Generalizations And My Inherent Laziness

When I say "I don't know," half the time I do know, but I feel disinclined to say what I know out loud. It has been a point of contention between my parents and me. They have been trying to get me to say every thought I have, instead of keeping them all within my head.

It doesn't work that way, I want to tell them, but that would require actually saying the words out loud, and that is exactly the problem.

A vicious cycle.

I have been wondering lately if I have been turning this blog into a diary. There are so many "thoughts" posts, and not enough "events" posts or "story" posts. So much inner monologue. Like Hamlet.

So to make amends I will talk about math team, as I have promised (many, many times).

. . .

Since our last math meet was also Argon's birthday, Yuma and I tried out this really cool cake mix and whipped cream cookies recipe. Except it turned out to be more like cake. I think it was because we put all the batter on one tray, because we were running out of time, so the resulting glob of stuff was too thick and therefore did not have cookie chewy/crunchy consistency.

Oh well. It was still really delicious.

On the bus ride to Spearheadville, Bryant, Tybalt, and Dino started talking about college. Which reminds me, Penn's ED results are out next Friday! Can you believe it? Less than a week away! It is both exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time, and I don't know (really) which one is winning right now.

Anyway, college has definitely overtaken our lives. Perhaps things will get better in a month or so?

Once there, we found our normal banished-to-the-corner tables, and started our normal soda-talk, commonly known as, "Did you know there is partially brominated fats in opaque-looking sodas?" And then everyone at the table deciding to drink only the transparent sodas. And then Grob coming over and grabbing the one soda with said fats in it.

We had a short-lived discussion on whether Grob will turn out okay after freshman year, as Micro had. I sure hope so. And maybe he will start taking those headphones out of his ears, because he is missing crucial advice (we did warn him about the soda, but he didn't hear).

Then came the actual competition (and food). I did rather horribly this time, but the questions (matrices aside) were really fun. Team round too, although I didn't really like the geometry question this time. Too much guessing and checking.

I did my French homework after that, so I missed out on lots of conversation (but I did catch Tybalt showing Argon, Reno, and Summer the projectile launch lab—the one with the moving car—because they were doing stationary target launches).

That is all I really remember for now. Oh, and the bus ride home, but that was self-explanatory and I actually don't remember much from it anyway.

What You Should Never Do

If you're unlike me and wish to not fall into awkward situations, that is. (If the previous statement does not hold true for you, by all means, do whatever you want.)

Never, ever find yourself in a compromising position five minutes before the bell rings for the end of school. Near a door that many, many people use to exit school grounds.

Or, you know, be in any compromising position, ever. Especially not in your econ class.

But I digress.

Anyway. I had a much more emotional post, but I thought that would bring a damper onto an already much-depressed blog, so I will sum it up in one sentence, "My parents think I'm rather apathetic but that's okay." There was much more detailed analysis that went into that post, but said analysis made everything too melancholy for my tastes, so you, as my wonderful reader, now have the watered down version.

Also did you know I am extremely ticklish in all but the only two places people would probably never tickle me in? I never knew that before. Just goes to show you learn new things every day.

Since we're already on random idea-jumping topics, I have decided that I am going to wear a math/science/tech-related shirt every day of the week this week. So far I've worn the varsity math shirt and the robotics shirt, and I have the shirts for the rest of the week all planned out now! I also never knew I had access to so many geeky shirts. This is amazing.

And since we are talking about geeky things, there is a math meet tomorrow! I am so excited. And I will promise that this time I will not skimp out on the descriptions and I will try to actually talk about what happened, instead of simply going over vague things. Although math meets aren't as generalizing-hilarious now that both Mario and Irving aren't here anymore.

No more "Irving, BATHROOM?" jokes. Such a pity.

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.

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.

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's chicken-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.

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.

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.

October: A Prelude

I have found it increasingly harder to write about things that haven't happened at all, and much easier to write about things that have at least happened in part. I am not sure why—the other day, I was trying to write a story to keep my mind off upcoming college essays (because that is all I think about now), and I just couldn't do it. The beginning sounded weird, and I just couldn't go on from there.

