flawed (why can't the prosecution appeal? That makes no sense at all, at least not to me), but it's been much better than before (when all the jury were white and male). And in health, we learned birth control methods. Did you know that you leave something like NuvaRing in your vagina for 21 days, take it out for 7, then put it back in for another 21?

Yeah. I've learned a lot today.

(Also, after school, as I was walking over to my bus, I saw Owen standing there, looking back at who knows what. Then he went back towards the front entrance, and I got on my bus. Later on, as I sat in the front row, I saw him and Dino getting on the bus next to mine together. So much for Owen driving.)

*Mission: Ignore Dino.

The Long-Awaited Math Team Runoffs

Gretchen and I were the first ones in the classroom yesterday. I was really surprised that Dino did not make it here earlier than Gretchen, but then I remembered that he had health now, instead of gym, so he would not be able to get out of class earlier and climb up three flights of stairs before the last bell rang, as he must have done prior.

Melissa came here as well, and said, "I was thinking about not coming, but I had been mean to Owen lately, so he made me come here instead of him."

This Owen-goading was apparently something she and Irving shared with great interest.

Micro also came, although he said that he would be on the team regardless. He did say that he did the practice problems, because he didn't want to get all zeros.

We then heard Kathrya and Genie outside, so Gretchie and I went outside as well. Somewhere here (along the line of time), Tea also shouted out from some random place (I didn't hear her, but Gretchie did), and Dino walked past us as well.

So that was basically the attendance for the last runoff of the year. Irving also came sometime later, as well as Mario and his Princeton sweater.

We started soon afterwards, with Gretchie, Tea, and I (and Dino and Micro, I presume) each taking our 1-2-3/4 rounds. Round one was a miserable existence. There were plenty of mental addition/subtraction math, which I am most horrible at, and, judging by the scores, everyone is also rather horrible at. Round two was okay, but not that much better. Round three (for those who took it) was fair, but I tended to make weird mistakes, and yesterday was one of those days. Round four was surprisingly easy for some reason, although I suppose having known calculus was the only reason why I even knew how to solve the last question (although the concept was mentioned in precalc, and Argon told me today that he also got it right with deductive reasoning).

Dino chose not to do a fourth round, and Irving and Mario only did two rounds each (Mario had taken another round earlier). Melissa disappeared some very long time ago. So by the end of the fourth round, only Gretchie, Micro, Tea and I were left. I went over to the table with the scored rounds to see what I got, and saw that Argon (who had taken the rounds earlier during his semi-free) had gotten the same number of points in rounds one to three, except his round one and two points were the reverse of mine. Dino also had gotten the same score in rounds one and two as us. Micro nearly got a perfect in round three, so he had the highest round three score out of all of us, but he rather miserably failed the first two rounds, thus prompting Gretchie and I to later speculate what would happen if Irving and Bryant (he, along with Tybalt, was also not at the runoffs due to track practice) did the "easiest" rounds one and two instead of their five and six, which right now only they and Mario and Tybalt can do.

Anyway, later yesterday night, while I was writing my English essay, Tea told me on Google chat to "go on Facebook and tell Dino that I do not carry messages" (along with her numerous lines of "Ginny? GINNY? Fine, be that way" that somehow made itself into a separate chat log). I asked her why, and she said something about the runoffs.

Before I had even finished typing "Dino, Tea asked me to tell you that—" Dino asked, "How did you do on the runoffs?"

Strange. He had never cared how I did before, but since we had already established that he was a strange boy, I indulged him and told him my scores. He responded with a single-word response of "nice."

The next day (which is really just today), Tea said that Dino told her that he had gotten a total score of fourteen. Which was absolutely ridiculous, because even though I did not remember how well he did on round four, he had gotten the same as me on the first two rounds, and my total (round four replacing round three) score did not even reach fourteen, despite having gotten a perfect in round four.

(The fact that his supposed score is one point higher than mine is also very suspicious.)

Oh, Dino and his lies.

So, Tea asked me why I like Dino. This piece below was written yesterday, but the theme fits, and I hope it will serve as a sort of explanation.


If I could have one dream and never wake up, please make this a dream, because then it would be all too real and I would not lose a thing, not the happy memories not the tragic moments not the laughter not the pain not one bit not anything.


