Outside, it is snowing.
There is not much more for me to say. I have wanted a lot and hoped a lot and wished for many, many things, and in the end they were, once again, not mine to begin with. I have horrible doubts now, and yet I wish for them to stay, because without doubts there will be truth, and I do not know if I can take the truth.
I have, once again, forgotten to heed my own advice. I have gone beyond where I should have gone, and have suffered as a result. There is not much left to say, except that I should have known this, and thus, I have no one to blame but myself. I alone could have prevented this. And yet I failed.
I once said to Tea that I wasn't sure about this. I told Yuma that this, whatever it was, was not to stay because I was incapable of it. Yet I still went along. I lost myself halfway and here I am, trying to piece myself together. It is always easier to lose yourself, because there are two people to do it, but much harder to find yourself again, because there is only one person left for that.
This ending is much like the previous one, and so I know how it will go. I know how I will respond and how everything will evolve because despite all these years I have not learned anything in this aspect. I know each obsessive move I will take, and how much they will hurt me in return, and yet I can't stop them. They are ingrained in my heart.
Perhaps this limbo feeling will last for another year. Perhaps shorter, perhaps longer. And then I will see how foolish I have been all along, and perhaps then it will finally end.
All of this has been a horrible, horrible dream. And yet, at the end, I don't want to wake up from it. I will drag the sleep and snooze as long as I can, I will because I always have, because I hate to be the last one. I hate to be left alone.
There were many things I wish I could have said in person, but alas, this end is much like the previous one, and even my method of saying goodbye is the same, because there is no other way. I am the one left behind, this time and the last, and something in me tells me I should not do this anymore. All of this trust, it hurts more in the end, and when the labyrinth is broken I must build it back up again, stone by stone.
But dwelling on the pain will make it hurt even more. Perhaps it is time again to say goodbye to another world, another place that is no longer mine. At least the memories will be kept pristine. And in a few years I will forget the pain and only remember the good, and I will be happy. I will. For a short time, at least, because happiness and love, they are not mine to have, and like Roscuro with his light, they are things I will never truly have.
The snow is still falling. The first snow of the year. I stare at his gray dot and know he will never come back. It is not in people's natures to do so, not for me, at least. I wish I could have said many, many things, and I wish I could have done so much more, but in the end they have all come back to haunt me.
At least the snow is constant.
One year ago, I should have known better. I should have said no from the very beginning.
But now, I do. And perhaps next time, I will know enough to do so.
Showing posts with label Tea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tea. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Some Old Things In Drafts
"I know there's something in the wake of your smile, I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yeah."—Listen to Your Heart, Roxette
Molly Lambert has an interesting way of writing. She starts out with something ordinary, like telephone lines against a sunset, and expands it into something seemingly unrelated, like Hamlet, and then wraps it up with a post title and a link title that are completely different. And the pictures too. They make every post something special, something worth reading (it helps too that the pictures break up the dense text).
I wanted to clear out my drafts because the number of total posts was misleading (some of them will probably never, ever see the light of day) and also because I reread this the other day and remembered Molly. She is something special. She has since left "This Recording," but she was the reason I read through all of those wordy posts even though I knew I had assignments of my own due the next day.
There are days I wish I could write like her. But that takes skill. That takes discipline, tremendous amounts of it. And with my brain addled with lack of sleep and the instantaneous skimming I have acquired by reading through my collection of food blogs, I don't have that quite yet.
It is the difference between the good writers and the great writers, although I am not either yet, and perhaps at this rate never will be.
I still remember this particular post. Telephone lines breaking up the sky. Some sort of strange irony that they are not at odds but instead harmonious. I stared at two pigeons today in the middle of campus, watched them squeeze under the wrought-iron fence, their heads bobbing. I did not know pigeons bobbed their heads before "Pooch Café." Even though I must have seen a hundred pigeons before, if not more.
What else have I never known?
Yuma asked me today if I had read Tea's latest blog post, and of course I have. I am subscribed to her in my RSS feed, I cannot escape it. He said it reminded him of me. What were his exact words? Something about being angsty, and it not being the point that I refuted him with the concrete fact that I was not hurt.
But he is more often right than I am. Yesterday a boy in my English class (for engineers) walked with me to my next classroom, and told me he was going to go to the engineering library. He had taken the long way by walking with me, but he said the shortcut was closed. Yuma said he was "hitting on me," but he has been saying that about almost every boy I have talked with. Is he really right, or is he being insecure?
We are reading The Tale of Despereaux right now. Or rather, Yuma is reading it to me, chapter by chapter, on nights when we can both fulfill our promises. We are on the chapter where Despereaux's mother says, "Adieu." It is a sad chapter. There are more sad chapters following it.
I told him, "When we get to the happily ever after we will be able to live happily ever after as well."
His answer was, "We'll see." It is his answer for the future, for our future. He is living it day by day, that is his way of coping. I am living it by focusing on the end. That is my way of coping.
I told Nyx today that I might be visiting Beavertown during my Thanksgiving, and that if I do I would like to see her before I go back. She asked, "Are you going to see Yuma?"
And then said, "I heard you guys broke it off."
Have we?
Yuma introduced me last night to his going-to-forbidden-places-and-physics buddy as "my ex." He signed off one of his chats to me today as "my lovely." Maybe this is his double life, his way of separating what he feels and what he wants to feel. But I am assuming now. I am taking a literary book off the shelf and remarking on its symbolism without going inside the head of the author.
When he read my blog the other night Yuma said, "I always get nervous when you write about me. I don't know what you are going to say."
Maybe that is part of the problem. There is a part of me I do not speak of, a part I only write of. No matter how much we talk and how much he asks me, he will never know my true impression of him. Sometimes I do not know either. The words come out and they are just right, they hint at something I otherwise would never have guessed. Or they are not right, and I erase them, and try again and again.
One of my other drafts was about an airport terminal. Maybe I will post it some day when I have the chance. It is silly now, because I have fulfilled my flying dream, I have seen the vast blue sky at an altitude above the meanest rain cloud.
Here is an excerpt of it, of one of the very last paragraphs I wrote before I got distracted by something else:
I have not been imagining things for a very long time now. It is because of content—when I am happy, I tend not to want to escape through my mind. At least I thought I was happy. In many ways, I am. I love being able to lean back and knowing that someone will catch me before I fall. I love skipping down the halls and not being alone. I have had one too many solitary hopscotch games.
But there is a part of me that is the loner in the rain, the one who is perfectly happy to be cold and drenched and with no one else to reach out with a hand. The one who can watch snow drift for hours and be at peace, because there is not a soul to take this away. Not a soul to break the news of reality.
It is silly to mention this now. Yuma says there are boys here who will make me happy. Who I can cuddle with and not feel lonely. I always stop listening before he goes on.
Tea said I should only chase after him if I am absolutely, 100% dedicated. And I see why now. It is extremely frustrating to reach out every time and be rebuffed, to want to be upset but knowing it would only weaken my stance. On the bright side I will probably be much better at sales pitches by the end of this.
I am all out of milk now, although not yet out of cereal. I was going to buy milk this morning, or maybe Tuesday morning, but when you go to bed in the not-so-early morning you wake up in the almost-not-morning morning. And other things happen. Like today I went to a roundtable discussion with several other engineers from other years and with some company reps from this oil and gas company, and they have all been mentioning internships and Jessica and I are left with wondering what we should do.
"My GPA will be so good this semester," Jessica said. "I am going to get straight As because the classes are so easy."
I am going to get straight As too, or at least I have to, or else I will not have the 3.7 GPA I need to keep my scholarship. It is a scary proposition, but I have heard it is do-able. At least for this semester, which means I will at least have the money for next semester, and maybe I can live it out that way, or maybe I can just learn to the best I can and not worry about grades, because those things come naturally after learning.
And lots and lots of work. Which means lots and lots of time.
Yuma has repeatedly mentioned that I should just do the things I want to do and not worry about conforming to his schedule. But I cannot do that. Because if he is unwilling to compromise then the only way I will get to talk with him is by compromising myself. It is silly, it is hard, and it is taking its toll on my preferred bedtime.
I suppose that is inevitable.
Molly Lambert has an interesting way of writing. She starts out with something ordinary, like telephone lines against a sunset, and expands it into something seemingly unrelated, like Hamlet, and then wraps it up with a post title and a link title that are completely different. And the pictures too. They make every post something special, something worth reading (it helps too that the pictures break up the dense text).
I wanted to clear out my drafts because the number of total posts was misleading (some of them will probably never, ever see the light of day) and also because I reread this the other day and remembered Molly. She is something special. She has since left "This Recording," but she was the reason I read through all of those wordy posts even though I knew I had assignments of my own due the next day.
There are days I wish I could write like her. But that takes skill. That takes discipline, tremendous amounts of it. And with my brain addled with lack of sleep and the instantaneous skimming I have acquired by reading through my collection of food blogs, I don't have that quite yet.
It is the difference between the good writers and the great writers, although I am not either yet, and perhaps at this rate never will be.
I still remember this particular post. Telephone lines breaking up the sky. Some sort of strange irony that they are not at odds but instead harmonious. I stared at two pigeons today in the middle of campus, watched them squeeze under the wrought-iron fence, their heads bobbing. I did not know pigeons bobbed their heads before "Pooch Café." Even though I must have seen a hundred pigeons before, if not more.
What else have I never known?
Yuma asked me today if I had read Tea's latest blog post, and of course I have. I am subscribed to her in my RSS feed, I cannot escape it. He said it reminded him of me. What were his exact words? Something about being angsty, and it not being the point that I refuted him with the concrete fact that I was not hurt.
But he is more often right than I am. Yesterday a boy in my English class (for engineers) walked with me to my next classroom, and told me he was going to go to the engineering library. He had taken the long way by walking with me, but he said the shortcut was closed. Yuma said he was "hitting on me," but he has been saying that about almost every boy I have talked with. Is he really right, or is he being insecure?
We are reading The Tale of Despereaux right now. Or rather, Yuma is reading it to me, chapter by chapter, on nights when we can both fulfill our promises. We are on the chapter where Despereaux's mother says, "Adieu." It is a sad chapter. There are more sad chapters following it.
I told him, "When we get to the happily ever after we will be able to live happily ever after as well."
His answer was, "We'll see." It is his answer for the future, for our future. He is living it day by day, that is his way of coping. I am living it by focusing on the end. That is my way of coping.
I told Nyx today that I might be visiting Beavertown during my Thanksgiving, and that if I do I would like to see her before I go back. She asked, "Are you going to see Yuma?"
And then said, "I heard you guys broke it off."
Have we?
Yuma introduced me last night to his going-to-forbidden-places-and-physics buddy as "my ex." He signed off one of his chats to me today as "my lovely." Maybe this is his double life, his way of separating what he feels and what he wants to feel. But I am assuming now. I am taking a literary book off the shelf and remarking on its symbolism without going inside the head of the author.
When he read my blog the other night Yuma said, "I always get nervous when you write about me. I don't know what you are going to say."
Maybe that is part of the problem. There is a part of me I do not speak of, a part I only write of. No matter how much we talk and how much he asks me, he will never know my true impression of him. Sometimes I do not know either. The words come out and they are just right, they hint at something I otherwise would never have guessed. Or they are not right, and I erase them, and try again and again.
One of my other drafts was about an airport terminal. Maybe I will post it some day when I have the chance. It is silly now, because I have fulfilled my flying dream, I have seen the vast blue sky at an altitude above the meanest rain cloud.
Here is an excerpt of it, of one of the very last paragraphs I wrote before I got distracted by something else:
I have not been imagining things for a very long time now. It is because of content—when I am happy, I tend not to want to escape through my mind. At least I thought I was happy. In many ways, I am. I love being able to lean back and knowing that someone will catch me before I fall. I love skipping down the halls and not being alone. I have had one too many solitary hopscotch games.
But there is a part of me that is the loner in the rain, the one who is perfectly happy to be cold and drenched and with no one else to reach out with a hand. The one who can watch snow drift for hours and be at peace, because there is not a soul to take this away. Not a soul to break the news of reality.
It is silly to mention this now. Yuma says there are boys here who will make me happy. Who I can cuddle with and not feel lonely. I always stop listening before he goes on.
Tea said I should only chase after him if I am absolutely, 100% dedicated. And I see why now. It is extremely frustrating to reach out every time and be rebuffed, to want to be upset but knowing it would only weaken my stance. On the bright side I will probably be much better at sales pitches by the end of this.
I am all out of milk now, although not yet out of cereal. I was going to buy milk this morning, or maybe Tuesday morning, but when you go to bed in the not-so-early morning you wake up in the almost-not-morning morning. And other things happen. Like today I went to a roundtable discussion with several other engineers from other years and with some company reps from this oil and gas company, and they have all been mentioning internships and Jessica and I are left with wondering what we should do.
"My GPA will be so good this semester," Jessica said. "I am going to get straight As because the classes are so easy."
I am going to get straight As too, or at least I have to, or else I will not have the 3.7 GPA I need to keep my scholarship. It is a scary proposition, but I have heard it is do-able. At least for this semester, which means I will at least have the money for next semester, and maybe I can live it out that way, or maybe I can just learn to the best I can and not worry about grades, because those things come naturally after learning.
And lots and lots of work. Which means lots and lots of time.
Yuma has repeatedly mentioned that I should just do the things I want to do and not worry about conforming to his schedule. But I cannot do that. Because if he is unwilling to compromise then the only way I will get to talk with him is by compromising myself. It is silly, it is hard, and it is taking its toll on my preferred bedtime.
I suppose that is inevitable.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
On the Hill
There must have been a few months since I've last blogged.
I don't remember the exact date, although if I were less lazy I could search it up right now. I do remember why though. I stopped blogging because it just didn't feel right anymore, because I spilled my heart into this blog and suddenly there were things I could not say anymore because I could not let Yuma, who read my blog religiously, see those thoughts.
