. . . . . entries for 30.6.06 . . . . .
So. Just discovered Johari and Nohari from CTY friends. It is . . . interesting. I encourage you all to click below and tell me what you really think of me. :P
Here is the more positive version of the thing, and here is the negative side. Answer them both. Make your own and post it in a comment or something - I find this all very exciting. xD
You know, Chicago will be fun. I like Cassie (well duh) and I expect to like hanging out with her and the folks at Shimer and so forth. But right here ain't all that bad, and I like the people here too, and I will miss them for the 2+ weeks I am away.
'Sup social life. It's been, what, a couple of days now? I'm back. :P
Huh. I guess I should try my hand at the whole "cleaning my room" thing again. o.o . . .
. . . . . entries for 29.6.06 . . . . .
Disgustingly enough, I think I am something of a transcendentalist. Of sorts. Thoreau is no prophet and Walden isn't scripture, but the perspective is certainly worth considering - especially when one has an atypically large pond in one's backyard, which seems full of large carp one wasn't previously aware of the existence of. (I was excited. Fishies. In my backyard!? Swimming in the grass!?)
Also: lots of downed trees by Lock 7, but nowhere else. I theorize this has something to do with the lock itself and what it does to the river and the water table. Any bright young scholar of earth science is more than welcome to correct me.
. . . . . entries for 28.6.06 . . . . .
I am pretty sure the end of the world is coming about rather soon.
Credit for this little treasure goes to Mr. Ferraro.
To reiterate: Leaving on Sunday. If you live around where I do, we should do something before then. Preferrably tomorrow (Thursday) or Saturday.
Yes indeed.
Ah, little muse of poetry, you came to me with the flood. What a strange little sprite you are.
I think I'm going CRAZY! o.o
So how about that flooding I see on TV but not in my backyard? o.O I expect it'll wash into my basement sooner rather than later, but sometimes it seems as if our yard is protected by some absurd anti-bad-weather aura. All the major storms lately seem to have gone on all around us, but not right on top of us. Odd indeed.
You know, I don't care so much *what* my body image is. I just wish it would be consistant. Not this whole "Erin, you're gross" one day and "hey, you're kinda hot" the next. I don't like it.
Next time I go to Starbucks, I should bring Greg Burke. Someone else is welcome to bring him first. Regardless, he must go, because there is now a pomegranate thing there. Clearly our local addict must check it out.
. . . . . entries for 27.6.06 . . . . .
I never cease to be amazed by the weird shit that Dan Earle finds. xD
I suppose I should give up on productivity. It just doesn't work.
Is there a key to focus? o.O If so, can someone make me a copy of it at the local blacksmith?
. . . . . entries for 26.6.06 . . . . .
Here is proof that Farin Urlaub is, in fact, really really phenomenal. Watch the video, either in Quicktime or Realplayer (or whatever the damn Windows format is). I don't think it matters if you really know the language. Just pay attention to Farin's tone as he talks to the audience. HE IS SO ADORABLE.
. . . I have very odd taste in celebrity crushes. xD
Anyone who reads this and is still sixteen might consider giving TIME a piece of their mind at time.com/sixteen. I just wrote my bit. In the unlikely event that it's published, I don't even know if I'll find out, since I don't read TIME. xD Oh well.
. . . meh. U.S. History SAT II is my lowest score so far. I find this far more depressing than I ought to.
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My highest score is body? WTF? xD
Collegeboard sucks at getting grades up. BUT I'M NOT BITTER.
. . . . . entries for 25.6.06 . . . . .
GAH! The scary scientology YTMND has a sequel now. o.o I feel avowedly guilty for not watching the first one all the way through. But I really don't want to be emotionally scarred. I am torn: internet duty? emotional well-being? AAAAH!
Right, so: I'm not tired, and SAT II scores are out at midnight. (In theory, anyway.) And I'm cleaning my room. So. Yeah. THAT'S WHY I'M NOT SLEEPING.
. . . why does my blog think I have archives for May of 1990? o.O
MWAHAHAHAHA
EVIL PLANS!
. . . and yeah: I'm going to Chicago on Sunday. I invite you to accost me with things to do between now and then, since I may not be back for quite some time.