I am exhausted, too, from all the work. I had a test in bio (yay for organelles), which took half an hour, and for the next fifteen minutes it was so hard to focus. It could also be because I don't have my chapter 7 notes, or that I just find it hard to focus in bio in general. The powerpoints make me drowsy, and there is so little math right now (I don't know if this will change). Also, I wish that this one girl in my class would just stop asking questions. I mean, I know, questions are good, but a question every other slide? Is that really necessary?

I also find it really hard to focus in econ, but I think I can manage bursts of attentiveness, so I use the lapses in-between to doodle on Yuma's or Joss's (again with the possessives) notebook. It has so far worked out really well. I am also participating a lot more, so I think Mr. Wollen has not realized my periodic lack of attention.

Anyway, I mentioned all of this (with every paragraph starting with an "I") to state what I think will be the pace for the rest of October. So, yes, I am mostly done with my common app, I am mostly done with my Penn essay, and I am half done with my Chicago essays, but there is still so much more to do. Plus I have to remember that I have two umbrellas left in my locker. I keep forgetting them.

There are, of course, happy bits stuck in-between. Relaxing times. There is math team (first meet of the year this Wednesday! can't wait), and science bowl is very, very exciting too. There is all this stuff that I can get done in my free, even though I have so much fun too. I am reading my daily dose of webcomics (both nerdy and not). Following tons of blogs. Reading lots of Middle East news (the class is doing wonders for my awareness of the area).

(This list of "relaxing" things is probably not very relaxing to many people.)

Regardless. I think I'm having a lot of fun. If I were metaphorical (and I am, but I'm not very good with music so I can't think of much to connect this back to the "prelude"), I would be talking about some musical piece right now. About how the sad, solemn pieces are broken apart by franticly happy parts. Or maybe my music of life is just set at a really fast tempo right now. Reminds me of that tango music we played back in grade eight (the one with all that plucking that gave my thumb blisters). Or maybe even "Amadeus." Don't remember much, though. I was rather glad to be rid of my music classes.

And amidst all of these musical analogies, let's hope Thursdays come by quickly. (Well, I'm also hoping 1st semester never ends, but I don't think many people hold that same hope.)

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:

• 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.

And uninteresting things? All that work I've got to do, plus I'm reading Suicide Note right now, and it's 1905 pages long (almost twice as long as GWTW), so that will most likely take me a while (I'm also taking notes, and I don't have a lot of time to spare, so it's definitely taking me a long time to even read the first 20+ pages, when the first 10 or so pages are the table of contents).

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.

Never Make Promises You Can't Keep

Or, in my case, never make promises, period. Apparently I'm really good at attracting last-minute change in plans, because this has happened to me quite often in the past week. There was Tuesday, when I promised to get math packets for Summer and Cheryl, and then conveniently Ms. Sherbert ran out of packets. Then today, when I told Zephy that: a) I can go to fashion/jewelry/whatever-it-is-now club on Wednesday, and b) I'll be able to give her a ride home tomorrow.

Guess what?

My dad has a dentist's appointment tomorrow, all the way in New York (the state), and it's in the afternoon and my mom is going as well, so they're coming back later at night. If the weather's nice tomorrow, though, I won't mind walking. It's just—

My mom also told me today that we're going all the way up to Vermont on Wednesday to get our visas straightened out (since my dad is planning to move to Florida and everything). That is going to be fun. I'll be missing extended multi, which is rather sad, but I'll also be missing crucial review-day-before-first-test physics, which is not good at all since I'm aiming for that pencil. And I'll be missing a bio lab, which is also not good, because I am rather bad at reading bio labs. The actual labs themselves make sense. The boggy text, not so much.

But enough about my future. Today, in econ, we talked about the classic guns and butter, otherwise known as the production possibilities frontier. It was pretty easy to understand (especially the part about cows making guns), and I loved the graphs. Graphs are so nice when I don't have to draw them by hand. After econ was French, and since that was uneventful (my French teacher is almost always late to class, probably because she has to go from the first floor to the third floor, so I spend the extra time trying to look into Mrs. Cumulonimbus's class), then I went to English. Cammie wasn't here today, and we had an in-class essay.