That is the problem with making your blog known to people you know personally. I had thought of starting other blogs on other sites, but they were too much of a hassle, too difficult to remember and too annoying to upkeep. College applications were coming up, papers to write, things to do with my life, and I didn't really need a blog, did I? Lots of people live their lives perfectly fine without one.
I read a few of Tea's last posts and they were nice. I miss the days when we all blogged like that. Julie doesn't blog anymore either. Neither does Gretchen.
Maybe I just miss those days in general.
I don't know if anyone I know will actually read this anymore. That's alright with me. Actually, it's probably better. I am writing this in hopes that Yuma will never read it, not that this will hurt him in particular, not anymore. But I would rather gain some last control over what I think and who I tell that to.
. . .
Yuma said he would be back late, maybe two or three in the morning. I told him I would wait for him. It always frightens me when I wait for someone, because I don't know if they will actually show up or not. I don't think I have ever admitted it on this blog (although I may have, I don't remember now), but I am a periodically insecure person. Yuma would attest to that. I alternate between believe I can do anything and have everyone believe me, and simply pondering over why anyone would care to even look my way.
Lately I've been thinking that I have never deserved Yuma's love. He did love me absolutely, maybe not unconditionally, but as close as you can without sacrificing yourself unreasonably. I never figured out why. Was it the way I looked? (He does have a preference for Asian girls.) Was it my intelligence, at least in terms of math and science? Was it because I talked with him a lot?
What was it exactly?
I remember telling Tea, a few days before or after Yuma first kissed me, that I did not know if I should really pursue this relationship.
Tea said, "Whatever you do, don't go into a relationship then break up and tell him, 'I've never loved you in the first place.' That hurts a lot."
I wasn't ready back then. Ten months and a world of turmoil later, I know how unprepared I was for everything that was about to happen.
And I am losing him now. I am losing Yuma, and I am afraid again. I am afraid of promising him that I will wait for him for the net four years, even though that is the romantic thing to do, because I am afraid that even if I wait these years I will still lose him.
This time, he is the one who says, "I don't love you," and he has every right to say that. I don't even have the consolation of thinking, "Oh, he's just an idiot who's making a big mistake and I'll show him."
Because I am that idiot. I made the mistake.
I don't know how this will turn out. I want to have him back again, I want to live through all those dreams we said we would share together. I want things back to what they were once again, and I keep on thinking, "I never thought I would want to go back to my high school days again."
Because high school was hell for our relationship, but this, this is even worse.
. . .
On a more cheerful note, Fish Wings, which is what I am calling my college now, has been fine for me. I am taking five classes this year, one of which is only 1.5 hours a week and so is just half a class. I have made friends, both in my dorm and outside, and I have people to hang out with every day if I so chose.
I have been spending a lot of time in the architecture studio, because both Denise and Sam, two of my closer friends here, are in architecture. They have a very busy schedule, not just classes but actual studio work, so I drop by the studio when I'm free and just work there.
Kitty has also promised me that we would go shopping together once a week, although I might have to push off that until later because I still have lots of food in the fridge and no inclination to cook anything. Maybe I should buy more microwavable things though, to tide me over a few more nights.
I will probably be spending more time with Peter too, if he keeps on talking with me. I have already told Yuma and Tea and Reese and everyone I could possibly find who might be interested my freaky connection with Peter (we came from the same places), and considering I'll be joining Fish Wings' FSAE team, which he is also on, I'll probably be seeing him a lot and he'll be talking with me a lot.
And there are other people, like Jessica, who I am going to see a lot because she is in three of my classes. We will be working on our math history homework next Tuesday, and hopefully be as adept at figuring out problems as the ancient Egyptians and Babylonians were. And there is Ng, whose name I absolutely cannot say, and who is, in part, the reason for all of this. I do not know what to call him now.
. . .
Yuma is back now. He is acting like he is fine now, that he wasn't ever mad at me because of what I've done. I don't know if I should believe him—and I desperately do, I really want to believe all of this is real. But I don't have much evidence to place my hopes on. I did sort of blackmail him, using his words, by using my health. I suppose it is some evidence for his still caring about me, but love and forgiveness are very different things from caring, and although I really hope this is real and I do have all three of them now, I don't know.
I don't know if this is just his way of placating me. If he is actually thinking, "Why do I have to put up with this pathetic, crazy, useless girl?"
I have fallen a long way from grace. But I do know the only way to make this even remotely true is to believe in it. I am not worthy, I know that. But I'll believe that by some miracle, I will find my wings again.
I don't remember the exact date, although if I were less lazy I could search it up right now. I do remember why though. I stopped blogging because it just didn't feel right anymore, because I spilled my heart into this blog and suddenly there were things I could not say anymore because I could not let Yuma, who read my blog religiously, see those thoughts.
That is the problem with making your blog known to people you know personally. I had thought of starting other blogs on other sites, but they were too much of a hassle, too difficult to remember and too annoying to upkeep. College applications were coming up, papers to write, things to do with my life, and I didn't really need a blog, did I? Lots of people live their lives perfectly fine without one.
I read a few of Tea's last posts and they were nice. I miss the days when we all blogged like that. Julie doesn't blog anymore either. Neither does Gretchen.
Maybe I just miss those days in general.
I don't know if anyone I know will actually read this anymore. That's alright with me. Actually, it's probably better. I am writing this in hopes that Yuma will never read it, not that this will hurt him in particular, not anymore. But I would rather gain some last control over what I think and who I tell that to.
. . .
Yuma said he would be back late, maybe two or three in the morning. I told him I would wait for him. It always frightens me when I wait for someone, because I don't know if they will actually show up or not. I don't think I have ever admitted it on this blog (although I may have, I don't remember now), but I am a periodically insecure person. Yuma would attest to that. I alternate between believe I can do anything and have everyone believe me, and simply pondering over why anyone would care to even look my way.
Lately I've been thinking that I have never deserved Yuma's love. He did love me absolutely, maybe not unconditionally, but as close as you can without sacrificing yourself unreasonably. I never figured out why. Was it the way I looked? (He does have a preference for Asian girls.) Was it my intelligence, at least in terms of math and science? Was it because I talked with him a lot?
What was it exactly?
I remember telling Tea, a few days before or after Yuma first kissed me, that I did not know if I should really pursue this relationship.
Tea said, "Whatever you do, don't go into a relationship then break up and tell him, 'I've never loved you in the first place.' That hurts a lot."
I wasn't ready back then. Ten months and a world of turmoil later, I know how unprepared I was for everything that was about to happen.
And I am losing him now. I am losing Yuma, and I am afraid again. I am afraid of promising him that I will wait for him for the net four years, even though that is the romantic thing to do, because I am afraid that even if I wait these years I will still lose him.
This time, he is the one who says, "I don't love you," and he has every right to say that. I don't even have the consolation of thinking, "Oh, he's just an idiot who's making a big mistake and I'll show him."
Because I am that idiot. I made the mistake.
I don't know how this will turn out. I want to have him back again, I want to live through all those dreams we said we would share together. I want things back to what they were once again, and I keep on thinking, "I never thought I would want to go back to my high school days again."
Because high school was hell for our relationship, but this, this is even worse.
. . .
On a more cheerful note, Fish Wings, which is what I am calling my college now, has been fine for me. I am taking five classes this year, one of which is only 1.5 hours a week and so is just half a class. I have made friends, both in my dorm and outside, and I have people to hang out with every day if I so chose.
I have been spending a lot of time in the architecture studio, because both Denise and Sam, two of my closer friends here, are in architecture. They have a very busy schedule, not just classes but actual studio work, so I drop by the studio when I'm free and just work there.
Kitty has also promised me that we would go shopping together once a week, although I might have to push off that until later because I still have lots of food in the fridge and no inclination to cook anything. Maybe I should buy more microwavable things though, to tide me over a few more nights.
I will probably be spending more time with Peter too, if he keeps on talking with me. I have already told Yuma and Tea and Reese and everyone I could possibly find who might be interested my freaky connection with Peter (we came from the same places), and considering I'll be joining Fish Wings' FSAE team, which he is also on, I'll probably be seeing him a lot and he'll be talking with me a lot.
And there are other people, like Jessica, who I am going to see a lot because she is in three of my classes. We will be working on our math history homework next Tuesday, and hopefully be as adept at figuring out problems as the ancient Egyptians and Babylonians were. And there is Ng, whose name I absolutely cannot say, and who is, in part, the reason for all of this. I do not know what to call him now.
. . .
Yuma is back now. He is acting like he is fine now, that he wasn't ever mad at me because of what I've done. I don't know if I should believe him—and I desperately do, I really want to believe all of this is real. But I don't have much evidence to place my hopes on. I did sort of blackmail him, using his words, by using my health. I suppose it is some evidence for his still caring about me, but love and forgiveness are very different things from caring, and although I really hope this is real and I do have all three of them now, I don't know.
I don't know if this is just his way of placating me. If he is actually thinking, "Why do I have to put up with this pathetic, crazy, useless girl?"
I have fallen a long way from grace. But I do know the only way to make this even remotely true is to believe in it. I am not worthy, I know that. But I'll believe that by some miracle, I will find my wings again.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Fires and Gas Leaks
I am not sure which one it is (if it is any one of them), although I am leaning towards the latter. Mainly because nothing smelled burnt (I know the smell would also be there with the gas leak, but I am overlooking that part). Gretchen fretted over her notes for nothing, which, in the long run, is good because her notes are safe (for now).
But it was a small waste of a free-lunch-hour. Not that I did anything really productive anyway. I spent most of first lunch talking with Clay about Candide and museums, and then Yuma came along and we started to put up posters for the shoe collection NHS is hosting. But it was nearly second lunch by now, and since we were hungry, we just went down one hallway that was conveniently on the way to lunch and stapled posters on any bulletin board we could find, including the one in the music corner (also, thanks to Clay's height, we managed to staple a poster on the board above the doors when you're walking from the art wing to the music area).
We spent around fifteen minutes eating during second lunch (and also congregating with Tea, Gretchen, Dora, and Brunhilda) when the fire alarm went off. I was just done with my lunch (my lunch-eating speed has increased dramatically over the years, and I think it also applies to any-food-eating-speed as long as the food isn't too cold or hot), but unfortunately, I did not have my jacket with me, so it was a very cold wait outside. Offset slightly by the warmth Tea provided (that Bruney was not willing to take part in).
Five minutes into third lunch, we were allowed back in. Everyone else went back to their classes, and Yuma and I stayed behind for Clay to finish his lunch. Then, we circled another hallway and stapled some more posters along the way to the English/SS learning center.Completely out of convenience because there were lots of bulletin boards in that particular hallway.
The rest of the time was spent (for me, at least) reading some of the 40+ new updates from my 100+ blog subscriptions. And printing out an article for Middle East, which I should be reading and infecting with marginalia now, instead of typing this.
(P.S.: Before I go, I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that I have painted my nails three different colors, instead of two. I really like the shiny silver. Also, as I was walking down the hall to get my jacket, the girl who sits to the side behind Yuma in English—I don't know her name—told Clay that she never realized he was that tall, since she usually sees him sitting down in class. And Joss said he will probably go to the next Science Bowl meeting, since he won't have rowing anymore.)
But it was a small waste of a free-lunch-hour. Not that I did anything really productive anyway. I spent most of first lunch talking with Clay about Candide and museums, and then Yuma came along and we started to put up posters for the shoe collection NHS is hosting. But it was nearly second lunch by now, and since we were hungry, we just went down one hallway that was conveniently on the way to lunch and stapled posters on any bulletin board we could find, including the one in the music corner (also, thanks to Clay's height, we managed to staple a poster on the board above the doors when you're walking from the art wing to the music area).
We spent around fifteen minutes eating during second lunch (and also congregating with Tea, Gretchen, Dora, and Brunhilda) when the fire alarm went off. I was just done with my lunch (my lunch-eating speed has increased dramatically over the years, and I think it also applies to any-food-eating-speed as long as the food isn't too cold or hot), but unfortunately, I did not have my jacket with me, so it was a very cold wait outside. Offset slightly by the warmth Tea provided (that Bruney was not willing to take part in).
Five minutes into third lunch, we were allowed back in. Everyone else went back to their classes, and Yuma and I stayed behind for Clay to finish his lunch. Then, we circled another hallway and stapled some more posters along the way to the English/SS learning center.
The rest of the time was spent (for me, at least) reading some of the 40+ new updates from my 100+ blog subscriptions. And printing out an article for Middle East, which I should be reading and infecting with marginalia now, instead of typing this.
(P.S.: Before I go, I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that I have painted my nails three different colors, instead of two. I really like the shiny silver. Also, as I was walking down the hall to get my jacket, the girl who sits to the side behind Yuma in English—I don't know her name—told Clay that she never realized he was that tall, since she usually sees him sitting down in class. And Joss said he will probably go to the next Science Bowl meeting, since he won't have rowing anymore.)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Interviews, Take One
It went well, suffice to say. I wish to say no more on the topic anyway.
Instead I will talk about my day, prior to 3pm. In multi this morning, Tea brought some problems from the previous Math Prize contest (oh, I don't think I've mentioned this before, but this Saturday Tea and I are going to participate in this really neat-sounding contest—that is, if we don't get lost on the subway first). The ones that Tea had not already solved were hard. I should probably do some practice problems, but I need to squeeze in the time first.
Some time later (this time warp features a momentum physics lab, a really productive bio period, and a lunch consisting of pumpkin pie and pad thai), I was stuck in French, encore. I tried to focus, really, but it was just not going in. But I did catch part of the ending to "La Belle et le Bête," before the really dramatic part was cut off by the bell. Such is life.
I also spilled silver nail polish on my quarter-grades-release-form. Apparently that means I should apply to "make-up school," if there even is such a school. I think it would just be a class under some broad major such as theater production or something (note my ambiguity: I know nothing about this subject at all). I have to admit, Clay does not make the best of jokes, although it's cute in its own way.
On the bus ride home, a group of guys were trying to get this guy who I shall now arbitrarily name Kirk (the go-to name for guys I will never again mention) to do something with a poster. Their exact words involved "freshman" and "gift," and Kirk was (I think quite rightfully) suspicious.