I am reconsidering what Ritchell means to me. I cannot help it, I am a writer, and I look for the metaphor everywhere I go, and everything I do. I had once thought that if I made everything into an allegory of something else, I would be able to figure out why the good things come and go, and why the bad things always linger in the background.

Likewise, Ritchell became part of my goal to create the ultimate symbol, the epic that would have a real-life meaning that I could comprehend and then pass on. I made a mental list of all of his qualities, some from my memories, some from my imagination, but most from this world that was out of my control. This was the world Fate created and Allison Saint-Cross tried to destroy, and so Ritchell was just as contradicted, just as hard to understand, just as lost.

Ritchell was a combination of the real and the unreal, but to call him anything less than real would be unfair, just as it would be to call him anything less than surreal. I could tell anyone on the street the tangible traits Ritchell possessed, and receive some blank stares along with some hints of recognition. Just as well, I could say, there exists such a person, and describe Ritchell until he could not be any more clear in my head, and no one would have ever heard of him, even if I never bring up his name.

I see traces of Ritchell everywhere, everywhere I go, but he is never quite there.

I thought I had seen Ritchell just the other day, that chilly November. He was standing by the tallest oak tree in the park, and he had those eyes that I instantly knew belonged to Ritchell. I walked over to him, introduced myself, and asked for his name.

"Matt," he said, and that was the end of that. He had Ritchell's voice, and his composure. He was Matt Ritchell, then, I concluded. Names meant nothing anyway, unless you were Allison Saint-Cross, but even then, names meant much less than the ones bearing the names.

We stood in the park, sharing memories as if we had experienced them together and were merely trying to help the other recall the little details, like the fresh basil sprinkled onto the bowls of tomato soup served at the county fair, or the slightly purple-blue flower hanging onto its stem in the middle of December, amidst a blanket of snow. He was my Ritchell, if Ritchell were ever mine to begin with, and I grew confident with every song we sang those wintry months.

But Nephria had a legend as ancient as the walls of its buildings and as enduring as the air and roads and the blood spilt on those roads. It was known as Prescott's curse, and it came every winter with the snow and left every spring when the snow disappeared. If there had to be one reason why Allison Saint-Cross could try to destroy this world and still be honored as a hero, it would be because of Prescott's curse, and it would be because although Fate had no sympathy, Allison was only imperfect.

So April came, with its rainy solemnity and childish stubbornness, and April went, and summer came and summer went, and I thought I saw Ritchell again, many times, but when I looked again he was gone, and I had many times wondered if he had struck a deal with Chronos and could transport himself through time and space as easily as the apathetic redhead could.

Come November again, I met Avery Kanswell, who said he knew Ritchell, knew him by heart, knew everything there was to know about him. I asked him, were we talking about the same Ritchell? And Kanswell replied, "There may be many people called Ritchell, but there is only one Ritchell. You and I both know that."

I nodded, not because I thought he was right, but because I knew this would be the best explanation I would ever have as to why Ritchell could transcend the laws of Fate that even Allison could only envy to achieve. I asked Kanswell if he knew where Ritchell was, and Kanswell said I should know, if only I tried hard enough. I told him I saw Ritchell everywhere, but that did not help me very much, because just as he was everywhere, at the same time, he was nowhere.

And then I saw Ritchell. He had Ritchell's eyes, he had Ritchell's composure, he had Ritchell's air of presence. I wanted to say something to him, but just as I could see him everywhere and know that he was there and not there at the same time, I could see him here and not be able to make him hear a single word I said.

I stood from afar, observing my masterpiece evolve, sure to encompass the symbolism I knew was in his very state of being. I had groaned when I read other writers' papers, with their confusing microcosms and stories within stories that I could not understand, but now I pursued my metaphor with the same vigor, because this would be the one. This would be the classic, the one that would hold true throughout time, the one constant that could transgress every rule and limitation that made all of us keep faith in Fate but still yearn to believe in Allison.

Then one day, I woke up from my reveries and really saw Ritchell, and I realized that I had always been comparing Ritchell to that spectrum between Fate and Allison, and trying my hardest to ensure that Ritchell was perfect, because he was the closest I had to someone as intangible as Fate. But Ritchell was imperfect, just like Allison, just like Prescott, just like Chronos, just like everyone else. It was because Ritchell was imperfect that he could transcend time and space, because he could be everywhere at once, because everywhere was just like him, because everywhere had his essence and state of being. He was, in part, the perfect metaphor I had been searching for, but in part, he was not, because everyone else could just as well be that metaphor and play the role just as well, just as wholeheartedly, just as outstandingly, breathtakingly, tragic.