I was freaking out (a little) about the in-class essay, because I usually don't finish those on time (or I write not so much compared to other people), but this time I actually finished ahead of time with a neat conclusion and everything. So I am surprised and not quite sure where this newfound skill in essay-writing came from, but I will assume it's because we're writing more in class now (we get free-write minutes before every class, which is really cool).

Then, on the bus, I discussed the chem test with Yuma (something about X and F, and I remember that remotely but definitely not enough to know the answer without doing the question out). I still miss chem. A lot. I wish there was a period 7 chem class, so I can drop by and say hi and everything. Oh well. Can't have everything in life.

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:

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?

All Sentimental

I am in a classroom, that I am sure of. There are rows of wooden desks and chairs—plank-like chairs that wobble and should not be chairs, should be a bookshelf instead, or a makeshift lock for backyard glass doors—and for a moment I think I am in China, because that is where I had seen plank chairs before. But it cannot be, because I see Paperclip people around me, Hank and one of his perverted, awkward teenage boy friends, and there is Dino, and Sonny, and I strain to see my friends, but I cannot find any.

So instead I walk up to Dino, and Sonny (as an afterthought, perhaps), and I say, "Hello."

My vowels are crisp. I say my "hello" with the "eh" and not as "hullo," and it somehow matters. My way of saying things, that is close, but not quite what I want it to be.

I do not remember if Dino says anything back. Sonny does, though. "Hi." Maybe a "how are you doing?" but that would be pushing it, I think. We are not that close.

We talk, the three of us, about things that do not matter, and I am talking just because I want to talk. Because I am running away from what I really should be doing, things that do matter, and I think Sonny senses it, because he asks me, "Should you be doing something?"

"Like what?" I ask, pretending to be coy.

"I don't know."

And this honesty shocks me, this admitting that he only knew a fleeting moment, but not anything substantial. And it makes Dino laugh, his cruel, monotone laugh, and I think that it is this laugh that I have fallen in love with, not his hair, or his eyes, or his back, or whatever else I have proclaimed it to be.

"There is a competition," I say, "French. I won, but I haven't gotten the scholarship yet. Haven't gone to pick it up."

It is a silly thing to hide. Silly me. Silly running away, not facing the truth. I do not know why it was so important that I not go and get what should be mine.

"Well, you should go, then," Sonny says.

I shook my head. "I don't want to," I say, while looking at Dino. I wanted him to be chivalrous, for once, and say, "I'll go with you."

Instead, it is Sonny who says that, while Dino just shrugs and laughs again. Sonny who pulls me into his arms, hugging me so tightly I am reminded of Vincent, remotely, and I hug him back, all calmed down, ready to tackle this apparently difficult task of grabbing for what really, really should be mine.

. . .

Then there are gender-bending moments, and I am a guy, and Sonny—or I think it is still him—is now a girl. We are a little cute, the two of us, together, wandering the halls, and I am not sure we know exactly where it is we are going. There are rooms, yes. Lots of offices. People. I ask for directions, and I get answers, but I forget them immediately and instead I try out every room until I think I have the right one. And then I forget what it is I am asking for, and I try to think of anything French, and I say Le petit prince, although that cannot be the right answer, and I know it even as I say it out loud.

Then my mom is calling me. She is. She says, "Ginny," although of course she does not really say Ginny, but my Chinese nickname instead. I think I responded, but I must have forgotten to, because she calls my name again.

And I wake up, and it is all gone. The hallway, the French, Sonny, the plank-chairs.

I can still feel Sonny's arms around me though, even if I know he is not a hugging kind of person. I cannot imagine Sonny hugging anyone, at least not now, and when he does it will probably be someone who is cheerful, and innocent, and not full of unspoken mysteries and little not-necessary lies. I am a little sad that I will not be able to know what his arms are like, but only a little. Barely there.

. . .

I am reading Anne Enright's The Gathering right now. The story itself has some mad quality to it, some dream-like appearance that is real but not reality. The reality is strange, detached, almost unreal, and the only things that are concrete are the blasphemies that were never real to begin with.

A softening of reality's jarring edges.