The guys said everything was fine, and Kirk replied, "No way. I can sense a prank when I see one, and that's definitely a prank."
So the guys unwrapped the poster, and apparently it was perfectly fine (I didn't see, I sat in front of them).
Still. Doesn't this just scream, "Hey, there's something wrong here!"
I really should learn how to drive soon, and escape all of this craziness.
Instead I will talk about my day, prior to 3pm. In multi this morning, Tea brought some problems from the previous Math Prize contest (oh, I don't think I've mentioned this before, but this Saturday Tea and I are going to participate in this really neat-sounding contest—that is, if we don't get lost on the subway first). The ones that Tea had not already solved were hard. I should probably do some practice problems, but I need to squeeze in the time first.
Some time later (this time warp features a momentum physics lab, a really productive bio period, and a lunch consisting of pumpkin pie and pad thai), I was stuck in French, encore. I tried to focus, really, but it was just not going in. But I did catch part of the ending to "La Belle et le Bête," before the really dramatic part was cut off by the bell. Such is life.
I also spilled silver nail polish on my quarter-grades-release-form. Apparently that means I should apply to "make-up school," if there even is such a school. I think it would just be a class under some broad major such as theater production or something (note my ambiguity: I know nothing about this subject at all). I have to admit, Clay does not make the best of jokes, although it's cute in its own way.
On the bus ride home, a group of guys were trying to get this guy who I shall now arbitrarily name Kirk (the go-to name for guys I will never again mention) to do something with a poster. Their exact words involved "freshman" and "gift," and Kirk was (I think quite rightfully) suspicious.
The guys said everything was fine, and Kirk replied, "No way. I can sense a prank when I see one, and that's definitely a prank."
So the guys unwrapped the poster, and apparently it was perfectly fine (I didn't see, I sat in front of them).
Still. Doesn't this just scream, "Hey, there's something wrong here!"
I really should learn how to drive soon, and escape all of this craziness.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Hindsight Is A Spiteful Kid
The main problem with wanting to prop up your vanity (or just being over-eager in general) is, well, sometimes you wish you hadn't. Really. Not that, I, uh, have any experience in this field or anything. Uh-huh.
But I would like to take this opportunity to note that my ankle does not like me. I was walking from the dining counter to the kitchen counter when my left ankle decided to writhe in pain, and naturally I almost toppled over. Needless to say, it was not fun and resulted in me hobbling on the other leg for a long time (because I was afraid to see if my ankle was okay afterwards).
I have weird joint problems (as Tea nicely pointed out). That I will admit. This ankle thing could be related to my habit of sitting on my ankles, although it does not explain the relative lack of pain in my other ankle, unless I usually only sit on one ankle. I don't know—and I don't want to find out, because that would mean more ankle-sitting and possibly more pain.
Anyway. My mom and I went to Crumbs today, because two of my interviews to come (the early decision/action ones) will occur there. My mom's theory was that we should have a "mock interview" there and see how things go, since I am generally not good around strangers. Instead, the entire journey turned into a "What do you want to do in the future?" talk, but this time with a delicious apple pie cupcake, as opposed to the ordinary talks. My mom's idea of my future (and probably my dad's too, since they think remarkably alike) is that I have three choices: financial whatever, engineer, or doctor. (Okay, so I could have expanded upon the "financial whatever," but then it wouldn't rhyme.)
She is leaning towards doctor. Something about stability and lack of need for aggression.
We are going to Starbucks tomorrow (did you know I have never been to Starbucks, ever?) and figuring out what the second floor will mean for awkwardness in terms of interviews (Ariadne said it was pretty awkward since no one else was talking). I think I will get a hot chocolate tomorrow. Or whatever looks good. Any recommendations?
Also, in light of all the issues going on (primarily mine, but also everyone else's), I have decided that I need to take on a more optimistic, plan-oriented way of approaching things. Of course, I know it's not going to work out that way (I should know, the last few times I tried planning something always just happened), but I am setting some basic guidelines and then letting things roam. I have a December plan (if it ever will happen, that is). And plans are at least something to go by, when everything else is just so chaotic.
. . .
"You are Rena," he said, without any charm. Charm was not needed for those who were desperate enough to see him. "Changed, no doubt. How is the family?"
"Good," I replied. "Everyone who is alive is good."
"You mean yourself?"
So he knew. It should not have been surprising—after all, Allison Saint-Cross knew everything—but a part of me still wished he had not known, that I would be able to bring some shock into his hardened composure. I took his outstretched hand and allowed him to guide me inside the house out of habit. I knew the house better than he did, I had in owned this place with my childhood dreams. But habits, too ingrained in the mind, were hard to break.
"I thought I saw him the other day," he continued. "In a silver robe so characteristically his style. I thought, for once, I was wrong."
The unspoken words stung. Allison was never wrong. It could not have been Ciel. Ciel was—he was—I stared into Allison's eyes. "He came to you last, he must have wanted something from you."
"If he did, he did not tell me."
"Liar! You know very well what he wanted, you probably even gave it to him!"
"No," Allison said. "I meant, he did not come to see me. Not on that day."
"But he said he would," I said. "He told me that was where he was going. And everyone saw him in town, on Bayon Street, and everyone knows that if he was on Bayon Street then he must be—"
"Fate is here too, why don't you ask him?"
He was angry now. He had to be. Allison never mentioned Fate unless he was upset—he always preferred to ignore Fate's existence, as much as possible. I took my hand from his and leaned against the wall. "Fate. Is that why? Because you think Fate has to do with this?"
But I would like to take this opportunity to note that my ankle does not like me. I was walking from the dining counter to the kitchen counter when my left ankle decided to writhe in pain, and naturally I almost toppled over. Needless to say, it was not fun and resulted in me hobbling on the other leg for a long time (because I was afraid to see if my ankle was okay afterwards).
I have weird joint problems (as Tea nicely pointed out). That I will admit. This ankle thing could be related to my habit of sitting on my ankles, although it does not explain the relative lack of pain in my other ankle, unless I usually only sit on one ankle. I don't know—and I don't want to find out, because that would mean more ankle-sitting and possibly more pain.
Anyway. My mom and I went to Crumbs today, because two of my interviews to come (the early decision/action ones) will occur there. My mom's theory was that we should have a "mock interview" there and see how things go, since I am generally not good around strangers. Instead, the entire journey turned into a "What do you want to do in the future?" talk, but this time with a delicious apple pie cupcake, as opposed to the ordinary talks. My mom's idea of my future (and probably my dad's too, since they think remarkably alike) is that I have three choices: financial whatever, engineer, or doctor. (Okay, so I could have expanded upon the "financial whatever," but then it wouldn't rhyme.)
She is leaning towards doctor. Something about stability and lack of need for aggression.
We are going to Starbucks tomorrow (did you know I have never been to Starbucks, ever?) and figuring out what the second floor will mean for awkwardness in terms of interviews (Ariadne said it was pretty awkward since no one else was talking). I think I will get a hot chocolate tomorrow. Or whatever looks good. Any recommendations?
Also, in light of all the issues going on (primarily mine, but also everyone else's), I have decided that I need to take on a more optimistic, plan-oriented way of approaching things. Of course, I know it's not going to work out that way (I should know, the last few times I tried planning something always just happened), but I am setting some basic guidelines and then letting things roam. I have a December plan (if it ever will happen, that is). And plans are at least something to go by, when everything else is just so chaotic.
. . .
Allie's All About Apathy (part III)
"You are Rena," he said, without any charm. Charm was not needed for those who were desperate enough to see him. "Changed, no doubt. How is the family?"
"Good," I replied. "Everyone who is alive is good."
"You mean yourself?"
So he knew. It should not have been surprising—after all, Allison Saint-Cross knew everything—but a part of me still wished he had not known, that I would be able to bring some shock into his hardened composure. I took his outstretched hand and allowed him to guide me inside the house out of habit. I knew the house better than he did, I had in owned this place with my childhood dreams. But habits, too ingrained in the mind, were hard to break.
"I thought I saw him the other day," he continued. "In a silver robe so characteristically his style. I thought, for once, I was wrong."
The unspoken words stung. Allison was never wrong. It could not have been Ciel. Ciel was—he was—I stared into Allison's eyes. "He came to you last, he must have wanted something from you."
"If he did, he did not tell me."
"Liar! You know very well what he wanted, you probably even gave it to him!"
"No," Allison said. "I meant, he did not come to see me. Not on that day."
"But he said he would," I said. "He told me that was where he was going. And everyone saw him in town, on Bayon Street, and everyone knows that if he was on Bayon Street then he must be—"
"Fate is here too, why don't you ask him?"
He was angry now. He had to be. Allison never mentioned Fate unless he was upset—he always preferred to ignore Fate's existence, as much as possible. I took my hand from his and leaned against the wall. "Fate. Is that why? Because you think Fate has to do with this?"
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Here Is To NaNoWriMo And Math Meet
Math meet today! The second math meet of the—do we call it a season?—started with me missing the last fifteen minutes of Middle East (which is such a boring class, although now I know what a caliph is, finally). I went downstairs and saw Tea and Gretchen coming the other way, and we all got on the bus (and eventually everyone else got on the bus as well).
Obviously, per math meet tradition, we talked about random things. I don't remember much of the conversation, because I was attempting to read the last 15+ pages of Metamorphosis on the bus, and then proceeded to get really nauseated. Not good. (Tybalt remarked that our bus ride was extremely bumpy—more so than usual—which I believe may have contributed to the cause.)
Off the bus (and into Spearheadville), we went into the cafeteria and were going to our usual table in the banished corner when some random girl said, "Is this the nerd conference?"
That comment aside, the pre-math-rounds-math-meet-time went really well. There was lots of food, lots of fun, and lots of hysteria in general, except I believe that either Gretchen or Tea may have better things to say about this because I was rather, uh... anyway.
I will comment on the rounds though. Round 3 was really straightforward, except I did 36 - 8 in my head and got 24. No idea how that happened. Round 5 was also okay except the last question, and we did not have to know sin 75, although I do know it rather well (for the time being) thanks to Bryant's wonderfully descriptive circle (read: circle with four dots). Round 6 was also okay, although I probably flunked out on the math because I got the second question wrong.
But I'm on B-team, so who cares?
Also, while going into round 3, I waited outside for a while with a bunch of Treeburg people who were extremely tall. In matching hoodies. Argon suggested that we really should get hoodies for math team. Uh-huh. Keep on dreaming, Argon.
This is the end of my math meet recount. Someone else pick up from here?
. . .
P.s.: The 2010 midterm election results are out! But they were close to expected, so not too much surprise there.
. . .
And, of course, I mentioned NaNoWriMo, and I have been seeing it around plenty of times, so I suppose I could take part in it too. Except mine will probably be NaReallyShortAndDisjointedNoWriHalfMo, if that makes any sense. I'm sure it did.
I was supposed to have an outline and notes jotted down before November began to give me a head start or something, but since I have my characters already (yay for recycling) and I only really write about one plot, that is not extremely necessary.
So this is the first edition of my ReallyShortAndDisjointedNovel. AlsoKnownAsALongShortStory. NotEdited.
In the morning, I came upon the cliff my brother used to call "Judgment's Edge."
Or, if he was feeling creative, he would call it, "The place where all the moping people come to mope and all the idiots come to make stupid poetry about things they'll never understand."
He was never a creative one. It was either plain and straightforward, or he did not bother with it. And I never knew how he put up with the stories we learned as little kids, but something must have stuck, because he remembered Judgment's Edge from a book our mother had read to us back when she still read. The book was about a boy and his two sisters, that was all I remembered. A boy and his two sisters, just like my brother Ciel, and my sister Celeste, and me.
I am not named after the sky. I am not a skychild. But in the book, the older brother and sister loved their youngest sister. They adored her. And that is all I remember from the book, aside from the ledge they called Judgment's Edge, where the brother and sisters went to pray for their mother's health.
Back then, we did not have to pray for our mother's health. These days, I did not have to either. I wondered if I had ever prayed for her.
I knew Ciel never prayed. Skychildren did not pray. They performed miracles because they were children of the sky. The ones who could survive anything. But Ciel did not pray, not because he believed himself invincible, but because he thought it was pointless. Or maybe the idea of it was too complex, too reliant on a faith he did not possess.
Faith brought me to here, I knew. A faith Ciel never took part in. The same faith—or lack thereof—that created this world.
Anna Marie.
I was in Anna Marie now. Kaniol. A hundred thousand worlds away from Nephria.
I was on Judgment's Edge, looking down on the glistening rooftops of the buildings of Anna Marie. The tall, pointy tower of the Sovereign's Castle. The sprawling gardens Seria Deshen took so much pride in maintaining. The grand magnolias of the DiGrant's front lawn. The town square. The bell tower of the library. The winding Crescentia that flowed through the east end of the city and sparkled under the morning sun.
It was beautiful. I wished I knew why Ciel wanted to leave here so badly.
To be continued next time I have something interesting to say.
Obviously, per math meet tradition, we talked about random things. I don't remember much of the conversation, because I was attempting to read the last 15+ pages of Metamorphosis on the bus, and then proceeded to get really nauseated. Not good. (Tybalt remarked that our bus ride was extremely bumpy—more so than usual—which I believe may have contributed to the cause.)
Off the bus (and into Spearheadville), we went into the cafeteria and were going to our usual table in the banished corner when some random girl said, "Is this the nerd conference?"
That comment aside, the pre-math-rounds-math-meet-time went really well. There was lots of food, lots of fun, and lots of hysteria in general, except I believe that either Gretchen or Tea may have better things to say about this because I was rather, uh... anyway.
I will comment on the rounds though. Round 3 was really straightforward, except I did 36 - 8 in my head and got 24. No idea how that happened. Round 5 was also okay except the last question, and we did not have to know sin 75, although I do know it rather well (for the time being) thanks to Bryant's wonderfully descriptive circle (read: circle with four dots). Round 6 was also okay, although I probably flunked out on the math because I got the second question wrong.
