Five minutes from the heavily anticipated announcement of whether we will have an early dismissal or not, Mr. Littney, who had earlier asked us to discuss all of the books we had read for class thus far, asked, "What would Gregor from Metamorphosis say if he knew that a snow day was coming up?"
We stared at him for a while, not quite understanding his question.
"I think he wouldn't even notice," Mr. Littney went on to say. "I think he would be so entrenched in his routine that he wouldn't even notice there was snow. What about Return of the Soldier?"
"Chris would probably be staring out at the snow and reminiscing some wonderful moment with Margaret," someone said.
For Brave New World, Sonny said, "I think there wouldn't be any snow. They would just make it go away." Some else said, "People couldn't have snowball fights unless they used complicated machinery that increased consumption."
For Hamlet, Cammie said, "Hamlet would probably be the superintendent, trying to decide whether we should have an early dismissal or not." And Mr. Littney added, "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to have an early dismissal or to suffer until 2:15."
And for Aura, Mr. Littney said, "You look outside at the snow, and it is not snow anymore!" "And cats are burning on the trees," someone else added.
Oh, English.
(At the beginning of class, we had a one-minute discussion of the snow, which included Mr. Littney saying, "This is AP, get nothing and expect even less," in response to the collective groan when he pulled up the blinds so we could better stare at the tantalizing snow falling outside.)
. . .
We had our early dismissal, after all. I came home realizing that if we had not had an early dismissal, I would have had to explain multiple incomplete homeworks. And it wasn't that I had banked on the possibility of a snow day—I went to bed fully prepared to plot out my day according to the plan that there would be a full day of school.
There is lethargy in the air. Scatter-brained.
My back hurts. I thought it was because I sleep in shriveled-up positions, but now that I think about it, perhaps it is more because I had been leaning against unforgiving edges for a prolonged time yesterday. I am not the flexible girl I used to be, the one who could raise her feet to almost behind her head. That was years ago. This is now. This is painful.
I am tired, I am sleepy, and it is but a week since our last break. I slept a ridiculous amount during break, extended, 12+ hours. Sometimes 18. Sometimes more.
Sometimes I want to sleep even more, but it is now painful to lie down on my back, so sleep will, once again, be elusive.
. . .
My dad is talking about one of my cousins, who dated a boy in high school throughout college. The boy went to a better school. My parents often said that was the reason they broke up right at the end of college.
The cousin got a job half a country away, in a factory, and there, she met her future husband. Who cheated on her. She got a divorce and moved back home.
And in China, a divorce is still a huge deal. It is reputation-destroying. You won't ever be the same anymore.
At home, she found someone else, a man with a child.
Which is somehow even worse. These are some values I cannot, cannot agree with. But they are reality. I am not in accord with reality.
My dad does not approve of this relationship (neither does my grandmother, for that matter). He thinks it won't work out. Ever the optimist, he is. He will, most likely, have little say in this matter, but he has a lot of say in other matters closer to home.
. . .
The days are long, and the nights longer. Long Day's Journey into Night. I think I make up for my lack of TV-knowledge with a good deal of literary references. I am not sure if that is any better. If one is inherently better than the other, or if it is merely a change in perspectives and roots.
Showing posts with label Mr. Littney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr. Littney. Show all posts
Friday, January 7, 2011
Friday, December 10, 2010
Not Enough Time
I am falling apart at the seams, save me, save me please?
I thought you said you didn’t need saving. Said you could save yourself.
That was before. This is now.
You’re not desperate enough.
[There are some dreams that cannot be salvaged. Because they never existed.]
The steps to 30 Reading Street was covered in filmy moss. When Katie climbed them she almost slipped, but years of subway-riding training gave her the quick reflexes to steady herself and keep on going.
“Careful there,” Nick said. He held out his hand, hovered behind her back.
“Don’t worry about me,” Katie said. “I’m fine.”
She reached over and pressed the doorbell. No sound came from inside, and Katie wondered if she should press it again, or knock on the door. Would it be too rude? She stared at her reflection in the glass.
Perfectly groomed hair. Make-up applied so seamlessly they were dreamy. A neat cardigan over a navy cotton dress and ballerina flats. Her appearance was so youthful and carefree she thought she could almost mask the haunted look in her eyes.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open. Amanda’s weary eyes replaced Katie’s from behind the glass.
“What do you want?” They both said at the same time.
“Am I that predictable?” Amanda asked, a half-smile on her face.
Katie returned it with more optimism than she thought she had. “It is partly my fault. I usually only call on you when I need something.”
“Well then. How are you?”
“Good, good. How are you? How is Nick?”