Ritchell was not the metaphor; he was only a part of this world that was so alike and so different that everything could be a metaphor for everything and describe the situation so fittingly yet be nonconforming enough to not resemble the original.

Ritchell was a metaphor for the dreams and broken memories and feathered hopes and everything else that resided in this world that Fate had created and that Allison had not yet destroyed, and those things were metaphors for Ritchell and everything he said and did and believed.

And somewhere amidst this revelation, I realized that Ritchell was both the fleeting good and the lingering bad, the very mystery I had been trying to unravel. He was not an explanation. He was simply another example of what I had observed a long time ago, and he presented the truth in such a obscured, juxtaposed way that I had no choice but to face it and ignore that cowardice that had accompanied me ever since I had first begun on this journey.

I'm not perfect, but I keep on trying, 'cause that's what I said I would do from the start.

"80, that's definitely a solid B." (Math Adventures—Part IV)

Continued from last time, where we had just finished round one and were going on to round two, but since this has been drawn out for so, so long, I will effectively condense round two and round three (during which Mario and Tybalt tried to find what room Argon and I were in, but failed because they didn't turn around and see me), and this latest edition will begin as Argon, Micro, Dino and I were all back in the cafeteria (basically after round four, so Mario and Tybalt have gone off to do round five).

"How are we doing now?"

"Round two was brutal. We got six points—Treeburg got twenty."

"There's no way Treeburg got twenty points," Dino said, standing up to go over to the score-projector. We followed him and confirmed this sad reality, and then came back to our table again.

"So, there goes 159," Micro said.

"159?" Dino asked, feigning confusion (I was pretty sure he was feigning, because he went on to ask "confusedly" what 162 was, when he was the person who first brought it up).

"Hey, Micro," I said. "Take 162 and multiply it by 0.8 on your calculator."

Micro punched in some numbers and said, "129.6."

"Okay, that's our new goal. 130."

"Why?" Argon asked. "What's 130?"

"That will give us a solid B."

"That's not a solid B," Dino said. "That's a low B."

"80 is definitely a solid B. In the grand scheme of grade-keeping, it doesn't matter what's added to the B at the end."

"Whatever." Dino chose to go back to explaining cos x as a Taylor polynomial to Argon, then added the two together to form the Taylor polynomial of e. After some fiddling and manipulation of numbers, he circles the final result—a degenerate Euler's formula, without the one or zero.

"Whatever," Dino said again as I pointed out his lack of zeros.

"I get how you derived it," Argo said, "but I don't understand how you can take something to the i power. I mean, what does that mean? How do you do it?"

"Well," Dino said. "It just is. You don't ask 'how.'"

Skimming over more trivial events (Micro, Argon, and I testing out more suspicious gelatin-marshmallow candy flavors, Mario claiming that we may still have a chance against Treeburg after seeing their dismal round four scores, and Bryant wondering if he should sneak in a TI-89—not allowed, but unlikely that the proctors would see the difference between that and a TI-84, which is allowed—for the team round questions), this final installment of Math Adventures sees us about to hear who the winners for the state match are. Half the schools (those who figured they would never make top three anyway) had already left, but of course we were not concerned about them. All we cared about was whether we had defeated Treeburg or not.

"And now, in second place for the large schools—"

"If we win," Dino said, "I am going to scream."

"—Paperclip High School!"

Well, so much for hearing him scream. Since the next part(s) is boring, I shall fast forward it. Basically people got their trophies (if any), got on the bus, made lots of noise, Ms. Sherbert asked "all the Paperclip kids to count off and see if everyone's here," to which Mario responded, rather immediately despite his poor view in the back, that yes, we were all here, and then we got back to school. As you can probably see, I have kind of forgotten all the details.

Nevertheless. There is math team tomorrow. The adventures continue!