But I'm on B-team, so who cares?
Also, while going into round 3, I waited outside for a while with a bunch of Treeburg people who were extremely tall. In matching hoodies. Argon suggested that we really should get hoodies for math team. Uh-huh. Keep on dreaming, Argon.
This is the end of my math meet recount. Someone else pick up from here?
. . .
P.s.: The 2010 midterm election results are out! But they were close to expected, so not too much surprise there.
. . .
And, of course, I mentioned NaNoWriMo, and I have been seeing it around plenty of times, so I suppose I could take part in it too. Except mine will probably be NaReallyShortAndDisjointedNoWriHalfMo, if that makes any sense. I'm sure it did.
I was supposed to have an outline and notes jotted down before November began to give me a head start or something, but since I have my characters already (yay for recycling) and I only really write about one plot, that is not extremely necessary.
So this is the first edition of my ReallyShortAndDisjointedNovel. AlsoKnownAsALongShortStory. NotEdited.
Allie's All About Apathy (note the alliteration?)
In the morning, I came upon the cliff my brother used to call "Judgment's Edge."
Or, if he was feeling creative, he would call it, "The place where all the moping people come to mope and all the idiots come to make stupid poetry about things they'll never understand."
He was never a creative one. It was either plain and straightforward, or he did not bother with it. And I never knew how he put up with the stories we learned as little kids, but something must have stuck, because he remembered Judgment's Edge from a book our mother had read to us back when she still read. The book was about a boy and his two sisters, that was all I remembered. A boy and his two sisters, just like my brother Ciel, and my sister Celeste, and me.
I am not named after the sky. I am not a skychild. But in the book, the older brother and sister loved their youngest sister. They adored her. And that is all I remember from the book, aside from the ledge they called Judgment's Edge, where the brother and sisters went to pray for their mother's health.
Back then, we did not have to pray for our mother's health. These days, I did not have to either. I wondered if I had ever prayed for her.
I knew Ciel never prayed. Skychildren did not pray. They performed miracles because they were children of the sky. The ones who could survive anything. But Ciel did not pray, not because he believed himself invincible, but because he thought it was pointless. Or maybe the idea of it was too complex, too reliant on a faith he did not possess.
Faith brought me to here, I knew. A faith Ciel never took part in. The same faith—or lack thereof—that created this world.
Anna Marie.
I was in Anna Marie now. Kaniol. A hundred thousand worlds away from Nephria.
I was on Judgment's Edge, looking down on the glistening rooftops of the buildings of Anna Marie. The tall, pointy tower of the Sovereign's Castle. The sprawling gardens Seria Deshen took so much pride in maintaining. The grand magnolias of the DiGrant's front lawn. The town square. The bell tower of the library. The winding Crescentia that flowed through the east end of the city and sparkled under the morning sun.
It was beautiful. I wished I knew why Ciel wanted to leave here so badly.
To be continued next time I have something interesting to say.
Monday, November 1, 2010
It's Been A While
Since I've written anything. I have been busy with a lot things, such as college applications (most obviously), but also homework and general procrastination. Very, very busy, so much so that I missed the last day to post in October and must now start in November.
What a tragedy.
Anyway, since I have fuzzy memory I will recount things in reverse order. Bear with me as we travel back in warped time.
Tuesday, Nov. 2nd:
Election day! Which means three things: a) no school tomorrow; b) going over to Tea's house to bake donuts with Yuma; and c) checking out how accurate Nate Silver's predictions are. Excitement levels in that order. My mom had no idea there was no school tomorrow, so I wonder what would have happened if I went out at 6:50 and walked to the library and spent my day there? Oh well, she knows now, so that's not possible.
Also, I am very excited to see how baked donuts will look like. And taste like, too. I am so glad I subscribed to, uh... around 109293874 food blogs while I was working on my college essays (i.e. procrastinating), because I would never have found the recipe without it.
Then, of course, actual election results! That, too, is exciting, but I guess it's not as exciting as listening to PM-wannabes dissing each other in French and gluing their hands into their pockets. But I suppose that is a purely Canadian thing.
Monday, Nov. 1st:
ED/EA applications are due today, and guess what? I don't have to worry about them, because I finished them! Yay! Other than that, the day went by fairly boringly. Oh, right, I fell asleep in French today, which was bad, because I was in the middle of a listening test. Luckily, I got through the first trial effectively, and I couldn't understand most of it anyway, so I guess a second listen-through wouldn't have helped much.
But I told my partner-in-crime-in-the-business-of-staying-up-late that I should probably set a bedtime, and he suggested, "11pm?"
Then I told him that I fell asleep in class, so he immediately changed it to 9pm.
Haha. As if. I barely get any work done before 9pm. But I do need to get to bed earlier, and preferably not spend half an hour trying to say "goodbye" in Welsh. Or Portuguese. Or Macedonian. Anyway, now we've set it at around 10-11pmish, which is a good time, I suppose. If only I can remember that, along with the fact that I need to bring lunch money (and money I owe Tea).
Also, NaNoWriMo is starting today! Anyone interested in starting a full-fledged novel (or, really, does anyone have the time to do that)?
Sunday, Oct. 31st:
Halloween! My parents and I went out to buy a printer/fax/scanner/copier/whatever-else-is-there machine. We went to Best Buy, and once there, my mom told me, "Can you look for some whiteout?"
"Mom, we're at Best Buy. Why would there be whiteout here?"
"Why not?" My mom said. "I'm sure they have some."
No, mom, they don't. I asked the guy at the front desk anyway, and he said he has never seen whiteout in the store. Ever.
Then I went to check out the iPads, and started playing Plants vs. Zombies, which is my favorite game of all iPad games. My dad came over and checked out the MacBook Pro to the side. I must say, I'm not a fan. Seriously, Apple. You were great a couple years ago with all those really colorful computers, but these days you're all white and black and silver. So monochrome. Even shuffles have color. Why not laptops?
Anyway, we also checked out several Sony laptops, and we wanted to see a few Lenovo ones too, but Best Buy didn't have any. Oh well. I'm hoping to get a new laptop soon, if only because I'm really, really tired of all the white (yeah, this laptop's white too) and I want to be able to bring it in to school to work on stuff.
Saturday, Oct. 30th:
We (my parents and I) went to the border early this morning (read: we left at around midnight) to sort out our visas, once again. It was fairly successful, and I even finished a lot of my reading/listening homework. Very productive. Then we came back and went to a Chinese supermarket in West Hartford, where I discovered supermarket-porn.
Well, okay, not really porn, but they were selling the herbal version of Viagra, except they call it deer's tail, so I had no idea what it was, and when I looked at the pictures they showed people in very... fascinating positions.
Ahem. Yeah.
When I came home I worked on my Chicago app, and I finished very late into the night (around 9pm, I believe). But Cammie's birthday/Halloween party was today, so I went over and shared in the movie-watching (Moulin Rouge), gossip-sharing fun with everyone else there.
Where, yes, major stuff were revealed, but at least on this blog that is as far as I'll go with it.
And in the morning (which is technically the next day, but oh well) there was chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream! Yay!
Monday, Oct. 25th to Friday, Oct. 29th:
I don't remember what happened here, except for a haze of college apps and late-night chatting with Yuma and maybe other things, such as, oh, Clay repeatedly asking Yuma and me whether we were going to frisbee. I got the message on Wednesday, thank you very much. I didn't really need the reminders on Thursday and Friday as well. But I think I'm just snappy because I am so exhausted by college apps and not sleeping nearly enough.
But that is all I remember, and all I can recall right now. Time to do homework and maybe, maybe, catching up on some sleep.
What a tragedy.
Anyway, since I have fuzzy memory I will recount things in reverse order. Bear with me as we travel back in warped time.
Tuesday, Nov. 2nd:
Election day! Which means three things: a) no school tomorrow; b) going over to Tea's house to bake donuts with Yuma; and c) checking out how accurate Nate Silver's predictions are. Excitement levels in that order. My mom had no idea there was no school tomorrow, so I wonder what would have happened if I went out at 6:50 and walked to the library and spent my day there? Oh well, she knows now, so that's not possible.
Also, I am very excited to see how baked donuts will look like. And taste like, too. I am so glad I subscribed to, uh... around 109293874 food blogs while I was working on my college essays (i.e. procrastinating), because I would never have found the recipe without it.
Then, of course, actual election results! That, too, is exciting, but I guess it's not as exciting as listening to PM-wannabes dissing each other in French and gluing their hands into their pockets. But I suppose that is a purely Canadian thing.
Monday, Nov. 1st:
ED/EA applications are due today, and guess what? I don't have to worry about them, because I finished them! Yay! Other than that, the day went by fairly boringly. Oh, right, I fell asleep in French today, which was bad, because I was in the middle of a listening test. Luckily, I got through the first trial effectively, and I couldn't understand most of it anyway, so I guess a second listen-through wouldn't have helped much.
But I told my partner-in-crime-in-the-business-of-staying-up-late that I should probably set a bedtime, and he suggested, "11pm?"
Then I told him that I fell asleep in class, so he immediately changed it to 9pm.
Haha. As if. I barely get any work done before 9pm. But I do need to get to bed earlier, and preferably not spend half an hour trying to say "goodbye" in Welsh. Or Portuguese. Or Macedonian. Anyway, now we've set it at around 10-11pmish, which is a good time, I suppose. If only I can remember that, along with the fact that I need to bring lunch money (and money I owe Tea).
Also, NaNoWriMo is starting today! Anyone interested in starting a full-fledged novel (or, really, does anyone have the time to do that)?
Sunday, Oct. 31st:
Halloween! My parents and I went out to buy a printer/fax/scanner/copier/whatever-else-is-there machine. We went to Best Buy, and once there, my mom told me, "Can you look for some whiteout?"
"Mom, we're at Best Buy. Why would there be whiteout here?"
"Why not?" My mom said. "I'm sure they have some."
No, mom, they don't. I asked the guy at the front desk anyway, and he said he has never seen whiteout in the store. Ever.
Then I went to check out the iPads, and started playing Plants vs. Zombies, which is my favorite game of all iPad games. My dad came over and checked out the MacBook Pro to the side. I must say, I'm not a fan. Seriously, Apple. You were great a couple years ago with all those really colorful computers, but these days you're all white and black and silver. So monochrome. Even shuffles have color. Why not laptops?
Anyway, we also checked out several Sony laptops, and we wanted to see a few Lenovo ones too, but Best Buy didn't have any. Oh well. I'm hoping to get a new laptop soon, if only because I'm really, really tired of all the white (yeah, this laptop's white too) and I want to be able to bring it in to school to work on stuff.
Saturday, Oct. 30th:
We (my parents and I) went to the border early this morning (read: we left at around midnight) to sort out our visas, once again. It was fairly successful, and I even finished a lot of my reading/listening homework. Very productive. Then we came back and went to a Chinese supermarket in West Hartford, where I discovered supermarket-porn.
Well, okay, not really porn, but they were selling the herbal version of Viagra, except they call it deer's tail, so I had no idea what it was, and when I looked at the pictures they showed people in very... fascinating positions.
Ahem. Yeah.
When I came home I worked on my Chicago app, and I finished very late into the night (around 9pm, I believe). But Cammie's birthday/Halloween party was today, so I went over and shared in the movie-watching (Moulin Rouge), gossip-sharing fun with everyone else there.
Where, yes, major stuff were revealed, but at least on this blog that is as far as I'll go with it.
And in the morning (which is technically the next day, but oh well) there was chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream! Yay!
Monday, Oct. 25th to Friday, Oct. 29th:
I don't remember what happened here, except for a haze of college apps and late-night chatting with Yuma and maybe other things, such as, oh, Clay repeatedly asking Yuma and me whether we were going to frisbee. I got the message on Wednesday, thank you very much. I didn't really need the reminders on Thursday and Friday as well. But I think I'm just snappy because I am so exhausted by college apps and not sleeping nearly enough.
But that is all I remember, and all I can recall right now. Time to do homework and maybe, maybe, catching up on some sleep.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
School Again, What A Surprise
Proper titling rules dictate that I should not capitalize the "A," but I am ignoring that for aesthetic purposes only. Anyway, after a long three-day weekend (yay for Columbus Day), I am back into the school routine. Which, thankfully, means reduced time for annoying college things, but unfortunately, also means increased time for schoolwork.
Since my morning was rather uneventful (we watched this "how to turn a sphere inside out" video and a few Old Spice commercials during communication time, but that was mostly it), I will skip right to French, where our teacher, who I shall now call Mme Pottery, spent most of the class showing us this music video (in French, of course) whose main ideas are "Why do we have to go to school and do all this work?" and "Oh, leave it to Charlemagne, he's to blame." Then we listened to this music video by the same singer who performed at the 1967 or 1965 Eurovision contest, and it's a song about a doll who complains that since she's so pretty she should be able to have so much, but she can't have boys falling in love with her. Or that was what I got out of it, anyway.
Great use of over an hour's worth of time.
I spent a good part of econ figuring out the tax graphs and how to draw producer and consumer burdens. Now I have the concepts down, so the graphs are easier. Yay! Unfortunately, we have a test on Monday, which means I will actually have to look over the practice test (it's quite a heavy bundle), and I am not looking forward to that.
I also spent a good part of my free convincing Yuma that math team was more important than frisbee. I'm not sure how well that went. But I did get to print out all the stuff I needed to print out (except the Naviance sheet), and then tomorrow morning I will have to schedule various meetings, but I think all is going well (so far). Clay took my computer (which reminds me, I hope he logged me off), so I got my envelopes written out and reformatted my lab, and Yuma and I folded paper airplanes according to that tutorial he found online, and we spent ten minutes or so throwing paper airplanes in the hallway. Archie, who was at the corner table, stared at us weirdly. When Clay came out, I finally managed to throw a successful, airborne, non-circling-back plane. I was really proud of myself.