I have written before that I do not like reality, because it is too painful, and I do not like pain. I am constantly running away from pain, and maybe this is a wake-up call, that I am a hypocrite, because running away from pain and running toward Dino and his cruel laughs and this dream of golden blue are two very contradicting things. He is he and I am I, and in my dreams, at least, I am—despite my little not-necessary lies—as straightforward and innocent as I ever will be. In my dreams, I am capable of accepting someone who genuinely cares. In my dreams, I am able to stare into Sonny's eyes and not think about Dino, not think about how I wish everything were different.

In my dreams, I am content. And it is not reality, but it is real. Real enough, for me.

. . .

School is starting in over a week. On Wednesday. I still remember the first day of summer vacation, or the first half-day, anyway. I went to arena, got all the classes I wanted, then waited outside the front doors for an hour, talking to the people who came in and out, learning about the different schedules and feeling happy that everything, for me, anyway, worked out.

Then I walked over to the middle school, where I was meeting Argon, and I had taken off my shoes and was twirling in my white skirt, bare-footed, flip-flops on the side, and I felt the cool ground against my soles.

We were talking about math team. Gretchen was there, as was Mario, and Dino. I hated to admit it, but Mario and Dino did most of the introducing, the information-giving, and I thought to myself, "I am not really necessary here."

And then I thought about Matt and Kyle and Trevor, and Elaine, and all of the seniors, and I think, "They are not really necessary, either." They can be here, but if they were never here to begin with I do not think any of us would miss them. I think someone would have replaced them easily, and we would never miss them until we know of their existence. I, for one, do not yearn for someone who does not yet exist. Someone so real in another world, perhaps, he does exist.

Of course, that was exactly two months ago. This will probably be my last post before school starts, and when it does, I will probably go back to what I have been blogging about all along, except perhaps with a lot more college things and a lot less ranting about junior year and research papers, because that is in the past. There will be busy weeks, and not so busy weeks where I am constantly writing things and not doing things, and where words, for once, speak louder than actions.

Somewhere along the way, I know I want to realize dreams. I know I will want to find my way through the tangled half-truths and sticky, snarling pieces of memories, and of course, there is also the farewell, but I do not like to think about that yet. Not yet. It is not time yet. And I should be most familiar with this path, this last year of forlornness and realizing and complicatedness that will invariably snake its way into my decisions and leave me regretting some small thing or another ten years from now, until I do not remember what it was and only remember the regret. But not yet.

. . .

Veronica Hegarty has to—and it is not a whiny, hopefully-will-be but an absolutely-must-be—fall in love with everyone she has sex with. I, in turn, have to fall in love with everyone who loves me. It is as though I have no choice in the matter. Of course, that is not true. I can fall in love with people who do not love me back, who will never love me back. But I absolutely-must-be have to fall in love with anyone who loves me. No exceptions.

This has, I suppose, made me brazen at times. A daring I-don't-give-a-damn-about-you that has propelled me into worlds I am not supposed to trespass, but I have broken far more rules than I care about. I have long ago blurred that fine line between love and affection, because it is impossible to love so many people at once without having to spread myself somewhat, to say "I love you," and make all the gestures, but to be unable to say, "I'll do anything for you," because there are way too many of you and only one of me.

And I am happy. I think I am, and that is all that matters, not whether I am actually happy or not. I think I am happy, and I will be.

As long as Sonny never reads this. That would be difficult to explain.

TOAST-Math Team Style, take OWEN

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


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

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

Step UN: Choose your character—>

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

Step DEUX: Read the RULES—>

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

Step TROIS: Choose your fate—>


2.) Owen

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

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

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

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


AAA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

AAB.

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

Instead, you watch in awe as Mario disintegrates.

Huh?

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

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

A purple bunny? What?

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

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

AAC.

"What's wrong, Mario?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

AAD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AAE.

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

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

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

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

Uh, what?

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

AAF.

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

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

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

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

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

"I—uh—you—" Irving sputters.

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

AAG.

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

"Uh—well, what—I mean—that—"

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

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

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

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

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

AAH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(AAI.)

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

"Mario, who's #4?"

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

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

Huh?

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

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

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

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

(AAJ.)

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

"Oh, hi, Bryant—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(AAK.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

(AAL.)

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

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

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

"Are you jealous of me?" Mario asks.