“He is good,” Amanda and Nick said at the same time. Except this time, Amanda did not react. Katie shot him a dark look before turning back to Amanda.
“I am glad to hear that. You are good too?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Yes, I am.”
They stood a while like that, in silence. Katie remotely remembered why she never called upon Amanda. She pulled up a smile again and said, “Want to go get coffee with me some afternoon? I have a really flexible schedule now, and I get most afternoons off.”
“You don’t have a schedule anymore,” Nick said. “You don’t even work anymore.”
Amanda said, “That sounds nice. I am free Wednesday afternoons, and Nick does not get home until late. It is nearing dinner-time today, so maybe next Wednesday?”
“Yes, that would be great,” Katie said. “Absolutely lovely.” Absolutely fucking lovely, but she managed to cut off the curse. Nick should be proud.
The conversation fell into another lull. This time, Amanda smiled. “No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings,” Katie said.
None at all.
“Yes, no hard feelings,” Nick said, and laughed. That dry, hacking laugh. “Wish her a happy marriage. I dare you.”
“I hope you will be happy with Nick,” Katie said. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. “I was afraid—well, forgive me, but with your history with Nick, I was afraid that you might be upset at the news.”
“No, not at all. I am happy for you.”
“Well, thank you again. I hope you will come to the ceremony? I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, but Jessie really wanted—”
“That is not a problem,” Katie said. “I would hate to be so responsible anyway.”
“But the ceremony?”
“Yes, I will. I have to go now, but next Wednesday at Miguel’s café?”
“Of course.”
“Good bye.”
“Good bye.”
The door closed, and Katie was left with her reflection again. The hair still unruffled. The make-up pristine. Her outfit as cheerful and preppy as before. Her eyes just as hollow, but she was glad Amanda was not too perceptive.
Katie went down the steps, taking care not to slip on the moss again. She asked, “Why didn’t you clean this place up?”
“Not my problem,” Nick said. “Amanda can do it if she wanted.”
“She is your fiancée.”
“She is.”
“So what if she slips and falls? What if she gets hurt? You still won’t do it?”
“You were pretty gutsy back there,” Nick said. “I thought you wouldn’t have said it.”
“Don’t change the topic,” Katie said.
“I’m—”
A sky-blue car pulled up in the driveway in front of her. The door opened, and Nick stepped out. He just stood there, staring at Katie, and she could see something in his eyes that she often saw in her own.
“Hey, Nick,” she said.
“Katie,” Nick said. His voice did not have that sardonic tone anymore. It was more subdued, with an edge in it that made Katie’s throat contract. “What are you doing here?”
“I was visiting Amanda. She is my friend, you know.”
Nick cringed, and Katie knew what he was thinking. That drunken night she had called Amanda on a dare, the night she had introduced Nick to her. Because “you don’t have any decent friends,” as Nick had said.
“Yes, she is your friend,” Nick said. “I would have never known that.”
“I had forgotten that,” Nick said. “How are you then?”
“Good. Good enough,” Katie said. “How are you?”
“Good,” Nick said.
“Good,” Nick said.
One with contempt. One with hesitance.
“Amanda invited me to your wedding,” Katie said. “I hope everything goes well. Don’t drink too much—I don’t think she would be happy to wait by the toilet for you to finish throwing up.”
“Thank you.” The other Nick did not say anything.
“You’re welcome.”
All civil. Not a single go to hell, or fuck you. They had grown up, after all. Katie scoffed. If this was what growing up meant, she knew why all the grownups she had known as a child were always so stuck up.
Being grown up meant there were some things you wanted so desperately to say, but never said out loud.
Like, “If I had not called Amanda that night, what would have happened?”
Katied wondered. But she knew the answer already. Had she not called Amanda, Nick would be marrying some other girl. Katie herself would still be on barely-speaking terms with him. They would still find each other in this state, perhaps not at his house, but maybe a coffee place or a supermarket.
Still this awkward. Still hating each other.
And Katie would still hear Nick’s voice wherever she went.
. . .
This is all over the place, I admit. I had other things in mind when I was writing this (Nick was supposed to be perceptive and realize that something was wrong with Katie, for example), but it got long and I knew if I didn't finish this today I will never get to finish it, so I cut it off.
This is a much less morbid version of the other Nick, Katie, and Amanda story I had in mind. That one involves a funeral, and in some ways links to this one, so if I do get to fix it up I'll post it as well.
. . .
I was deferred to Penn. Surprisingly, I am not distraught, nor am I that upset. I think I wanted to get in somewhere early so I could just get it over with, but I am not entirely bought on the whole Penn thing. Maybe I was just persuading myself because I had already said I would do it and I hate to go back on my words.