Then I got all of my earlies letter envelopes settled, including seeing Tea and Kathrya multiple times in the process. After that, we (although Kathrya was just in it for the walk and the Gretchen-glomping time) went to math team, where everyone was already there. To our horrendous dismay, there was only one of the round 5 and 6 practice problems each left. Oh no! So we each took one and will now have to settle for next time.
Argon came over a while later and asked Tea about RSI. It was a long, rather drawn-out conversation, by the end of which we found ourselves all sitting on tables. Ms. Sherbert looked over at us and asked, "Are you guys practicing?"
Haha. I tried one of the geometry questions, but because I was too lazy to square numbers in my head, I didn't go further.
After math team, I went to the library, where I saw Zephy and Reese. Zephy was doing her physics homework (oh, utexas, how I loathe you so), and Reese was figuring out other people'schicken-scratch handwriting, because he got a huge list of rejects from his email list for tech club or something. So I sat down and tried to figure out said handwriting with him, and I think we got a couple of the emails (Reese's way of testing to see if the emails were valid was to send out an email with the subject line "test" and nothing else). We didn't get Superman though.
Pity.
Since my morning was rather uneventful (we watched this "how to turn a sphere inside out" video and a few Old Spice commercials during communication time, but that was mostly it), I will skip right to French, where our teacher, who I shall now call Mme Pottery, spent most of the class showing us this music video (in French, of course) whose main ideas are "Why do we have to go to school and do all this work?" and "Oh, leave it to Charlemagne, he's to blame." Then we listened to this music video by the same singer who performed at the 1967 or 1965 Eurovision contest, and it's a song about a doll who complains that since she's so pretty she should be able to have so much, but she can't have boys falling in love with her. Or that was what I got out of it, anyway.
Great use of over an hour's worth of time.
I spent a good part of econ figuring out the tax graphs and how to draw producer and consumer burdens. Now I have the concepts down, so the graphs are easier. Yay! Unfortunately, we have a test on Monday, which means I will actually have to look over the practice test (it's quite a heavy bundle), and I am not looking forward to that.
I also spent a good part of my free convincing Yuma that math team was more important than frisbee. I'm not sure how well that went. But I did get to print out all the stuff I needed to print out (except the Naviance sheet), and then tomorrow morning I will have to schedule various meetings, but I think all is going well (so far). Clay took my computer (which reminds me, I hope he logged me off), so I got my envelopes written out and reformatted my lab, and Yuma and I folded paper airplanes according to that tutorial he found online, and we spent ten minutes or so throwing paper airplanes in the hallway. Archie, who was at the corner table, stared at us weirdly. When Clay came out, I finally managed to throw a successful, airborne, non-circling-back plane. I was really proud of myself.
Then I got all of my earlies letter envelopes settled, including seeing Tea and Kathrya multiple times in the process. After that, we (although Kathrya was just in it for the walk and the Gretchen-glomping time) went to math team, where everyone was already there. To our horrendous dismay, there was only one of the round 5 and 6 practice problems each left. Oh no! So we each took one and will now have to settle for next time.
Argon came over a while later and asked Tea about RSI. It was a long, rather drawn-out conversation, by the end of which we found ourselves all sitting on tables. Ms. Sherbert looked over at us and asked, "Are you guys practicing?"
Haha. I tried one of the geometry questions, but because I was too lazy to square numbers in my head, I didn't go further.
After math team, I went to the library, where I saw Zephy and Reese. Zephy was doing her physics homework (oh, utexas, how I loathe you so), and Reese was figuring out other people's
Pity.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Again With The Emails
This is significantly less interesting than the last time, but bears mentioning because I don't want to write my Cornell essay right now.
Anyway, after much consideration (or I think it's much consideration, anyway), and much disappointment after learning that we (mostly Tea) had stolen Dr. Cans for Science Bowl on the same day as Chess Club (the conversation between Sonny, Livny, and me on this topic is appendixed below), Sonny decided to resume Chess Club once again. He sent out an email earlier, with the following message:
How delightful. I think that is also the first meeting (for new members) for Science Bowl. And since our room is in 1228, we'll be... an awkward two rooms away. So I emailed him (and everyone else, sort of accidentally) with the suggestion that he move the room to 1232, because then there will only be the chem office between the two rooms, and so they'll be connected (via the doors that lead from the office to the classrooms). Sonny agreed to that.
A few minutes later, Livny replied (to everyone):
Appendix:
1) Conversation/Telling Sonny Dr. Cans is no longer a "full-time" advisor for Chess Club (or what I remember, anyway, since some parts of it is fuzzy):
Me: Hey, Sonny, so it just so happens that Tea and Gretchen and I and some other people have started this Science Bowl club, and we got Dr. Cans as our advisor—
Sonny: Uh-huh.
Me: And our schedules were such that it could only work out on Thursdays. So Chess Club might not have an advisor anymore.
Sonny: Wait, what?
Me: We're extremely sorry about that.
Sonny: But—but—
Livny: Don't worry about it. He'll be all right. I mean, it's only been his dream for who knows how long to start a chess club, and all you're doing is crushing all of his hopes. No big deal. He'll get over it.
Sonny: Wait, but—
Livny: Hey, look, just because you've wanted this for such a long time, and it's been the only thing you've ever thought about, and it's almost as important as your life, doesn't mean—obviously, Science Bowl is much more important.
2) My chess game with Sonny during Club Rush:
After a good fifteen minutes or so, I have lost all of my pieces except a couple pawns, a bishop, and a king. Sonny has a few pawns, two rooks, and a king. He is on offense, with his rooks ready to kill my bishop and even threaten my king.
In the next five minutes (with much foot-stomping on my part because he just won't hurry up and I had to go print out stuff for English soon), we both have the same number of pawns on the board, and a king each. And nothing else.
Anyway, after much consideration (or I think it's much consideration, anyway), and much disappointment after learning that we (mostly Tea) had stolen Dr. Cans for Science Bowl on the same day as Chess Club (the conversation between Sonny, Livny, and me on this topic is appendixed below), Sonny decided to resume Chess Club once again. He sent out an email earlier, with the following message:
Thanks for your interest in the Chess Club! We will be holding our first meeting Thursday, October 21 after school in room 1234. I hope to see you there. It will be fun, and there will be candy! If you are interested in the club, but Thursday is not convenient, please e-mail me and we can try to work around everyone's schedule. See you next week!
How delightful. I think that is also the first meeting (for new members) for Science Bowl. And since our room is in 1228, we'll be... an awkward two rooms away. So I emailed him (and everyone else, sort of accidentally) with the suggestion that he move the room to 1232, because then there will only be the chem office between the two rooms, and so they'll be connected (via the doors that lead from the office to the classrooms). Sonny agreed to that.
A few minutes later, Livny replied (to everyone):
Thursday is not convenient.Well, there goes the rest of Sonny's plans. Maybe there still will be candy? Or maybe someone else will object that they're allergic to glucose and the club might as well just self-combust.
Appendix:
1) Conversation/Telling Sonny Dr. Cans is no longer a "full-time" advisor for Chess Club (or what I remember, anyway, since some parts of it is fuzzy):
Me: Hey, Sonny, so it just so happens that Tea and Gretchen and I and some other people have started this Science Bowl club, and we got Dr. Cans as our advisor—
Sonny: Uh-huh.
Me: And our schedules were such that it could only work out on Thursdays. So Chess Club might not have an advisor anymore.
Sonny: Wait, what?
Me: We're extremely sorry about that.
Sonny: But—but—
Livny: Don't worry about it. He'll be all right. I mean, it's only been his dream for who knows how long to start a chess club, and all you're doing is crushing all of his hopes. No big deal. He'll get over it.
Sonny: Wait, but—
Livny: Hey, look, just because you've wanted this for such a long time, and it's been the only thing you've ever thought about, and it's almost as important as your life, doesn't mean—obviously, Science Bowl is much more important.
2) My chess game with Sonny during Club Rush:
After a good fifteen minutes or so, I have lost all of my pieces except a couple pawns, a bishop, and a king. Sonny has a few pawns, two rooks, and a king. He is on offense, with his rooks ready to kill my bishop and even threaten my king.
In the next five minutes (with much foot-stomping on my part because he just won't hurry up and I had to go print out stuff for English soon), we both have the same number of pawns on the board, and a king each. And nothing else.
Friday, October 8, 2010
How's Life?
I have been asked that question so many times today, I'm wondering if my face says, "Ask me how my life is going?" If you're curious, it's going by really well, although I would prefer a few hours more of sleep and a good 40% decrease in workload.
Sleep. Is. Good. And I'm not having enough of it lately.
I saw Mr. Coffee today, who asked me if econ was in the math department or social studies. I sometimes wish econ was in math. Then we'd get a smartboard, and, if we're lucky, we can shift the graphs like Mr. Booth does, and the econ graphs would make so much more sense.
Then, as I made my way over to econ after the bell, I saw Clay's French class outside the language lab, blocking the way. I think there is something about world language teachers (or at least the French ones) not arriving to class on time. Or maybe it's just classes that require stairs-climbing.
And I saw Joss too, who asked me, "How's life?"
Gah.
In econ, Yuma and I played go because I was too not motivated to do any work. Yuma won, of course, and then we started playing connect-five, and Joss then joined in, and Joss and I started playing connect-five except with gravity (like the connect-four game with the checker-like pieces). I won that game, surprisingly.
Somewhere in the middle of the class, Ali asked me, "Are you going to the Pink dance?" Which was really random, and kind of freaked me out because people are already talking about it.
Seriously. I don't know what I'm going to do about it. Stop making me more stressed.
Anyway, fast-forward after econ, multi, and some random wandering around the school. There was ultimate frisbee after school today, which Tea and I joined, except the running lasted much longer than I could handle, so after Tea left, I just used some random guy's backpack as a pillow and watched people play. Or mostly watched one person play, but whatever.
Then Brian started talking about how some sci-fi book claimed that humans are inefficient because we're intolerant, or something to that effect. We were in the courtyard at that time, searching for any abandoned frisbees (because Yuma could not find his). Then we looked up and saw Clay waving from a window on the second floor. We also saw Mrs. Pointy, but I don't remember if she waved at us or not.
We saw them again as they left out the side door while we waited for Brian's mom.
If you were to ask me how my life is right now, I think you'd know the answer.
(P.s. I left out the more creepy parts. To at least make myself appear more, uh, normal, if only on the Internet.)
Thursday, October 7, 2010
We're In High School Now
Math meet recount! This technically starts earlier, around lunch-time, when we had the third installment of club rush, and math team was scheduled to recruit new members for the year. I think the new addition of froshies has made that goal not so urgent anymore, so no one even bothered setting up a table for math team for the first 15 minutes. Then I suppose Tybalt and Bryant decided that, as captains, they should take on some responsibilities, so they grabbed an empty table and put out a sheet of paper with no posters or other things advertising their intent.
They managed to get a bunch of people's friends and Jesus Christ to sign up. No one even kept track of the paper when it was time to go to class.
Then I worked my way through the rest of my classes, all the while eager for the math meet to start. First was extended multi, which was nice and always fast even though it's a long period. Then Yuma and I went to the math learning center to do our multi homework, and—yes, Tea—I did see Clay there. Big surprise. He sat at the table in front of us while he took a calc test (limits and discontinuities, very fun stuff), so I had a nice view of his side. But that was all. Really. (Well, okay, so we also talked, but that's normal and I think Dino's the only one who sometimes outright tells me not to talk to him.)
I had middle east after that, which was kind of boring because I was so eager to leave. Every math meet Wednesday I can never sit through all of my classes. The excitement is just too much. Although we did learn a bit more about Afghanistan, and also why Osama bin Laden hates us. I missed the rest of the Afghanistan powerpoint, though. Pity.
Which segues into the next, more exciting topic, math meet!
On the bus ride to Spearheadville, everyone sat towards the back, and we discussed a wide variety of things, including hair (it's always a discussion point), math problems (well, only Tybalt and Bryant were doing them), and other things that must have not been very interesting (in the long-term-interest-retaining way) because I don't remember them. When we got to our tables (in the corner, again), Tybalt, Bryant and Dino sat with us. I guess a lack of now-graduated-seniors has made sitting by themselves too lonely (that, and the only other option is the froshie table).
We ate lots of food while Tybalt and Bryant went over more math problems. Tea attempted to (re)learn Grob's name, but much to our dismay he just ignored us. Yuma and I played a short game of go, in which Yuma once again beat me (by a lot of stones, even though I had a 4-stone handicap), and then Tybalt and I went upstairs for the geometry round. Which, by the way, was a near total failure, until Tybalt realized that his approximations gave him the right answer for the last question, and so he, in that round alone, beat almost everyone else.
Which also goes to show how awful the questions were for the most part, I suppose. Round 5 was easy, and round 6? That was insane. Even Bryant didn't get any points, and that's saying something, because he was most definitely practicing the entire way there (unlike me, who fiddled around with one question and then got bus-sick and/or distracted).
Then, as we waited for the team round (or maybe after, there was so much waiting), everyone (except me) checked their IPRs. Dino got really upset because he got a B in Spanish, even though he did well in all of the tests. Despite much persuasion that: a) it was probably a mistake, and b) he should just talk to his Spanish teacher and stop moping, he did exactly that. Moping, that is. As if a B was going to kill him or something.
He's ridiculous.
Anyway, then team round came around, and there were more weird questions. I was pretty sure I had the geometry question right, but it was worded so weirdly that we got it wrong anyway (which I still think is an error on their part, not ours). Besides, it was a geometry question. Why was there percents?!
Then I figured out a question that Bryant got wrong (even after consulting me on some of the properties). It was a kind of miraculous moment. But I guess he was having a bad day (he was close on a lot of questions but not quite there).
We also found that Grob(I chose the weird name because I don't really like him) accidentally put his middle school name in the high school space. So naturally we called him by the middle school for the rest of the evening (not that we talked to him, though).
On the ride home, Tea and Gretchen tried to figure out what happened with Clay and me. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But they wouldn't believe that. And then Argon and Joss apparently wanted to join in on the gossip fun, because Argon started whispering to Joss about something that, when questioned, he refused to tell us.