(UPDATE: Our team made it to the top twelve in the Moody's challenge! YAY! We get a scholarship prize of $1500, which I have no idea how it's going to be even given to us, but nonetheless, top twelve! That is so amazing. As a side note, I am surprised that the Mario-Irving-Owen-Tybalt-Bryant team did not do as well as ours (although they made honorable mention), seeing as their paper seemed much more mathematically based, and ours lacked a conclusion. Perhaps we were so amazing that they overlooked those minor details.

Or so I'd like to believe.)

Because We Believe In Equality

This was started yesterday. Anything that mentions "this morning" or "today" means April 1st.

First of all, this post is entirely dedicated to evening out the huge discrepancy in the assignment of labels (or "libellés," as my Blogger page now displays, because I just recently converted it into French as part of an ongoing project to have everything I use be explained in French). Therefore, this page is dedicated to talking about those people who I have mentioned more than once or twice (since those that I only mention once or so I probably won't really talk about anyway, although I might) but have definitely mentioned less than ten times (effectively weeding out those two whom I shall not mention).

So, after scanning my alphabetized label list, these are the people I will blog about today (if this is necessary again, there will be a repeat of this post to some extent) in alphabetical order:

• Camel
• Dora
• Gretchen
• Irving
• Joss
• Mario
• Melissa
• Mogley
• Mrs. James
• Mrs. MacDonald
• Nyx
• Owen
• Reese
• Stella
• Tamir
• Tea
• Tybalt
• Vincent
• Zephy

That's it, really. Any more, and Blogger won't let me label them due to the "maximum 20 labels at a time" rule. Anyway. The tidbits about these people that happened since the last time I talked about them, or whenever, really.

Camel: I think he has a jacket complex as well (first thing that popped into my mind, since nothing really interesting happened in chem today—except Mr. Coffee's friend jumping from the roof into a pool thirty feet below or crawling into a crypt and scaring people for fun). In fact, now that I think of it, a lot of the guys I know seem to have a favorite jacket that they will wear all day week long. Camel has this dark blue jacket, which is not particularly ugly (although I may not be the best judge for fashion), but after seeing it for several months in a row (maybe with the occasional AC/DC shirt in between), I may have permanently associated him with his jacket.

(He is also on my bus, and I have seen him wearing that jacket ever since before I even really knew him, so this may be another reason why.)

(Dino, whom I shall not tag because there is no space anymore, and Jack, not tagged for similar reasons, both also have a jacket they almost always wears. Argon has his sleeping-bag-like thing he carries around with him, although with the warmer weather he has now acquired a new, navy colored jacket which is a tad bit too big for him, but he'll probably grow into it. This morning, at gym, we were standing together and he commented on how he might finally be taller than me, as he always had a notion that he was shorter. We later decided it may have been because of the shoes—his heels were significantly taller, as I had been wearing really, really flat shoes.)

(And I thought this was supposed to be about Camel? Anyway. Next.)

Dora: This is also rather unrelated to Dora, but she was sitting at the table and so this story will be filed under her name. This morning, before class started, Dora and Tierra were already seated at a table in the library. I joined them, and Gretchen (who is below, I know, but there will be another story for her) and Kathrya and Tybalt (wow, this story has a lot of people in it) came as well. Kathrya commented on how her friends were more mature, because "they didn't start singing wedding songs."

Later on, Dino walked in to the library (why does everything have to always include him?), and someone said, "He walks strangely." This was met with a chorus of agreements, and Kathrya's remark, "Now where is Ginny?" before realizing that I was standing right next to her.

(I need to stop making Dino appear in this. The whole point of this was so he wouldn't be mentioned as often compared to the others.)

(I also saw Dora in English today, but we watched a movie—"Death of a Salesman"—so we didn't get to talk to each other.)

Gretchen: I don't know why Gretchen's never broken ten labels. This will probably change with the Chile trips (I'm still working on Easter Island—I really am!), but in the meantime, I will insert a link here to her blog. I'm not certain that my blog sees more traffic than hers, but in the minute event it does, we can pool them just like pooling standard deviations in a difference of means test. Except in this case, Gretch's sample size may be larger than mine, so pooled variances may not be the best bet.

Irving: I must say, I haven't seen Irving around today. Strange. Usually, I see him sauntering down the hallway (well, he doesn't really do that, but he does walk differently in a way), going to a class that's in the opposite direction of mine. Perhaps our constant existence on the third floor is a reason why I see him so much. So instead of a personal recount, I will broadcast the (probably by now commonly known) news that he got into Harvard. Wow. Well, I mean, he deserves it and everything, but that's still very, very amazing.