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


(AAN.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





THEEND.

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


QQUIT.

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

Busy, Busy, Really Busy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Math Team Isn't Math Team Without...

I'll try to recount the math team adventures as well as I can, but it is probably going to be a very difficult task. Especially the more, uh, interesting parts, for lack of a better word.

Anyway, Friday (the day of the New England math meet) was also our school's designated Day of Silence as well, so early Friday morning I met with my fellow DoS'ers outside the auditorium, enjoying our last few minutes of "talking time" before the actual "silence time" started.

Of course, our dismissal was after the first period, so when I came down to the main foyer, where Tea, Argon, Micro, Tybalt, and Bryant (who was in chem with me prior) were already there, I was still silent. We waited a while, and then Irving showed up. So now we were just missing Mario, which was sort of typical. Tea said that she did not see him during gym earlier, which launched speculations of whether we should find someone else to substitute him.

"Mario is probably going to show up right after someone else comes down," Tea said.

Irving went outside to call Mario, and returned with a quoted, "The king is coming." Well, now we were sure that Mario was coming and not stranded at some isolated Starbucks (although if only one of them was stuck, the others would still be able to come if they really wanted).

After another five or ten minutes of holding up three other schools (who were waiting in the bus outside), Mario arrived, and so we all filed out and onto the bus. Tea and I sat together, with Tybalt and Bryant to our left and Mario and Irving behind us. Remember, I was still silent at this time, and Tea, bored with only talking to herself, tried to make me talk. Finally, I drew a "nine" with my finger.

"What is that? A 'P'?" Tea asked. I shook my head and tried again. Tea imitated my motion and then said, "Nine? You're going to talk at nine?" To which I nodded.

"What time is it now?"

After asking Mario, we ascertained that we had twenty minutes to go. I spent those twenty minutes trying to explain a geometry question to Tybalt in pantomime, but it was not very helpful. After what was probably one of the longest twenty minutes of my life (I discovered later that those twenty-minute sections on the SATs are longer), it was finally nine.

Tea and I spent the rest of the bus ride playing word and alphabet games. Well, all the way to Providence anyway. We had trouble finding any sign that had the letter "J," "Q," and "Z," but I got lucky at the very end and found a sign ("Regency Plaza") that had both "Y" and "Z." Of course, Tea had finished long ago, but I had been stuck on the "Q," so I took much, much longer.

We came to a stop at Providence Place for lunch, but the first store we ever went into was the Apple store. There, near the door, were a whole table of iPads. Everyone immediately started playing on the fancy gadgets. Tea and I first played with the air hockey app, then the piano app, then this maze app with a small, silver ball that reminded me of Silversphere. After a while, we decided that food was more important, so we went upstairs (following Irving and everyone else, who seemed to know the way) to the food court.

Here was probably the most difficult part of the entire day: deciding what to eat.

I suggested using a random probability simulator, but then we saw the swivel chairs at this fast food place whose name I have conveniently forgotten, so we got food there instead. We sat on the swivel chair for a while, before one of the people behind the counter said, "The bar's only for full service," and promptly asked us to leave. Whatever "full-service food" meant aside, since we were out-casted by the Mario/Irving/Tybalt/Bryant group anyway, we went and found more high chairs and sat there instead while we ingested what had to be the fattiest food we'd ever eaten in days (if not weeks, but I think weeks is too long for me).

Then we went downstairs to the bookstore, where I bought a (pink, shiny) recorder. The line took a long time, so by the time we got out, everyone else was already in the bus, waiting for us. After we got on the bus, it took off, and then stuff happened here but I should be studying/coming up with the Santiago part of the trip in Chile so I'll stop here for now. I'm thinking of just cutting out everything that happened during the meet (since it wasn't nearly as fascinating) and just jump right to the bus ride back, but we'll see.

SATs

Are both boring and looooooooooooooooooong. And I am so glad they're over. And now I have to study for stat and calc. (And I know my second grade teacher always said, "Don't start a sentence with 'and,'" but I'm using them anyway.)