We (Tea, Gretchen, and I) concluded that it was probably something highly inappropriate. Which is weird, because I don't think Argon is ever really inappropriate, although he does laugh at inappropriate things his friends say.
And that ends this math meet recount. I've got to go finish my essays now.
They managed to get a bunch of people's friends and Jesus Christ to sign up. No one even kept track of the paper when it was time to go to class.
Then I worked my way through the rest of my classes, all the while eager for the math meet to start. First was extended multi, which was nice and always fast even though it's a long period. Then Yuma and I went to the math learning center to do our multi homework, and—yes, Tea—I did see Clay there. Big surprise. He sat at the table in front of us while he took a calc test (limits and discontinuities, very fun stuff), so I had a nice view of his side. But that was all. Really. (Well, okay, so we also talked, but that's normal and I think Dino's the only one who sometimes outright tells me not to talk to him.)
I had middle east after that, which was kind of boring because I was so eager to leave. Every math meet Wednesday I can never sit through all of my classes. The excitement is just too much. Although we did learn a bit more about Afghanistan, and also why Osama bin Laden hates us. I missed the rest of the Afghanistan powerpoint, though. Pity.
Which segues into the next, more exciting topic, math meet!
On the bus ride to Spearheadville, everyone sat towards the back, and we discussed a wide variety of things, including hair (it's always a discussion point), math problems (well, only Tybalt and Bryant were doing them), and other things that must have not been very interesting (in the long-term-interest-retaining way) because I don't remember them. When we got to our tables (in the corner, again), Tybalt, Bryant and Dino sat with us. I guess a lack of now-graduated-seniors has made sitting by themselves too lonely (that, and the only other option is the froshie table).
We ate lots of food while Tybalt and Bryant went over more math problems. Tea attempted to (re)learn Grob's name, but much to our dismay he just ignored us. Yuma and I played a short game of go, in which Yuma once again beat me (by a lot of stones, even though I had a 4-stone handicap), and then Tybalt and I went upstairs for the geometry round. Which, by the way, was a near total failure, until Tybalt realized that his approximations gave him the right answer for the last question, and so he, in that round alone, beat almost everyone else.
Which also goes to show how awful the questions were for the most part, I suppose. Round 5 was easy, and round 6? That was insane. Even Bryant didn't get any points, and that's saying something, because he was most definitely practicing the entire way there (unlike me, who fiddled around with one question and then got bus-sick and/or distracted).
Then, as we waited for the team round (or maybe after, there was so much waiting), everyone (except me) checked their IPRs. Dino got really upset because he got a B in Spanish, even though he did well in all of the tests. Despite much persuasion that: a) it was probably a mistake, and b) he should just talk to his Spanish teacher and stop moping, he did exactly that. Moping, that is. As if a B was going to kill him or something.
He's ridiculous.
Anyway, then team round came around, and there were more weird questions. I was pretty sure I had the geometry question right, but it was worded so weirdly that we got it wrong anyway (which I still think is an error on their part, not ours). Besides, it was a geometry question. Why was there percents?!
Then I figured out a question that Bryant got wrong (even after consulting me on some of the properties). It was a kind of miraculous moment. But I guess he was having a bad day (he was close on a lot of questions but not quite there).
We also found that Grob
On the ride home, Tea and Gretchen tried to figure out what happened with Clay and me. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But they wouldn't believe that. And then Argon and Joss apparently wanted to join in on the gossip fun, because Argon started whispering to Joss about something that, when questioned, he refused to tell us.
We (Tea, Gretchen, and I) concluded that it was probably something highly inappropriate. Which is weird, because I don't think Argon is ever really inappropriate, although he does laugh at inappropriate things his friends say.
And that ends this math meet recount. I've got to go finish my essays now.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I would be amiss—
—if I did not mention the math meet today. Of course, I have a lot of work, so I won't go in-depth about it today, although it was extremely fun (I can say that much).
Just wanted to mention the new xkcd comic. Went through my blog subscriptions today and saw it at the end of the list, and it is absolutely amazing. I don't know how Randall Munroe does it, really.
Also wanted to mention that I am not engaging in anything suspicious at all. None at all. Just so you know (because people *cough Tea&Gretchen cough* are doubting me right now).
And this concludes my shortest post ever.
Just wanted to mention the new xkcd comic. Went through my blog subscriptions today and saw it at the end of the list, and it is absolutely amazing. I don't know how Randall Munroe does it, really.
Also wanted to mention that I am not engaging in anything suspicious at all. None at all. Just so you know (because people *cough Tea&Gretchen cough* are doubting me right now).
And this concludes my shortest post ever.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
A Take on Lighter Subjects
In multi, Nyx, Tea, Gretchen and I (counterclockwise circle!) discussed the viability of different types of notebooks. Nyx said that her favorite was the ones bound at the top, because there aren't any annoying spiral wires and it's easy to write with. I suggested that there should be notebooks that are spiral-bound at the top, but hole-punched along the side, so you could tear the pages out and they'd still go into a binder.
To which Gretchen (I think) said, "You mean loose leaf paper?"
Then, in physics, as Boris came up to Bryant to inquire about physics problems, I noticed that he had a notebook bound at the top (unfortunately, it wasn't spiral) and hole-punched along the side. So I pointed it out to Nyx, and we explained to Boris about our discussion in multi.
"I like these notebooks better," Boris replied. "It's better to write on since I'm left-handed."
"Or you could just flip an ordinary notebook over and write on the back side," Nyx said.
"Yes," Boris said, "but I still think the world is handist."
"You would say that," Ali said, joining in on the conversation.
"It's true," Boris said. "The world discriminates against left-handed people. You try being in the minority some time." And then he realized that Ali was a minority (at least here, anyway).
So the conversation devolved into an argument of whether Boris was racist or not.
That was basically the first half of my morning. It went downhill (slightly) from there, with more powerpoints, and extended French. (I was debating with Nyx earlier whether I'd be better off in French 4 honors, or 5A. They go over a lot of the same things, so there's not a lot of material differences.) I played go with Yuma for half an hour (on the 5x5 board—that is how pathetic I am with go), then spent a good part of econ defending Yuma from Julie. Then I spent my free doing math homework and playing Plants vs. Zombies on Yuma's iPod.
Oh, the joys of life.
(I can also mention that I saw what's-his-face multiple times throughout the day, and we talked about things—including French, as it turned out—but that will probably be superfluous and will plunge this blog further into the deep dark clutches of teenage girl frivolousness—if it wasn't already.)
To which Gretchen (I think) said, "You mean loose leaf paper?"
Then, in physics, as Boris came up to Bryant to inquire about physics problems, I noticed that he had a notebook bound at the top (unfortunately, it wasn't spiral) and hole-punched along the side. So I pointed it out to Nyx, and we explained to Boris about our discussion in multi.
"I like these notebooks better," Boris replied. "It's better to write on since I'm left-handed."
"Or you could just flip an ordinary notebook over and write on the back side," Nyx said.
"Yes," Boris said, "but I still think the world is handist."
"You would say that," Ali said, joining in on the conversation.
"It's true," Boris said. "The world discriminates against left-handed people. You try being in the minority some time." And then he realized that Ali was a minority (at least here, anyway).
So the conversation devolved into an argument of whether Boris was racist or not.
That was basically the first half of my morning. It went downhill (slightly) from there, with more powerpoints, and extended French. (I was debating with Nyx earlier whether I'd be better off in French 4 honors, or 5A. They go over a lot of the same things, so there's not a lot of material differences.) I played go with Yuma for half an hour (on the 5x5 board—that is how pathetic I am with go), then spent a good part of econ defending Yuma from Julie. Then I spent my free doing math homework and playing Plants vs. Zombies on Yuma's iPod.
Oh, the joys of life.
(I can also mention that I saw what's-his-face multiple times throughout the day, and we talked about things—including French, as it turned out—but that will probably be superfluous and will plunge this blog further into the deep dark clutches of teenage girl frivolousness—if it wasn't already.)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The Long-Awaited Math Team Runoffs (Again)
There are so many little froshies at math team this year! I don’t know how long they’ll last (I’m hoping they’ll stick it out until at least states roll around), but it’s still very exciting. They’re so itty-bitty-small and semi-adorable! I don’t know their personality, so I can’t say completely adorable though.
Other than that, we had our expected run-offs. I did rounds 3, 5, and 6, as expected, and I have at least 10 points. Well, at least I passed! And since I’m doing harder rounds this year, that is a vast improvement. I attribute this to the lack of algebra. Algebra is weird (no matter what you say, Tea). Geometry is awesome.
Argon and I had a talk about how we never talk anymore, except during math team. This is an extremely sad situation. I need to remedy that pronto. On the other hand, I am seeing much more of Joss (who thinks he will be on the C team by himself), most likely because we share econ together and he is often with Reese, who I am trying to see more of as well. The end of HUSH has done horrors for keeping up with my sophomore/now-junior friends.
I do have some reservations about our “goal of the year,” which is, as always, “beat Treeburg.” Without Irving, this may get harder, but who knows? Maybe Treeburg has lost three of their really mathy people, and so we have a better shot this year.
But enough about math team. I’m sure next Wednesday will be even more exciting, so I’ll leave this for now. Oh, and, I now know how Mr. Booth got his nickname, thanks to ScriptShadow (my newest blog obsession that reviews movie scripts).
Interesting things of today:
Other than that, we had our expected run-offs. I did rounds 3, 5, and 6, as expected, and I have at least 10 points. Well, at least I passed! And since I’m doing harder rounds this year, that is a vast improvement. I attribute this to the lack of algebra. Algebra is weird (no matter what you say, Tea). Geometry is awesome.
Argon and I had a talk about how we never talk anymore, except during math team. This is an extremely sad situation. I need to remedy that pronto. On the other hand, I am seeing much more of Joss (who thinks he will be on the C team by himself), most likely because we share econ together and he is often with Reese, who I am trying to see more of as well. The end of HUSH has done horrors for keeping up with my sophomore/now-junior friends.
I do have some reservations about our “goal of the year,” which is, as always, “beat Treeburg.” Without Irving, this may get harder, but who knows? Maybe Treeburg has lost three of their really mathy people, and so we have a better shot this year.
But enough about math team. I’m sure next Wednesday will be even more exciting, so I’ll leave this for now. Oh, and, I now know how Mr. Booth got his nickname, thanks to ScriptShadow (my newest blog obsession that reviews movie scripts).
Interesting things of today:
- We did the coffee filter drag force lab today in physics! Really exciting, except for the fact that it's really hard to measure motion when the coffee filter is really light and drifty. Ali wanted Bryant to be in her group (less work for all those involved except Bryant), but Bryant flipped a coin (or maybe he flipped a coin in his calculator, not sure) and decided to go with Dan's group instead. Emmeline had a free before physics, so she made a really cool data chart and it was so exciting to fill it in (not so exciting to drop a coffee filter 45 times though).
- In bio we killed algae! Okay, so we left three bottles of algae alive (but two are wrapped up in foil and mesh, so I'm not sure how long they'll live either), but the last bottle we fixed with sulfates and all those cool chemicals that fix oxygen and burns the hand and so obviously have destroyed the poor little algae cells.
- For French, we went downstairs to listen to the violin guy (Alexander something? I forgot) in the library. As I was listening (and turning away when the sounds got too screeching), I spotted Mario. He now sports a very, very ugly hairstyle. As I was telling Gretchen, it seems that haircuts work opposite for girls and guys. For girls, haircuts usually mean prettier. For guys, they usually mean uglier. I'm not sure why that is. Maybe they need to train haircutters (that's not a word, I know) to learn better boy-hair styles.
- In econ, Mr. Wollen wasn't here, and Yuma, Joss and I drew on the whiteboard, creating quite an (xkcd-inspired) adventure. With chess pieces falling from the sky, nuclear clouds, and lots of angels with big, bouncy heads. There was also an integral composed of smiley faces, flowers, double-square-roots, and brains. Julie got a picture of that one on her phone.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Magically Mundane Mondays
Here is the start of another week, and the foreshadowing of a busy week to be. Or maybe it’s just because my free is in the mornings on Monday, so I am not actually getting any substantial work done, and the day just feels tremendously long.
There is a utexas due for Friday, and although at least we do not have 40 questions long utexases (what would the plural of utexas be?) anymore, they are getting harder (no more concepts MCs), so they also take quite some time. The lab for bio from last week is now due next week, because there is a part II (yay for growing algae!) upcoming tomorrow and Wednesday. I have 12 CDs worth of a novel to burn through (well, okay, I am not really burning anything because I have nothing to burn on CDs anyway), within the next month or so. Times like these I wish I had a portable CD-player (this has only happened once before, when I wanted a CD-player for the SAT IIs).
But those things are boring. I mean, I have to do them, yes, but that doesn’t make them any more interesting to listen to. So, onwards to the exciting things in life!
Math run-offs tomorrow! As I was telling Gretchen (and Sonny, although I am not sure how much he was paying attention and how much he just didn’t want to run up the stairs and away from us) this morning, I have been waiting for this day for almost a month. Really. Ever since we got our packets. I need to go over some of the coordinate geometry stuff still, but the regular geometry is good, and trig (this month anyway) is also pretty easy.
Also looking forward to seeing who’s going to (most likely) make the A-team roster (for most of the time). Bryant, definitely, and probably Tybalt too. Then there’s Mario (he says he’s going to take the run-offs during some time on his own, although he might presumably drop by—that is, if he goes to school, because I haven’t seen him in class in days). Dino and Tea and Gretchen and Yuma? Are there any more seniors now?
Non-seniors, there’s definitely Argon, although I am not sure about Joss. Micro, yes (he’s pretty much guaranteed for this round unless he flunks). Summer and Cheryl and Reno and the others? Well, we need at least one more person. Might as well be one of them.
Math team speculation is always fun. You know what this reminds me of? Fantasy sports. Maybe we can make a fantasy math team and bet on it?