(Yeah. That's about it. No wonder he isn't tagged so much.)

Joss: Let's see. Joss believes that the secret to teleporting is to throw a smoke bomb and then run really, really fast. He also still needs to pay Reese (or do something else, but I'm not sure what) so Reese can teach me grammar, so I can teach him how to draw clothes. Although, if you ask me, I doubt my pictures of clothes are correct all of the time. I just add folds randomly (or in obvious places). I also don't know how well this whole exchange thing will go. Too many unknown variables, I suppose.

Mario: I don't see Mario that much lately, or maybe I still do but I no longer respond to his appearance. Well, anyway, I saw him during lunch today, along with Tea and Bryant and Boris. He seemed rather preoccupied with his SAT vocab book. Which reminds me, I should probably also study my vocab, if I wish to avoid the same fate as Bryant's. Or just cram Latin roots. Those always help.

Melissa: I didn't see Melissa today—away at a college thing or something, I believe. I still need to get a cupcake recipe from her as well. This may also be the shortest one yet, because I have not talked to Melissa in such a long time. She doesn't really go to math team anymore. Maybe that's why.

Mogley: He is weird. One of the weird guys I know (and by far not the weirdest) but definitely weird. He was attempting yet another 6x6 sudoku in English today. I asked him if he ever tried the 9x9 one (because honestly, 6x6 isn't really sudoku; it's like diluted HCl—isn't quite the same as the original), and he said that he had tried one today, but messed up. Compared to Mogley, Matt is a sudoku whiz. (The extraordinary amount of time Matt devotes to sudoku every day may be the reason though. If this keeps up, I'll begin to fail stat.)

(Also, as compensation for his horrible sudoku skills, Mogley said that he was getting better at the Jumble questions. I guess you can't have everything.)

Mrs. James: I walked into calc today just as Mrs. James said, "I really want a Snapple!" I have no idea how this whole Snapple thing started (which also reminds me of the xkcd strip on the tin apple—I'm reading too much xkcd, it's definitely not good for me).

Jay then said, "I have a Snapple in my bag."

"Really?" Mrs. James asked, all excited.

"Nope, April Fools!"

(This went on for several minutes, in which many people in the class took turns saying they had a Snapple in their bag—Scott said he had over 100 of them at home—and then saying, "April Fools!" Mrs. James retaliated by telling Jay, "Oh, I'm going to give you an A+ for the quarter—wait, April Fools!")

Mrs. MacDonald: Is conducting an experiment on the number of texts people send and receive in an average class period. It's due to begin next week, and will last an entire week. Statistically speaking (although I knew before I ever took stat), if texting in class is so prevalent, I (and Matt) will definitely be outliers. My phone doesn't allow text messages. Matt's too preoccupied by his crosswords and sudokus and Jumbles and word finds to care about texting (he also has an iPhone, which may deter texting as he can't physically touch the keys on his phone to know which letters he's typing if he placed the phone in his pocket or something).

Nyx: Said that her phone's autotexting dictionary does not have the word "zombie." This prompted Camel to say, "What if there was a zombie invasion, and only you knew about it? You have to text people, but then you'd have to type 'zombie' out, and by that time the zombie might have already attacked you!" Also, her phone doesn't have "haha" as a word either. (Tybalt should be glad he doesn't have this phone. He would be seriously crippled in his texting abilities.)

(This also reminds me, Scott is now called "Texty-Pants" in our calc class, because he tried to text under the table, and, when caught by Mrs. James, attempted to deny it.)

Owen: Will be receiving his alpaca soon. Alpacas, according to my research yesterday, likes being in groups of two or more, and around six to eight alpacas can live on one acre of land. I hope Owen's backyard is large enough, because he needs to keep at least two alpacas to ensure that his alpaca doesn't die of loneliness, and so he needs at least 1/4 of an acre of land set aside for this special, special friend (and its girlfriend, but the girlfriend would be much more expensive).

Reese: I have yet to see his shiny new laptop. Among other things, but this is the first that pops up. (Camel supposedly made Reese's old laptop crash via remote accessing, so that's why Reese needed a new one.) I've been promised that this new one is every bit as shiny as the last, except perhaps not red anymore and not the one that underwent SSSC's brutal conditions.