So I will be boring today and not have anything important to say. For anyone who was looking forward to a math meet story/transcript, the basic story can be distilled down to this string of words:

Bus ride there—>word games—>Providence mall w/ Apple store and expensive, fatty food—>arriving at the place—>actually doing the problems—>trailing Treeburg by two points—>team round—>still trailing Treeburg by two points—>bus ride back—>Micro won't stop talking—>Mario... uh, let's stop here. Yeah.

Anyway, I'll see if I can get something coherent put together after the calc test.

(P.S.: I've had my first search-engined visit—all the way from France!)

The Long-Awaited Math Team Runoffs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, Dino and his lies.

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How are we doing now?"

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

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

"So, there goes 159," Micro said.

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

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

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

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

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

"That will give us a solid B."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"—Paperclip High School!"

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

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

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

Or so I'd like to believe.)

Soda Is More Important Than Food (Math Adventures—Part III)

Continued from last time, where Micro had taken the last of the green tea candy (thankfully), and people started filing inside. We went through another twisty hallway, and landed in the cafeteria of what I shall call Turkey High School. It's about the same size as Paperclip's cafeteria, except it's circular (instead of the L-shape that seems to be our entire school's motif). On each table was a school's name on a piece of paper. We found our school's table, and everyone sat down, with Irving and Mario at one end and Micro, Argon, and me at the other end.

"I'm hungry," I complained. I really was hungry. I don't think I ate much for lunch.

"There are so many soda machines here," Bryant said, pointing to the soda machines scattered all over the edges of the cafeteria. "But none of them sells food."

"Really?"

"Yeah. There's one that sells ice cream though."

I went off in search of the ice cream machine, which was empty, alas. I also saw a display shelf that I assumed sold snacks, but a piece of paper taped onto the glass said "No snacks sold after 1:00." I circled around and came back to our table again to find Argon working on math packets again.

"So," Micro said, "is anyone going to teach me synthetic division?"

"Bryant," Dino said. Bryant concurred, and started writing numbers and drawing lines.

Argon chose this moment to say, "I still don't understand how you can raise e to the i."

He was referring to Euler's formula, and of course, having learned the derivation of it not a long time ago in calc, Dino said, "It's calculus."

"Oh," Argon said. "Really?"

"Yeah. Look here—" Dino pulled out a sheet of paper and started writing the Taylor series for sin x and explaining it. (Since the notation of all of this is very complicated to type without math type, I will not go in depth about the explanation. Just know that by the time Dino got to cos x, we were called down to go to our rooms to start round one.)

"Smart people on the left," the proctor who was showing us our rooms said. We took a left and went into a relatively empty room. Everyone sat down close to each other, then Micro said, "We can't sit next to people from our school."

Argon, Dino, and I, sitting in a circle-like formation around Micro, got up and moved. After I sat down again, I turned around and asked Micro, "Why did all of us move and you got to stay where you were?"

"I don't know," Micro shrugged.

We were then handed the round one questions, and someone out in the hall called the time so that everyone started and ended at the same time. The questions were all straightforward, since it was, after all, round one, and were basically counting numbers. Ten minutes went by slowly, with me playing with my pencil and checking over my work several times (not that I can usually spot anything that I've done wrong anyway).

When the proctor out the hall said that time was up, we all held our papers up to be collected. Then, I turned around (since everyone else sat behind me, as I was sitting in the very front) and compared answers with the others.

"Wait," Dino said, "the third question is six? I got five." That particular question called for counting perfect cubes that fit a certain criterion.

"Did you count twelve?" I asked. I had almost missed that one myself.

"Yeah, I counted that."

"Did you count one?" Argon asked. "That's a perfect cube."

"Oh." Dino said, realization on his face. "One."

"Hey, at least we still have a chance for 159," Argon said, referring to the "162" goal Dino had set earlier.

At this moment, someone from another school said, "The answer to the last one's five, right?"

"No, six," Micro said. "Did you count one?"

"Yeah, I counted one, two, three, two squared, and two times three..."

"What about twelve?" I asked.

"Oh, dammit! I forgot that one!"

Tricky, tricky. Well, at least we still had hope for a 159 (well, not really, and especially not really since I know what happened next, but since I'm a meanie I will tell the next time I blog.)

That's all for today, folks, and we'll see you next time! Don't forget to call our toll-free hotline, 1-800-NEPHRIA*, for any questions, concerns, or downright rants!