Other exciting/fun things. Okay, this is in the past tense, but my dad hosted a semi-party yesterday (they called it “lunch,” as the little eight-year-old girl who came over said her mom told her, but as we—Onion and I—aptly remarked, “lunch” with company usually means a meal that spans until 7PM). My dad and some of the others started playing this weird card game that involves +10 points and “fishing for the suits,” whatever that means. So the three of us (Onion, little girl, and me) started playing some card game that I know how to play but have no idea what it’s called, while two other little girls sat/jumped on my bed. Then we went to play “Playing with Fire” on my laptop, then a few Orisinal games (they are the cutest ever), then slime tennis (which I won multiple times because Onion did not know how to serve), then Silversphere.
Then, when the little girls left, we started watching Youtube videos, most notably the Back Dorm Boys, Ultimate Showdown, Hamster Dance, and the Shamwoohoo. Onion then said that Taylor Swift’s music videos are weird (he is basing this off Love Story and the one where Swift plays the girl who’s got a million outfits in her closet and writes on a notepad her messages to her neighbor crush). All I can say is he has never been exposed to the world of weird music videos. Really.
So I showed/dissected-for him Rain’s Love Story for starters (guy in black suit wiggling his butt and having a girl vacuum all over him), then DBSK’s videos (Wrong Number—dipping phone in a glass of wine; O—semi-fantasy world where all five guys go, “Oooh, look at the birdies!” while everyone else vanishes; Triangle—bunch of fantasy fighters dancing and then some angel descends from the sky amongst a crowd in tin-foil hats), then Big Bang’s videos (Lies—girl kills boy-who-she-doesn’t-really-like with pineapple; Haru Haru—guy gets rejected by long-term girlfriend so he goes smashing things and tearing pillows apart).
We then decided we had enough of weird music videos (pity, I haven’t gotten to SHINee’s rainbow prism dance one yet), so we searched up Harry Potter versions of Tik Tok and ended with some quality OceanLab (you can’t beat OceanLab, really).
And when my Youtube minutes ran out on Chrome, we played Crazy Eights. It lasted well over an hour and when his parents finally ended the card game with my dad, we still had not finished. But it was too late (past midnight) so we never got to finish that game. Oh well. I was losing anyway.
Then this morning I thought I had missed the bus, because I woke up two minutes before the bus was supposed to come, but then I realized my clock is five minutes early, so I quickly got dressed and ran out the door, effectively waking up my parents (although I didn’t know that then).
For entertainment purposes, I suggest you go through all of the Youtube videos I’ve suggested (well, maybe not the weird MVs) unless you’ve seen them before. Especially the Back Dorm Boys. The one where they lip-synch to “We Will Rock You.” I’d link, but: a) it’s really hard to miss; and b) if I search it up I’ll get distracted and I won’t get anything done tonight.
There is a utexas due for Friday, and although at least we do not have 40 questions long utexases (what would the plural of utexas be?) anymore, they are getting harder (no more concepts MCs), so they also take quite some time. The lab for bio from last week is now due next week, because there is a part II (yay for growing algae!) upcoming tomorrow and Wednesday. I have 12 CDs worth of a novel to burn through (well, okay, I am not really burning anything because I have nothing to burn on CDs anyway), within the next month or so. Times like these I wish I had a portable CD-player (this has only happened once before, when I wanted a CD-player for the SAT IIs).
But those things are boring. I mean, I have to do them, yes, but that doesn’t make them any more interesting to listen to. So, onwards to the exciting things in life!
Math run-offs tomorrow! As I was telling Gretchen (and Sonny, although I am not sure how much he was paying attention and how much he just didn’t want to run up the stairs and away from us) this morning, I have been waiting for this day for almost a month. Really. Ever since we got our packets. I need to go over some of the coordinate geometry stuff still, but the regular geometry is good, and trig (this month anyway) is also pretty easy.
Also looking forward to seeing who’s going to (most likely) make the A-team roster (for most of the time). Bryant, definitely, and probably Tybalt too. Then there’s Mario (he says he’s going to take the run-offs during some time on his own, although he might presumably drop by—that is, if he goes to school, because I haven’t seen him in class in days). Dino and Tea and Gretchen and Yuma? Are there any more seniors now?
Non-seniors, there’s definitely Argon, although I am not sure about Joss. Micro, yes (he’s pretty much guaranteed for this round unless he flunks). Summer and Cheryl and Reno and the others? Well, we need at least one more person. Might as well be one of them.
Math team speculation is always fun. You know what this reminds me of? Fantasy sports. Maybe we can make a fantasy math team and bet on it?
Other exciting/fun things. Okay, this is in the past tense, but my dad hosted a semi-party yesterday (they called it “lunch,” as the little eight-year-old girl who came over said her mom told her, but as we—Onion and I—aptly remarked, “lunch” with company usually means a meal that spans until 7PM). My dad and some of the others started playing this weird card game that involves +10 points and “fishing for the suits,” whatever that means. So the three of us (Onion, little girl, and me) started playing some card game that I know how to play but have no idea what it’s called, while two other little girls sat/jumped on my bed. Then we went to play “Playing with Fire” on my laptop, then a few Orisinal games (they are the cutest ever), then slime tennis (which I won multiple times because Onion did not know how to serve), then Silversphere.
Then, when the little girls left, we started watching Youtube videos, most notably the Back Dorm Boys, Ultimate Showdown, Hamster Dance, and the Shamwoohoo. Onion then said that Taylor Swift’s music videos are weird (he is basing this off Love Story and the one where Swift plays the girl who’s got a million outfits in her closet and writes on a notepad her messages to her neighbor crush). All I can say is he has never been exposed to the world of weird music videos. Really.
So I showed/dissected-for him Rain’s Love Story for starters (guy in black suit wiggling his butt and having a girl vacuum all over him), then DBSK’s videos (Wrong Number—dipping phone in a glass of wine; O—semi-fantasy world where all five guys go, “Oooh, look at the birdies!” while everyone else vanishes; Triangle—bunch of fantasy fighters dancing and then some angel descends from the sky amongst a crowd in tin-foil hats), then Big Bang’s videos (Lies—girl kills boy-who-she-doesn’t-really-like with pineapple; Haru Haru—guy gets rejected by long-term girlfriend so he goes smashing things and tearing pillows apart).
We then decided we had enough of weird music videos (pity, I haven’t gotten to SHINee’s rainbow prism dance one yet), so we searched up Harry Potter versions of Tik Tok and ended with some quality OceanLab (you can’t beat OceanLab, really).
And when my Youtube minutes ran out on Chrome, we played Crazy Eights. It lasted well over an hour and when his parents finally ended the card game with my dad, we still had not finished. But it was too late (past midnight) so we never got to finish that game. Oh well. I was losing anyway.
Then this morning I thought I had missed the bus, because I woke up two minutes before the bus was supposed to come, but then I realized my clock is five minutes early, so I quickly got dressed and ran out the door, effectively waking up my parents (although I didn’t know that then).
For entertainment purposes, I suggest you go through all of the Youtube videos I’ve suggested (well, maybe not the weird MVs) unless you’ve seen them before. Especially the Back Dorm Boys. The one where they lip-synch to “We Will Rock You.” I’d link, but: a) it’s really hard to miss; and b) if I search it up I’ll get distracted and I won’t get anything done tonight.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
It's a Small, Small World
My parents went out today to get my dad's passport photos taken, but since we have Canadian passports, he had to get specific pictures that have to abide by a host of rules. Like certain size requirements, no hands in pictures, no tilted faces, and of course, no smiles. I don't know why, but these requirements somehow makes for ugly pictures. I have always hated my passport photos with a passion.
Anyway, because his photo had to follow those rules, he couldn't get them from the post office (which normally takes photos for US passports). Instead, my parents went to find a professional photographer, and I presume explain the rules to take a custom picture.
They came back an hour or so later, and as my mom walked in she asked, "Was there a freshman in your English class sophomore year?"
I, obviously confused, said, "No. Why?"
"The son of our photographer said he was in your English class freshman year. What's his name again—Camet—wait, let's see if you recognize the last name from the business card."
She took the card out, and I realized it was Cameron. We never shared an English class together, but I was in his French class, so perhaps he confused the two. I mean, English, French. Big difference.
But speaking of Cameron. (I guess this is the pitfall of having nicknames that resemble real names.)
I had this typed up already.
. . .
Again with the thoughts.
. . .
I spent my car ride to the border (a good five or six hours, not including food time) and back thinking, as usual.
We left at 11 the night before, because my dad was intent on having me come back on time to finish my homework and other things I need to write. I was bringing the pillows and blankets out to the car, and I stared up at the sky, and it was breath-taking. I can’t see very well (I need new prescriptions for my glasses), but I could still make out a lot of the stars twinkling in the sky. (Although I have read somewhere, but I forgot where, that “twinkling” is not the best word to use in these situations because it implies happiness.) Silver-diamonds against a soft, satiny night.
I wanted to cry. I think I did.
There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but instead we drove towards that small Vermont town with the funny name and lies half-here, half-there. I slept for most of the way there, sat in a small room trying to eavesdrop on two people speaking French in front of me, then stared out the window on the way back. I thought I’d read awhile, but decided not to at the last minute.
There are some things you can’t say out loud.
. . .
These nights, I dream about running. I am running away from something—I don’t know what. I am just running, and someone, or something, is chasing me, and I must run as fast as I can and climb over fences and jump across rivers. I am fleeing, fleeing, and I am not fleeing fast enough. I am a goner, I think, I am going to die. I am in the panic between running and giving up, I want to scream, to shield myself from the inevitable, and then, and then, and then I wake up.
There is a lurching in my stomach, and maybe my heart, but that is it. The feeling fades. No more. Until the next time I am running, but I do not see the pattern until several nights in, when I wake up and there is a déjà vu moment, and I realize that I have been dreaming the same things all these nights.
. . .
I saw Cammie Thursday. At lunch, with Yuma. Upset over English, and many other things, and suddenly, she was there. In a black skirt.
I called out her name. She came and sat with us. We talked about some things. English, I think. Guidance stuff. Yuma asked about math. I am not sure how well I handled the situation. I was afraid to say anything beyond the trivial. Wasn’t sure what she wanted. Wasn’t sure if I could give it to her.
I would have wanted to forget, but that is because I am constantly running away from reality. I am not sure that is what everyone would want. I am not sure if that is even the best thing. If I make the best decisions. If it even matters, because I am not as rational as I would like to be (despite Mr. Wollen’s claims that we are all rational beings).
. . .
I cut across the the narrow gap between the two cars, and as I was walking, someone called, “What’s up?” I spun around, trying to look at who was talking, and tripped over the curb and fell. The car full of boys—no doubt it was them—laughed. I had never seen them before, but they were probably seniors (or maybe juniors, but then they would be conducting illegal business in driving each other around).
Thank you. I hadn’t realized I was so clumsy before. Thank you so much for reminding me.
They drove off. I do not know if they will remember me. I don’t think I’ll remember them. I was always bad with faces.
It’s a good thing. I wouldn’t know what to say even if I did see them again.
. . .
Gretchen said that Tea looked nerdy. And that I looked smart. And that Bryant looked both nerdy and smart. I would say that Bryant always looks like he can read my mind. Every time I am doing something, and I catch his gaze, he looks like he can see some deep, dark secret I have (and I don’t have any, or at least I’m not thinking of any when I happen to be around him), and I freak out and look away.
It is getting on my nerves. He needs to stop staring at people like that. Unless he does it on purpose, to make people think he knows more than he actually does. Or he can actually read my mind, and oh my god that is not good.
I am considering transferring into his English class (not the best decision, according to him, but the other choice is Brit Lit and there is someone there I would rather not be with right now). I don’t think I will—Caribbean is not my favorite style of writing—and I don’t really want to leave my English class right now either.
But if I did, and I changed my bio class into period 8 (because then it would be free), then I would share 3.5 classes with Bryant, and maybe 4 if I changed my area studies. It is all possible, although all unlikely. With Bryant, I am unwilling to sacrifice too much. Or maybe I am, in general, unwilling to sacrifice too much now. Because there is too much pain associated with sacrificing. And it won't always end well.
. . .
This week was awful. Beyond awful, but I don't have words to describe it. But I have figured out both equations to my take-home portion of the multi test, and that is due next week, so I am grasping onto hope (even if I only have a few strands of it). I am hoping tomorrow (and the next week, and the next month, and the next year) will be better.
After all, tomorrow is another day.
Anyway, because his photo had to follow those rules, he couldn't get them from the post office (which normally takes photos for US passports). Instead, my parents went to find a professional photographer, and I presume explain the rules to take a custom picture.
They came back an hour or so later, and as my mom walked in she asked, "Was there a freshman in your English class sophomore year?"
I, obviously confused, said, "No. Why?"
"The son of our photographer said he was in your English class freshman year. What's his name again—Camet—wait, let's see if you recognize the last name from the business card."
She took the card out, and I realized it was Cameron. We never shared an English class together, but I was in his French class, so perhaps he confused the two. I mean, English, French. Big difference.
But speaking of Cameron. (I guess this is the pitfall of having nicknames that resemble real names.)
I had this typed up already.
. . .
Again with the thoughts.
. . .
I spent my car ride to the border (a good five or six hours, not including food time) and back thinking, as usual.
We left at 11 the night before, because my dad was intent on having me come back on time to finish my homework and other things I need to write. I was bringing the pillows and blankets out to the car, and I stared up at the sky, and it was breath-taking. I can’t see very well (I need new prescriptions for my glasses), but I could still make out a lot of the stars twinkling in the sky. (Although I have read somewhere, but I forgot where, that “twinkling” is not the best word to use in these situations because it implies happiness.) Silver-diamonds against a soft, satiny night.
I wanted to cry. I think I did.
There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but instead we drove towards that small Vermont town with the funny name and lies half-here, half-there. I slept for most of the way there, sat in a small room trying to eavesdrop on two people speaking French in front of me, then stared out the window on the way back. I thought I’d read awhile, but decided not to at the last minute.