Stella: Is probably on another bout of "I-hate-school-ism." I haven't asked yet, but the past few times I've talked with her, she has complained about the, to quote her words, "the stupid people." She is really the opposite of many people I know. I mean, most people, regardless of what they say, at least care a little about their grades and their futures. Stella just doesn't care anymore.

We talked about our futures for some brief moment before, mostly with me asking her what she would do after high school. She didn't want to talk about it, and I agree with that sentiment. I don't know what I want to with my life after high school. I mean, I obviously want to go to a good college, but why? And which one? Whatever college I go to—that's my future path there. If I go to McGill (which is probably very likely at this point), that means I'll most likely be focusing on pre-med. If I go to UBC or, although very unlikely, Penn, I would be going down the path of economics. If I go to Waterloo (yeah right, I'll be crushed by all the crazy Canadian math geeks, since that's the school for math and science oriented people in Canada) or Cornell (again, unlikely, especially with their financial aid situation), it's probably engineering. And then there are the schools we consider mostly for their prestige—Harvard, Yale, and the rest of the Ivies along with a few other schools. Are they really that much better? We (not including me, because the probability of me getting in those places is very, very, extremely, very slim—statistically speaking), as some of the brightest among our peers, do everything we can in order to get into one of these schools, conforming to their ideals of what is a "perfect" student, just so we can bear the honor of having gone to such a school and gain the privilege of acquiring a good-paying job and the respect of others.

(God, maybe I should just go get a job to paint the Golden Gate Bridge like I've always said I should.)

(Well, there are also the good points, like learning new things with teachers who really know what they're talking about—granted I understand them.)

Tamir: I don't know why I have mentioned him so often. Really. We barely talk. Let's see. I saw Tamir in physics today, and he complained about the magnetism unit. Or maybe that was Alec. Then I saw him in English, but he didn't talk because we were watching a movie.

Yeah, boring. Next.

Tea: I also can't believe I have not talked about Tea very often in my blog. I think it's mostly because everything I know about Tea, she pretty much blog about it anyway. Well, I will insert a link here to promote her blog instead, although I'll bet she doesn't need any promotion from me because her faithful followers are much more numerous than mine. Just in case I have a lurker though.

(Also, as a note to Tea: your "about" page doesn't link to an actual about page. Mine doesn't either—all I've managed to set up was the "contact" part. I think I half started an "about me" page and then forgot about it.)

Tybalt: Just a general question out there (to those who know about it)—does Tybalt know of my, uh, hopefully-will-be-affiliation with Dino? (Once again, Dino is EVERYWHERE. I think I'm getting obsessed.) Otherwise, I have not seen him since this morning with Kathrya, and since Kathrya's story has already been told in Dora's place, I won't repeat it again.

(In his place, I will talk about Bryant, who was barely eliminated because he has exactly ten labels. Today, as I handed in my chem test corrections, I saw Bryant's "test corrections," namely his name, the title, and nothing else on it. Later on, he said that receiving a 3/3 on those test corrections actually brought his grade down. Ugh. He kind of makes me jealous sometimes.)

Vincent: I think I've pretty much covered everything about him before. I don't remember if I've seen him today. Maybe I have.

UPDATE: (from Facebook, my constant source of information) Apparently Vincent's family is moving out of state? He's currently asking if he can board at someone's house for nine months. I seriously doubt this will happen (although you never know), but I do hope he can stay. Who else will I be able to discuss plans for travelling to alternate universes via thousands of giant lasers with?

(There is always Dino—ugh, him again!—but I think he would probably even prefer owning his own alpaca over talking about lasers.)

Zephy: We went Easter egg-hunting today! Zephy's a natural at these things, as she found four or five eggs in the library alone, in under ten minutes. I have no idea why there were eggs everywhere (someone in my calc class said she knew who put them there, but wouldn't tell us). Also, this reminds me, I still need to give her back her chocolate egg, because I was carrying it in my plastic egg container since she had too much candy to fit inside hers. I was supposed to give it back, but I completely forgot about it until after we said goodbye when we got off the bus. Huh. I suppose chocolate won't go stale anytime soon.

(Hmm...)

Actually, considering how long this thing is, I probably will not ever do this again. At least not with so many people. I'll just talk about Dino and Argon less. Maybe.