I still love Penn.
But maybe it's not the one.
What does the one look like? I don't know. But MIT's as good a start as any. And yes, I know it's probably not the one either. But to be honest, I don't think I have to go to any one school, nor do I know what I would want for the next four years right now. In this regard, at least, I agree with Mario.
. . .
In English, someone was going to get cough drops from the nurse's office, and Sergio asked for one as well. Then someone else asked for some tissues.
Mr. Littney then said, "Get Dino a sucker pop as well."
We watched the last scene in Hamlet today. Where [spoiler alert] everyone important dies from poison (or, in Laertes's case, also from falling off a balcony, and, in Claudius's case, also from being squished by a chandelier). And Fortinbras marches his troops into the castle only to find everyone dead on the ground.
What a happy sight.
Apparently Aristotle's view of a tragedy is that after reading (or watching) one, we should have learned something about ourselves from it. So what have I learned? (Except for, as Mr. Littney pointed out, "the inability to shut up gives one longer life," as evidenced by Hamlet having being stabbed with poison first but dying last.)
I would say it's my inability to act. My indecision. My ease of just talking things over and not putting them into action. I am like Hamlet in that aspect. And I am missing out on many opportunities, and I am pushing myself off track with each minute I wait.
I can't decide.
I wrote about that in my EOQR as well, and my portfolio. Of course, in my portfolio, I said I learned how to decide, but I don't think I really did. I still don't have what it takes to stick to one decision and its consequences.
Just like colleges.
Just like Nick.
But that would be linking too many things together into one.
I thought you said you didn’t need saving. Said you could save yourself.
That was before. This is now.
You’re not desperate enough.
[There are some dreams that cannot be salvaged. Because they never existed.]
The steps to 30 Reading Street was covered in filmy moss. When Katie climbed them she almost slipped, but years of subway-riding training gave her the quick reflexes to steady herself and keep on going.
“Careful there,” Nick said. He held out his hand, hovered behind her back.
“Don’t worry about me,” Katie said. “I’m fine.”
She reached over and pressed the doorbell. No sound came from inside, and Katie wondered if she should press it again, or knock on the door. Would it be too rude? She stared at her reflection in the glass.
Perfectly groomed hair. Make-up applied so seamlessly they were dreamy. A neat cardigan over a navy cotton dress and ballerina flats. Her appearance was so youthful and carefree she thought she could almost mask the haunted look in her eyes.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open. Amanda’s weary eyes replaced Katie’s from behind the glass.
“What do you want?” They both said at the same time.
“Am I that predictable?” Amanda asked, a half-smile on her face.
Katie returned it with more optimism than she thought she had. “It is partly my fault. I usually only call on you when I need something.”
“Well then. How are you?”
“Good, good. How are you? How is Nick?”
“He is good,” Amanda and Nick said at the same time. Except this time, Amanda did not react. Katie shot him a dark look before turning back to Amanda.
“I am glad to hear that. You are good too?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Yes, I am.”
They stood a while like that, in silence. Katie remotely remembered why she never called upon Amanda. She pulled up a smile again and said, “Want to go get coffee with me some afternoon? I have a really flexible schedule now, and I get most afternoons off.”
“You don’t have a schedule anymore,” Nick said. “You don’t even work anymore.”
Amanda said, “That sounds nice. I am free Wednesday afternoons, and Nick does not get home until late. It is nearing dinner-time today, so maybe next Wednesday?”
“Yes, that would be great,” Katie said. “Absolutely lovely.” Absolutely fucking lovely, but she managed to cut off the curse. Nick should be proud.
The conversation fell into another lull. This time, Amanda smiled. “No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings,” Katie said.
None at all.
“Yes, no hard feelings,” Nick said, and laughed. That dry, hacking laugh. “Wish her a happy marriage. I dare you.”
“I hope you will be happy with Nick,” Katie said. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. “I was afraid—well, forgive me, but with your history with Nick, I was afraid that you might be upset at the news.”
“No, not at all. I am happy for you.”
“Well, thank you again. I hope you will come to the ceremony? I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, but Jessie really wanted—”
“That is not a problem,” Katie said. “I would hate to be so responsible anyway.”
“But the ceremony?”
“Yes, I will. I have to go now, but next Wednesday at Miguel’s café?”
“Of course.”
“Good bye.”
“Good bye.”
The door closed, and Katie was left with her reflection again. The hair still unruffled. The make-up pristine. Her outfit as cheerful and preppy as before. Her eyes just as hollow, but she was glad Amanda was not too perceptive.
Katie went down the steps, taking care not to slip on the moss again. She asked, “Why didn’t you clean this place up?”