There are some things you can’t say out loud.
. . .
These nights, I dream about running. I am running away from something—I don’t know what. I am just running, and someone, or something, is chasing me, and I must run as fast as I can and climb over fences and jump across rivers. I am fleeing, fleeing, and I am not fleeing fast enough. I am a goner, I think, I am going to die. I am in the panic between running and giving up, I want to scream, to shield myself from the inevitable, and then, and then, and then I wake up.
There is a lurching in my stomach, and maybe my heart, but that is it. The feeling fades. No more. Until the next time I am running, but I do not see the pattern until several nights in, when I wake up and there is a déjà vu moment, and I realize that I have been dreaming the same things all these nights.
. . .
I saw Cammie Thursday. At lunch, with Yuma. Upset over English, and many other things, and suddenly, she was there. In a black skirt.
I called out her name. She came and sat with us. We talked about some things. English, I think. Guidance stuff. Yuma asked about math. I am not sure how well I handled the situation. I was afraid to say anything beyond the trivial. Wasn’t sure what she wanted. Wasn’t sure if I could give it to her.
I would have wanted to forget, but that is because I am constantly running away from reality. I am not sure that is what everyone would want. I am not sure if that is even the best thing. If I make the best decisions. If it even matters, because I am not as rational as I would like to be (despite Mr. Wollen’s claims that we are all rational beings).
. . .
I cut across the the narrow gap between the two cars, and as I was walking, someone called, “What’s up?” I spun around, trying to look at who was talking, and tripped over the curb and fell. The car full of boys—no doubt it was them—laughed. I had never seen them before, but they were probably seniors (or maybe juniors, but then they would be conducting illegal business in driving each other around).
Thank you. I hadn’t realized I was so clumsy before. Thank you so much for reminding me.
They drove off. I do not know if they will remember me. I don’t think I’ll remember them. I was always bad with faces.
It’s a good thing. I wouldn’t know what to say even if I did see them again.
. . .
Gretchen said that Tea looked nerdy. And that I looked smart. And that Bryant looked both nerdy and smart. I would say that Bryant always looks like he can read my mind. Every time I am doing something, and I catch his gaze, he looks like he can see some deep, dark secret I have (and I don’t have any, or at least I’m not thinking of any when I happen to be around him), and I freak out and look away.
It is getting on my nerves. He needs to stop staring at people like that. Unless he does it on purpose, to make people think he knows more than he actually does. Or he can actually read my mind, and oh my god that is not good.
I am considering transferring into his English class (not the best decision, according to him, but the other choice is Brit Lit and there is someone there I would rather not be with right now). I don’t think I will—Caribbean is not my favorite style of writing—and I don’t really want to leave my English class right now either.
But if I did, and I changed my bio class into period 8 (because then it would be free), then I would share 3.5 classes with Bryant, and maybe 4 if I changed my area studies. It is all possible, although all unlikely. With Bryant, I am unwilling to sacrifice too much. Or maybe I am, in general, unwilling to sacrifice too much now. Because there is too much pain associated with sacrificing. And it won't always end well.
. . .
This week was awful. Beyond awful, but I don't have words to describe it. But I have figured out both equations to my take-home portion of the multi test, and that is due next week, so I am grasping onto hope (even if I only have a few strands of it). I am hoping tomorrow (and the next week, and the next month, and the next year) will be better.
After all, tomorrow is another day.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A New Year, A New... Math Team?
I thought that an explanation of math team rules would be good for anyone who is not familiar with the system, because it can be confusing. However, it appears that a readily available version of the rules online is hard to find, because on my first try all I found was this Massachusetts Mathematics League (MML) site, which mentions:
MIAA is the Massachusetts Interscholastic Athletic Association. Fitting, considering it's been proven before that math is definitely a sport.
Of course, I found the rules on Choate's site later (why does their school have a website for math team and we don't? I think this is one of the reasons why we have so few underclassmen). As it mentions, NEAML's rules are the same as the CSAML rules, which are the same as our rules (except for no calculators on team round and we follow small-school rules regardless of size). As it also mentions, "Postgraduates are not permitted to compete in the NEAML contest."
This is apparently very important, because in 1989, one school had no idea such an unwritten rule (at the time) existed and brought a postgraduate, so they won 89 points as opposed to the 50+ points the next best school had. And this rule was only enforced since 2005.
Yay for math team trivia!
Anyway, I am talking about all of this because we had math team today! I had no idea, though, until I met with Argon during lunch and he said that Micro told him. Apparently either Bryant or Tybalt was supposed to call me (this is from Ms. Sherbert, so I am not sure how well that was executed), but that is probably impossible because: a) they do not have my phone number, and b) I am not in the directory, so they can't even find me if they wanted to. Which they most likely did not, because I saw Bryant and/or Tybalt multiple times today, and they mentioned no such thing.
This lack of information also spread to "the girls," as they are now called, so at least it's not just me. And, of course, because they were not there, Argon and Micro were the only non-seniors, and that is problematic, because we can only have three seniors.
On round sign-up, so many people chose the latter rounds, so competition will probably be tough. Not that it was any surprise—there's Bryant (who will most likely always go), Tybalt, and then there's I-don't-know-about-Mario. I saw him earlier, so maybe he did not get the message either. I am aiming for geometry, as always (I don't understand why people don't like that round), and I am slightly better at coordinate geometry now. Slightly. I did one of the problems relatively quickly. Mass improvement.
I just hope the run-off questions won't be picked from past NEAML questions. Those tend to be significantly harder.
Of course, math team is also a social event. I got to see Yuma (okay, so I did share a free with him right before), Tea, Gretchen, Argon, and even Micro (who did not know that Yuma was called Yuma—he just knew what Yuma looked like). Dino also has a new, purple shirt. I like purple, and I guess it looks nice on him (although this is highly biased because by now I think anything not navy looks nice on him). Yuma also had a purple shirt, on Friday, and he had a new, grey shirt today. I like the new wardrobe change (well, I really, really like purple dress shirts and the like), which I think came from his trip to Taiwan. He also has a lot of new, cute things. Amazingly cute things.
Now why doesn't Bryant follow suit and get some new, non-back-full-of-distracting-designs shirts?
MML follows the guidelines set forth by MIAA/MSSAA (www.miaa.net).
MIAA is the Massachusetts Interscholastic Athletic Association. Fitting, considering it's been proven before that math is definitely a sport.
Of course, I found the rules on Choate's site later (why does their school have a website for math team and we don't? I think this is one of the reasons why we have so few underclassmen). As it mentions, NEAML's rules are the same as the CSAML rules, which are the same as our rules (except for no calculators on team round and we follow small-school rules regardless of size). As it also mentions, "Postgraduates are not permitted to compete in the NEAML contest."
This is apparently very important, because in 1989, one school had no idea such an unwritten rule (at the time) existed and brought a postgraduate, so they won 89 points as opposed to the 50+ points the next best school had. And this rule was only enforced since 2005.
Yay for math team trivia!
Anyway, I am talking about all of this because we had math team today! I had no idea, though, until I met with Argon during lunch and he said that Micro told him. Apparently either Bryant or Tybalt was supposed to call me (this is from Ms. Sherbert, so I am not sure how well that was executed), but that is probably impossible because: a) they do not have my phone number, and b) I am not in the directory, so they can't even find me if they wanted to. Which they most likely did not, because I saw Bryant and/or Tybalt multiple times today, and they mentioned no such thing.
This lack of information also spread to "the girls," as they are now called, so at least it's not just me. And, of course, because they were not there, Argon and Micro were the only non-seniors, and that is problematic, because we can only have three seniors.
On round sign-up, so many people chose the latter rounds, so competition will probably be tough. Not that it was any surprise—there's Bryant (who will most likely always go), Tybalt, and then there's I-don't-know-about-Mario. I saw him earlier, so maybe he did not get the message either. I am aiming for geometry, as always (I don't understand why people don't like that round), and I am slightly better at coordinate geometry now. Slightly. I did one of the problems relatively quickly. Mass improvement.
I just hope the run-off questions won't be picked from past NEAML questions. Those tend to be significantly harder.
Of course, math team is also a social event. I got to see Yuma (okay, so I did share a free with him right before), Tea, Gretchen, Argon, and even Micro (who did not know that Yuma was called Yuma—he just knew what Yuma looked like). Dino also has a new, purple shirt. I like purple, and I guess it looks nice on him (although this is highly biased because by now I think anything not navy looks nice on him). Yuma also had a purple shirt, on Friday, and he had a new, grey shirt today. I like the new wardrobe change (well, I really, really like purple dress shirts and the like), which I think came from his trip to Taiwan. He also has a lot of new, cute things. Amazingly cute things.
Now why doesn't Bryant follow suit and get some new, non-back-full-of-distracting-designs shirts?
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, August 4, 2010
August Is A Good Month
For stocks, anyway, and only historically. At least that was what CNBC said. Their explanation was because numerous U.S. government officials take extended leaves during August, which is apparently good for investors in general. I am not quite sure why that is, and so far this month's data does not support that theory, although there is definitely not enough data to make any substantial conclusion.
[Don't even get me started on that commentary about Paul the Octopus and the atrocious claim that an 80% success rate meant if you succeeded four times, you have to fail your fifth time. It makes me shudder every time I think about it.
Also, on a related note, I talked with Argon after he came back from his trip to Spain, and he mention—or more like hinted at—the craziness when Spain won the World Cup.]
For me, August doesn't mean stocks. It means: a) I am endangering numerous people/properties/roads because I now have my permit and am testing the waters, if you will (it would be cool to drive through water someday); and b) the Common Application is out. I know I have been asked by Tea to not remind her about this, so, Tea, if you're reading this, just skip pretty much the rest of the post. Sorry.
So far I have added the list of colleges I'm applying to ("definitely Penn, and MIT, and Princeton, and, uh, do I want Duke?"), filled out all the little details about myself, my parents ("wait, the schools my parents went to don't have CEEB codes"), my academia-related adventures ("how do I fill out my course load for next year when I don't even know it for sure yet?"), and my possible career future ("undecided, or more commonly known as anything-that-involves-statistical-math-and-neurobiology-and-chemistry-and-maybe-psychology-and-philosophy-and-I-would-like-some-economics-as-well-and-what-do-you-mean-that's-impossible"). I haven't filled out my extracurriculars yet ("next to none, ouch"), nor have I explained how I spent my past two summers catching up on classwork and otherwise not doing stuff like finding the cure to cancer or ending world hunger (but of course, I can't do that yet, because curing cancer is Penn's ticket to becoming as "famed" as Wharton, who apparently, but don't quote me on it, loathes to associate with Penn).
All in all, it's good. Now to churn out around twenty essays and short answers, and I will be all peachy. Thank the College Admissions God (henceforth known as the CAG) that the Canadian schools don't require any essays (nor do they look for any intellectual exploration outside of school). Washington University (the St. Louis one) doesn't either, but their scholarships do.
I guess there truly is no such thing as a free-of-supplementary-essays application.
Basically this is me wasting brain cells writing something admissions people will never see instead of writing my essay. I think I should really make an alternate copy of my common application and add my blog address into the "additional information" section, and submit it to some impossible school (I'm thinking Harvard, it doesn't require a supplement essay). I mean, this blog is probably more indicative of my personality and life than any over-250-and-under-1000-words essay I can ever write.
Alas, life doesn't work that way. (Also, Harvard would probably not appreciate the fact that I'm considering Penn over it.)
So I should probably end this now and get back to staring at my application essay instead.
[Don't even get me started on that commentary about Paul the Octopus and the atrocious claim that an 80% success rate meant if you succeeded four times, you have to fail your fifth time. It makes me shudder every time I think about it.
Also, on a related note, I talked with Argon after he came back from his trip to Spain, and he mention—or more like hinted at—the craziness when Spain won the World Cup.]
For me, August doesn't mean stocks. It means: a) I am endangering numerous people/properties/roads because I now have my permit and am testing the waters, if you will (it would be cool to drive through water someday); and b) the Common Application is out. I know I have been asked by Tea to not remind her about this, so, Tea, if you're reading this, just skip pretty much the rest of the post. Sorry.
So far I have added the list of colleges I'm applying to ("definitely Penn, and MIT, and Princeton, and, uh, do I want Duke?"), filled out all the little details about myself, my parents ("wait, the schools my parents went to don't have CEEB codes"), my academia-related adventures ("how do I fill out my course load for next year when I don't even know it for sure yet?"), and my possible career future ("undecided, or more commonly known as anything-that-involves-statistical-math-and-neurobiology-and-chemistry-and-maybe-psychology-and-philosophy-and-I-would-like-some-economics-as-well-and-what-do-you-mean-that's-impossible"). I haven't filled out my extracurriculars yet ("next to none, ouch"), nor have I explained how I spent my past two summers catching up on classwork and otherwise not doing stuff like finding the cure to cancer or ending world hunger (but of course, I can't do that yet, because curing cancer is Penn's ticket to becoming as "famed" as Wharton, who apparently, but don't quote me on it, loathes to associate with Penn).
All in all, it's good. Now to churn out around twenty essays and short answers, and I will be all peachy. Thank the College Admissions God (henceforth known as the CAG) that the Canadian schools don't require any essays (nor do they look for any intellectual exploration outside of school). Washington University (the St. Louis one) doesn't either, but their scholarships do.
I guess there truly is no such thing as a free-of-supplementary-essays application.
Basically this is me wasting brain cells writing something admissions people will never see instead of writing my essay. I think I should really make an alternate copy of my common application and add my blog address into the "additional information" section, and submit it to some impossible school (I'm thinking Harvard, it doesn't require a supplement essay). I mean, this blog is probably more indicative of my personality and life than any over-250-and-under-1000-words essay I can ever write.
Alas, life doesn't work that way. (Also, Harvard would probably not appreciate the fact that I'm considering Penn over it.)
So I should probably end this now and get back to staring at my application essay instead.