(*Hotline does not exist. Other methods of communication does, though.)

"Oh look, ice cream!" (Math Adventures—Part II)

I left off yesterday at the part where we were all on the bus, doing whatever suited ourselves. In my row's case, I was highlighting US packets while staring out the window, Micro was playing with some fancy gadget, and Argon was trying to sleep. After what seemed like an eternity (since reading article after article about Indian gaming isn't the most fun thing I've ever done in my life), the bus pulled into a plaza.

"Are we here?" Someone from another school asked.

Argon opened his eyes, and, after scanning his surroundings, said, "Oh, yeah, we're going to be taking the test here, at—"

"GameStop," I said. "I wouldn't mind taking it in GameStop. Wait. Is that—ice cream!"

However, it appeared that we were not meant to stay, for the bus then turned around and drove away. We were where we were supposed to be, though, for after five minutes we pulled up into the high school that was the site of our match.

Everyone shuffled off the bus, and, in utter confusion, started walking towards some unknown destination. We found some entrance inside, and shuffled down the hall, then out the door into some place that looked like a courtyard. There were several stone tables and chairs in the courtyard, and Tybalt suggested that we all sit down, so we found an empty table and sat.

"We're getting 162 today," Dino said as soon as we all sat down (except for Irving and Mario, who were talking to Mr. Booth). "162."

There were eight of us, and at 18 points (for a perfect score) each, plus a team round of 18 points, we could get a total of 162 points (theoretically).

"Okay," Tybalt said, pulling out his formula sheets. "I just have to remember these. Hey, Bryant, what's tan of π/8?"

"Square root of two minus one."

I stared at him. "Why would you need to know that?"

"The area formula for a regular polygon. You have to divide π by the number of sides. And that answer's not right," Bryant said, referring to Dino, who was working on a round four question.

"What?"

"The answer on the packet, it's wrong. I tried it and it doesn't work."

"Oh," Dino said. He then proceeded to check his answers using synthetic division. Micro, who was sitting next to him, spotted Dino's work and asked what it was.

"Synthetic division. You don't know synthetic division?"

"Nope."

"And you're doing algebra? You need to know synthetic division!"

"That's the disadvantage of skipping algebra two," Argon said.

"Okay," Dino said. "I'll teach you. It's easy. It's similar to long division. You know long division, right?"

"Well—uh—maybe—no."

By this time, Irving and Mario had already migrated to our table as well. Mario was talking about something math-related when someone from another school several meters away from us started playing the guitar.

"He's horrible at it," Dino said, his mission of teaching Micro synthetic division abandoned.

"Why don't we have someone at our school like that?" Mario asked. "There's always that one guy, you know, who carries a guitar all day long. We should have someone at our school like that."

The group of people around the guitar-playing guy suddenly started singing. We stared at them for a while, then Mario turned around and saw several people throwing a football around.

"They're so bad at throwing."

"They're math nerds," Bryant said. "What do you expect?"

"Hey, Irving," Mario said. "You better polish up your frisbee skills. That's all they do in college."

The conversation subsided into math afterwards ("Quick, Irving, what's secant theta?" "Huh? What do you mean, what's secant theta?" "One over cosine theta."). We stayed outside under the nice weather for a while longer, and I took out a strange bag of candy.

"So, I have weird food today," I said, "since I figured I probably shouldn't cook. Anyone want some?"

Dino stared at me and echoed, "Weird food?"

Argon poked a piece of candy and said, "What is this?"

"I don't know." I opened the bag and took a piece out. "It's not in any language I know."

The packaging was in Japanese, although the character on the piece I had taken resembled the Chinese word for "tea." I told Argon so, and he took a piece as well.

"It tastes like a blend of marshmallows and gelatin," he said after taking a bite. "I don't really like the tea flavor though."

"Me neither," I said. I've never really liked tea-flavored things. Why Micro took this as a cue to take one for himself, I'll never know.

And that's it for today, folks. We'll see you next time!


(A.k.a.: Yeah, I should really be doing work right now, so I'll continue for next time. The entire retelling process may take a very, very, very long time, if this keeps up.)