“Not my problem,” Nick said. “Amanda can do it if she wanted.”
“She is your fiancée.”
“She is.”
“So what if she slips and falls? What if she gets hurt? You still won’t do it?”
“You were pretty gutsy back there,” Nick said. “I thought you wouldn’t have said it.”
“Don’t change the topic,” Katie said.
“I’m—”
A sky-blue car pulled up in the driveway in front of her. The door opened, and Nick stepped out. He just stood there, staring at Katie, and she could see something in his eyes that she often saw in her own.
“Hey, Nick,” she said.
“Katie,” Nick said. His voice did not have that sardonic tone anymore. It was more subdued, with an edge in it that made Katie’s throat contract. “What are you doing here?”
“I was visiting Amanda. She is my friend, you know.”
Nick cringed, and Katie knew what he was thinking. That drunken night she had called Amanda on a dare, the night she had introduced Nick to her. Because “you don’t have any decent friends,” as Nick had said.
“Yes, she is your friend,” Nick said. “I would have never known that.”
“I had forgotten that,” Nick said. “How are you then?”
“Good. Good enough,” Katie said. “How are you?”
“Good,” Nick said.
“Good,” Nick said.
One with contempt. One with hesitance.
“Amanda invited me to your wedding,” Katie said. “I hope everything goes well. Don’t drink too much—I don’t think she would be happy to wait by the toilet for you to finish throwing up.”
“Thank you.” The other Nick did not say anything.
“You’re welcome.”
All civil. Not a single go to hell, or fuck you. They had grown up, after all. Katie scoffed. If this was what growing up meant, she knew why all the grownups she had known as a child were always so stuck up.
Being grown up meant there were some things you wanted so desperately to say, but never said out loud.
Like, “If I had not called Amanda that night, what would have happened?”
Katied wondered. But she knew the answer already. Had she not called Amanda, Nick would be marrying some other girl. Katie herself would still be on barely-speaking terms with him. They would still find each other in this state, perhaps not at his house, but maybe a coffee place or a supermarket.
Still this awkward. Still hating each other.
And Katie would still hear Nick’s voice wherever she went.
. . .
This is all over the place, I admit. I had other things in mind when I was writing this (Nick was supposed to be perceptive and realize that something was wrong with Katie, for example), but it got long and I knew if I didn't finish this today I will never get to finish it, so I cut it off.
This is a much less morbid version of the other Nick, Katie, and Amanda story I had in mind. That one involves a funeral, and in some ways links to this one, so if I do get to fix it up I'll post it as well.
. . .
I was deferred to Penn. Surprisingly, I am not distraught, nor am I that upset. I think I wanted to get in somewhere early so I could just get it over with, but I am not entirely bought on the whole Penn thing. Maybe I was just persuading myself because I had already said I would do it and I hate to go back on my words.
I still love Penn.
But maybe it's not the one.
What does the one look like? I don't know. But MIT's as good a start as any. And yes, I know it's probably not the one either. But to be honest, I don't think I have to go to any one school, nor do I know what I would want for the next four years right now. In this regard, at least, I agree with Mario.
. . .
In English, someone was going to get cough drops from the nurse's office, and Sergio asked for one as well. Then someone else asked for some tissues.
Mr. Littney then said, "Get Dino a sucker pop as well."
We watched the last scene in Hamlet today. Where [spoiler alert] everyone important dies from poison (or, in Laertes's case, also from falling off a balcony, and, in Claudius's case, also from being squished by a chandelier). And Fortinbras marches his troops into the castle only to find everyone dead on the ground.
What a happy sight.
Apparently Aristotle's view of a tragedy is that after reading (or watching) one, we should have learned something about ourselves from it. So what have I learned? (Except for, as Mr. Littney pointed out, "the inability to shut up gives one longer life," as evidenced by Hamlet having being stabbed with poison first but dying last.)
I would say it's my inability to act. My indecision. My ease of just talking things over and not putting them into action. I am like Hamlet in that aspect. And I am missing out on many opportunities, and I am pushing myself off track with each minute I wait.
I can't decide.
I wrote about that in my EOQR as well, and my portfolio. Of course, in my portfolio, I said I learned how to decide, but I don't think I really did. I still don't have what it takes to stick to one decision and its consequences.
Just like colleges.
Just like Nick.
But that would be linking too many things together into one.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Hi, My Name Is Awkwardsauce
My new favorite sound is "uuuuuggghhhhhhhhh." I like to say it until I run out of air and all that's left is a clicky sound that escapes from my throat (before I turn blue and gasp for oxygen).
But first things first. In English today, we were reading the next part of Hamlet, when we came upon this line by Hamlet, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." After much analysis, Mr. Littney said, "When you guys go off to college, you'll meet these kids who have never been outside their home state before, and you can say to them, 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,' and they will hate you even more."
I don't know how he says these things with a straight face.
Also, the movie makes the ghost's appearance so weird, awkward, and freaky all at the same time. And the blood oozing out of the king's ear? I'm beginning to think this is an R-rated movie.
Oh, and, Cammie had fabulous purple shoes today. I love all of her shoes, although I have to admit I loved the sequined one better. It made the floor sparkle.
I would like to expand further on the title of this post, but that would involve revealing secrets I am probably not at liberty to say, so just trust me on this one. I am extremely awkward. And did I mention I am awful at maintaining my balance? Absolutely awful.
But I am pretty good at alliterations.
That is good.
I also now have a functional scanner, so I am able to scan in my art and possibly post them on here, instead of relying on my utexas-trained mouse-drawing skills. I mean, you can only get so far if your main objects of practice are free-body diagrams.
So maybe you'll get to see picture-logs of stuff that happens in my day soon. Maybe. Maaaybe.
But first things first. In English today, we were reading the next part of Hamlet, when we came upon this line by Hamlet, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." After much analysis, Mr. Littney said, "When you guys go off to college, you'll meet these kids who have never been outside their home state before, and you can say to them, 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,' and they will hate you even more."
I don't know how he says these things with a straight face.
Also, the movie makes the ghost's appearance so weird, awkward, and freaky all at the same time. And the blood oozing out of the king's ear? I'm beginning to think this is an R-rated movie.
Oh, and, Cammie had fabulous purple shoes today. I love all of her shoes, although I have to admit I loved the sequined one better. It made the floor sparkle.
I would like to expand further on the title of this post, but that would involve revealing secrets I am probably not at liberty to say, so just trust me on this one. I am extremely awkward. And did I mention I am awful at maintaining my balance? Absolutely awful.
But I am pretty good at alliterations.
That is good.
I also now have a functional scanner, so I am able to scan in my art and possibly post them on here, instead of relying on my utexas-trained mouse-drawing skills. I mean, you can only get so far if your main objects of practice are free-body diagrams.
So maybe you'll get to see picture-logs of stuff that happens in my day soon. Maybe. Maaaybe.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Obviously, It's The Mustache
This is why Ophelia loves Hamlet so much, even though she knows Hamlet, as the prince of Denmark, will most likely marry one of his cousins instead of a "commoner" like her (she can be an aristocrat to some extent, though, as her father serves the King).
Because Hamlet has such a hot mustache.
At least that was the reason Mr. Littney gave us, as we were watching our version of Hamlet today (it's apparently the best DVD version that adheres to the text, although I am not sure which version it is except that the guy who plays Hamlet also plays Iago in the version of Othello that I watched last year).
I have to say, the whole premise of Hamlet requires a lot of willingness to accept otherwise rather ridiculous events. It does make the play rather humorous, and maybe Shakespeare was aiming for that, but honestly I would never believe it if someone told me, "Hey, that ghost won't talk to me, but he'll probably talk to the other guy."
Also, I saw way too many sex scenes from the movie for my comfort. Way too many.
I still love my English class. We had bagels yesterday, thanks to the wonderful efforts of Tabby and someone else (I forgot who). Food is always good, especially in the mornings, and especially bagels.
Plus, talking about whether Gertrude is an idiot or a whore is always fascinating (I think that she would have had no choice in the matter of her marriage, especially if she wanted to stay alive, although it can be argued that if she hated her situation she could have gotten Hamlet to just kill the king, so I don't know).
I would love to talk about my English class all day, but I did promise I will be productive, so I shall have to go back to work.
Because Hamlet has such a hot mustache.
At least that was the reason Mr. Littney gave us, as we were watching our version of Hamlet today (it's apparently the best DVD version that adheres to the text, although I am not sure which version it is except that the guy who plays Hamlet also plays Iago in the version of Othello that I watched last year).
I have to say, the whole premise of Hamlet requires a lot of willingness to accept otherwise rather ridiculous events. It does make the play rather humorous, and maybe Shakespeare was aiming for that, but honestly I would never believe it if someone told me, "Hey, that ghost won't talk to me, but he'll probably talk to the other guy."
Also, I saw way too many sex scenes from the movie for my comfort. Way too many.
I still love my English class. We had bagels yesterday, thanks to the wonderful efforts of Tabby and someone else (I forgot who). Food is always good, especially in the mornings, and especially bagels.
Plus, talking about whether Gertrude is an idiot or a whore is always fascinating (I think that she would have had no choice in the matter of her marriage, especially if she wanted to stay alive, although it can be argued that if she hated her situation she could have gotten Hamlet to just kill the king, so I don't know).
I would love to talk about my English class all day, but I did promise I will be productive, so I shall have to go back to work.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Chill, Duuuuuude
When I walked into my English class today, I was the only one in the room except for Mr. Littney (well, okay, Mario walked in a couple seconds later). Mr. Littney was writing something on the board, which I made out to be our latest in-class "assignment," which was to write about our experiences with listening to our audio books.
At the bottom, Mr. Littney wrote, "Low stress, 10 points." Along with something else that I don't remember, but most likely along the same lines.
Eventually, people started trickling in and started reading the assignment on the board. Or more precisely, they all chose to read the second part rather than the first, which was the actual assignment.
Then, Sergio started laughing. Confused, I turned to look at the board, and saw that Mr. Littney had added this line:
"Except for Dino. He should be stressed."
The rest of the day was less interesting, save for perhaps Kathrya's eyebrow-wiggling (and Julie's response), or the ten minutes or so I spent with Cheshire today (I spent a good part of my time trying to think about what I could say and now I have a topic + there is something with me and talking about social studies related subjects lately).
Minor issues with today:
My ankle hurts. Still. Actually, I think it's getting worse, but maybe that is just my impression. At any rate, I am glad I did not wear my high heel boots today. That would have been even more painful.
Also, I need to do something about the awkwardly inopportune situation situations. Or just walk faster. Either way should work.
And, my Chicago interview tomorrow! To be fair, I don't really care about Chicago (not as much as some other schools, i.e. Penn), but it is still an interview and I hope everything will turn out great. Hopefully.
So all in all, not that many issues. It could have been much worse.
. . .
Still no story update today. Will it help if I link Beauty and the Beast instead?
At the bottom, Mr. Littney wrote, "Low stress, 10 points." Along with something else that I don't remember, but most likely along the same lines.
Eventually, people started trickling in and started reading the assignment on the board. Or more precisely, they all chose to read the second part rather than the first, which was the actual assignment.
Then, Sergio started laughing. Confused, I turned to look at the board, and saw that Mr. Littney had added this line:
"Except for Dino. He should be stressed."
The rest of the day was less interesting, save for perhaps Kathrya's eyebrow-wiggling (and Julie's response), or the ten minutes or so I spent with Cheshire today (I spent a good part of my time trying to think about what I could say and now I have a topic + there is something with me and talking about social studies related subjects lately).
Minor issues with today:
My ankle hurts. Still. Actually, I think it's getting worse, but maybe that is just my impression. At any rate, I am glad I did not wear my high heel boots today. That would have been even more painful.
Also, I need to do something about the awkwardly inopportune situation situations. Or just walk faster. Either way should work.
And, my Chicago interview tomorrow! To be fair, I don't really care about Chicago (not as much as some other schools, i.e. Penn), but it is still an interview and I hope everything will turn out great. Hopefully.
So all in all, not that many issues. It could have been much worse.
. . .
Still no story update today. Will it help if I link Beauty and the Beast instead?
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.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Matters of the Heart
My faithful readers, I have a confession to make. I don't know how my heart works (okay, this is very obvious, I admit). I am also an awkwardness magnet, or, as Faith from Sparknotes said, "full of awkwardsauce." In more practical terms, I (and this is a rather open admission to a sea of who-knows-who Internet readers—I mean, who are you, really, Java reader? I'd like to know) happen to not really like any guy who seems to like me.
This, of course, is problematic. And I, of course, have no solution whatsoever.
So I don't know why I'm writing this, except to basically put this out there and get it over with.
Anyway, today was really nice. I learned another month of calculus in one day, some more basic chem, and discussed our (Cammie and my) discovery that the "Welcome Home, Our Sophie Mol" play is remarkably similar to the musical the twins went to see (they both started out happy, happened because of Sophie Mol, had something tragic happen in-between, and never truly ended). Well, we had also tried really hard not to say, "It's interesting that..." whenever we're talking about something interesting, and that didn't really work (Mr. Littney also happened to write "interesting" on Cammie's poem thesis). And, of course, multi was really fun and, as always, too short. After multi, I saw Argon (who just had calc), and he asked me, "When is the pace of the class the fastest?" To which I replied, "All the time." I guess I should have added "before May 5th," or whatever the new AP day is, but I think he got the general idea.
I think I can conclude that I like Fridays. Thursdays too, those are nice. And so are Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. And, well, I'm sure Mondays are fantastic too. And I don't know if there's a day in the week I don't like anymore, and that is a little unnerving but I guess it can't be bad.
Also, I have less homework this year than I did last year (so far), so I've been spending lots of time reading random things, such as this NYT article that makes me think my habit of procrastinating (and therefore studying in various corners of the school) is actually more productive than I thought it would be. Who would've guessed?
This, of course, is problematic. And I, of course, have no solution whatsoever.
So I don't know why I'm writing this, except to basically put this out there and get it over with.
Anyway, today was really nice. I learned another month of calculus in one day, some more basic chem, and discussed our (Cammie and my) discovery that the "Welcome Home, Our Sophie Mol" play is remarkably similar to the musical the twins went to see (they both started out happy, happened because of Sophie Mol, had something tragic happen in-between, and never truly ended). Well, we had also tried really hard not to say, "It's interesting that..." whenever we're talking about something interesting, and that didn't really work (Mr. Littney also happened to write "interesting" on Cammie's poem thesis). And, of course, multi was really fun and, as always, too short. After multi, I saw Argon (who just had calc), and he asked me, "When is the pace of the class the fastest?" To which I replied, "All the time." I guess I should have added "before May 5th," or whatever the new AP day is, but I think he got the general idea.
I think I can conclude that I like Fridays. Thursdays too, those are nice. And so are Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. And, well, I'm sure Mondays are fantastic too. And I don't know if there's a day in the week I don't like anymore, and that is a little unnerving but I guess it can't be bad.
Also, I have less homework this year than I did last year (so far), so I've been spending lots of time reading random things, such as this NYT article that makes me think my habit of procrastinating (and therefore studying in various corners of the school) is actually more productive than I thought it would be. Who would've guessed?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Quand nous étions en classe d'anglais
Mario insisted on talking about math.
There are, of course, plenty of Mario stories I can tell from today's English class. In fact, being in Mario's English class may prove to be a unique experience altogether, but I digress. These stories start, obviously, with Mario's arrival into the classroom, fashionably late, with a cup of coffee in his hand.
Then, during self-introduction/name-a-book time, he said, "I really like the Redwall books. The mice books. It's about a lot of—rodents—and, uh, then there's the part where you get to read about rodents killing each other."
Or something to that effect. I forgot his exact words. I think everyone was busy laughing at him, anyway.
After the introduction round, Mr. Littney tried to recite everyone's name. He came to Mario and couldn't remember his name. Mario replied, "It's a plain vanilla name," which obviously helped. Then, Mr. Littney confused Mario with Lyle, which I am not sure how that happened, but luckily Lyle had arrived late with a pink note, so Mr. Littney just referred to the note.
During discussion time, we were talking about the Aciman article, and Archie said he felt cheated because the author eventually revealed that not all that he write about (even supposedly non-fiction and memoirs) is real. Mario sprung into a detailed discussion that can, to the best of my ability, be broken down into the following points:
This soliloquy took around 5-10 minutes, and English class promptly ended soon afterwards. I would have gladly reminded him of real/imaginary/complex numbers in a Cartesian plane to further his analogy, but I'm not sure Mr. Littney could have stood any more Mario-talk for at least half an hour (if not more). He even started to half-interrupt near the end of Mario's soliloquy.
At lunch, I saw Argon (and I finally returned his number theory notes), Gretchen, Yuma (well, okay, so we had a free together), Tea, Nyx, and numerous other people (I remember Kathrya, but not who else was there). Yuma and I played a game of go, in which I lost miserably, and then Yuma played Nyx, in which she also lost miserably. Andthere really isn't any purpose to bringing these people up, I suppose, except to promote equality among the number-count it was a great day, complex multi problem included. Lovely day.
There are, of course, plenty of Mario stories I can tell from today's English class. In fact, being in Mario's English class may prove to be a unique experience altogether, but I digress. These stories start, obviously, with Mario's arrival into the classroom, fashionably late, with a cup of coffee in his hand.
Then, during self-introduction/name-a-book time, he said, "I really like the Redwall books. The mice books. It's about a lot of—rodents—and, uh, then there's the part where you get to read about rodents killing each other."
Or something to that effect. I forgot his exact words. I think everyone was busy laughing at him, anyway.
After the introduction round, Mr. Littney tried to recite everyone's name. He came to Mario and couldn't remember his name. Mario replied, "It's a plain vanilla name," which obviously helped. Then, Mr. Littney confused Mario with Lyle, which I am not sure how that happened, but luckily Lyle had arrived late with a pink note, so Mr. Littney just referred to the note.
During discussion time, we were talking about the Aciman article, and Archie said he felt cheated because the author eventually revealed that not all that he write about (even supposedly non-fiction and memoirs) is real. Mario sprung into a detailed discussion that can, to the best of my ability, be broken down into the following points:
- people fit into templates
- different people think in different ways
- these different ways can be described as a 3D space, where the real is on a line, and the not-so-real is on some plane
- of course, this 3D space is only an analogy, and analogies don't really work all the time
This soliloquy took around 5-10 minutes, and English class promptly ended soon afterwards. I would have gladly reminded him of real/imaginary/complex numbers in a Cartesian plane to further his analogy, but I'm not sure Mr. Littney could have stood any more Mario-talk for at least half an hour (if not more). He even started to half-interrupt near the end of Mario's soliloquy.
At lunch, I saw Argon (and I finally returned his number theory notes), Gretchen, Yuma (well, okay, so we had a free together), Tea, Nyx, and numerous other people (I remember Kathrya, but not who else was there). Yuma and I played a game of go, in which I lost miserably, and then Yuma played Nyx, in which she also lost miserably. And
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A New Beginning
I think this was the title to one of my blog posts. Not this one, of course, but one of my WordPress blogs, or something similar, back when I was still a careless blogger and my blogs had fewer than four posts in total.
So. First day of school. Semantics, really (as compared to syntax, which requires more careful thought, but I think comparing school to linguistic terms would probably draw plenty of blank eyes). A lot of "this is what we're going to teach you," and a lot more of "this is what we expect from you." I have four syllabi (which is not a word, according to Blogger spellcheck) already, all pretty much useless because I will never, ever refer to them, ever.
And even if I did, I would do so online, not flip through several sheets of paper. But that is another story.
My French class went well (as well as it can go when I was only there for the last 15 minutes), and so did physics, which is right next door to my French classroom. I saw Dino as I went in, and he said, "Ginny," to which I responded, "Bonjour," because I was still in a French mindset (plus I was kind of shocked he was talking to me—he usually doesn't do that unless necessary). Nyx is across the hall from me (during French, that is), and so we both have very short distances to travel when going to physics, but alas that won't happen anymore because periods 1 and 7 have switched. Pity. (At least we can still walk together from multi on Thursdays.)
All of my other classes were also pretty good as well. Lots of people I know for most of my classes (I don't know about biology or middle east yet), and Yuma is in my free for the entire year! So I guess even with the not-so-good arena time, all of my classes are splendid, and I am so excited about the rest of the year. Especially because I don't have lab lunches anymore. I love regular lunches.
On the other spectrum (the one oft talked about and most dreaded), I talked with Mrs. MacDonald today, and we'll have to be talking soon about teacher recs. That means I have to hunt down Mrs. Tallchief as well, unless I want to ask someone else (I'm still not sure yet). Fun. Not really.
Well, at least I finished most of my homework (I still have to read and annotate the Aciman article for English—or at least I think it's that article, I didn't really hear Mr. Littney that clearly), and all my binders are (so far) organized, which is a good start.
I'll hope for the best.
So. First day of school. Semantics, really (as compared to syntax, which requires more careful thought, but I think comparing school to linguistic terms would probably draw plenty of blank eyes). A lot of "this is what we're going to teach you," and a lot more of "this is what we expect from you." I have four syllabi (which is not a word, according to Blogger spellcheck) already, all pretty much useless because I will never, ever refer to them, ever.
And even if I did, I would do so online, not flip through several sheets of paper. But that is another story.
My French class went well (as well as it can go when I was only there for the last 15 minutes), and so did physics, which is right next door to my French classroom. I saw Dino as I went in, and he said, "Ginny," to which I responded, "Bonjour," because I was still in a French mindset (plus I was kind of shocked he was talking to me—he usually doesn't do that unless necessary). Nyx is across the hall from me (during French, that is), and so we both have very short distances to travel when going to physics, but alas that won't happen anymore because periods 1 and 7 have switched. Pity. (At least we can still walk together from multi on Thursdays.)
All of my other classes were also pretty good as well. Lots of people I know for most of my classes (I don't know about biology or middle east yet), and Yuma is in my free for the entire year! So I guess even with the not-so-good arena time, all of my classes are splendid, and I am so excited about the rest of the year. Especially because I don't have lab lunches anymore. I love regular lunches.
On the other spectrum (the one oft talked about and most dreaded), I talked with Mrs. MacDonald today, and we'll have to be talking soon about teacher recs. That means I have to hunt down Mrs. Tallchief as well, unless I want to ask someone else (I'm still not sure yet). Fun. Not really.
Well, at least I finished most of my homework (I still have to read and annotate the Aciman article for English—or at least I think it's that article, I didn't really hear Mr. Littney that clearly), and all my binders are (so far) organized, which is a good start.
I'll hope for the best.