Today was full of boxsprings drama and ROOMCLEANING! I am taking a break from the latter now. You would not believe the tangle of clotheshangers currently sitting about two feet from my unprotected eyeballs. If I fell in the right direction, I could be impaled in several different ways by the damn things.
ROOMCLEANING!
I rather like the sentiment of this.
. . . . . entries for 24.6.06 . . . . .
Am I, actually, a completely insensate lug of presuppositions and prejudices? Am I elitist beyond reason? Is it the widely recognized truth that I do not actually have feelings?
. . . just curious. :P
So. Done with nerdparties? I kind of miss them. I like my nerds.
If I don't get a job in Chicago, it won't exactly be a major loss, I think. I'd like to hang out here over the summer. It's not as if I'd be the only one.
And what will I do without certain nerds next year? The lack of Nicole and J.P. will be strange indeed. At least college apps will keep me busy. -.-
ONE! MORE! NERDPARTY!
Freaking SOCIAL LIFE! It's ridiculous!
. . . . . entries for 23.6.06 . . . . .
I think it possible that our society does not give enough credit to apparently "well-adjusted" teenagers. In this case, by the phrase "well-adjusted" I mean generally upbeat, fairly booksmart, "involved in the community" (i.e. has some form of a life outside of social, family and scholastic), has "well-adjusted" friends, and so on.
These "well-adjusted" kids act against a lot of natural teenaged instincts. The impulse of the teenager is to act irrationally and emotionally, and for the most part, they don't. People develop an expectation of these kids, and distinguish them from others in that they act more mature. They expect the standard to be held, which, when you think about it, is completely ludicrous. It's like expecting a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter never to snap. It's the "well-adjusted" ones who may eventually go off the deep end like no normal teenager ever could.
So, o blogreaders: be understanding of those strange "well-adjusted" kids. In spite of their best (and usually successful) efforts to make it look like they're in control of themselves and their lives, they are still teenagers. They don't like it either. If they do things that seem uncharacteristically immature, breathe a sigh of relief because it's temporarily out of their system; don't freak out and think they're becoming irresponsible, impulsive, normal kids. They're not. They just need to unwind sometimes, so that they don't snap entirely.
Snapping would suck. I endeavor not to snap. Y'know?
. . . yeah, I think "Like a simile, I paint suggestive pictures of me and you" is still my favorite line from a song ever. (It's from Old Hat by Harvey Danger, in case any of you uncoolies didn't know. GOD. WHY DO I EVEN KNOW YOU!?)
. . . . . entries for 22.6.06 . . . . .
So today was productive. Weird - the first day of summer, and I actually do something. Most recently I was at Frank's house, which was freaking thrilling. (No, really. It was.) Our mothers talked, and by "our mothers talked" I mean my mother talked and Frank's mother listened and occasionally chimed in. Sigh. xD
And tomorrow I have (yet another!) nerd party. I almost have a social life, guys. GUYS. THIS IS EXCITING. SOCIAL LIFE!?
I have the Johnny Cash cover of Hurt stuck in my head more or less constantly.
Ugh. No. I take it back. I know why I've been feeling so out of sorts. -.- . . .
. . . . . entries for 21.6.06 . . . . .
I wish I knew why I've felt so out of sorts these past couple of days.
Incidentally, numbers for anyone who wants them: 99 on English, 98 in German, 95 in Latin. History and chem aren't graded yet, and I probably won't know the grades for a matter of weeks.
. . . and did I say here that I got a C on my math final? xD I don't remember. I have an A- as a final grade in precalc. And I am, at least for a year's time, done with hardcore math. Stat only next year. Thank God.
So. I'm a senior now?
What the hell. o.o
So our water pressure seems to have died completely. o.O Hmmmm.
LAST EXAM TODAY. o.o
. . . . . entries for 20.6.06 . . . . .
Mr. Bloom is my favorite teacher ever. That is basically all I have to say.
So I guess I have my history regents today? xD I've been trying to get myself into history mode for a while, but it just hasn't been happening. I had a weird, almost-realistic dream about today and the test, though. I wish I'd stop having them. They're disorienting.
History!?
. . . . . entries for 19.6.06 . . . . .
Thunderrrrrr.
One other thing I want for my birthday: shirts YOU design for me at neighborhoodies.com. Because it'd be entertaining.
. . . and a basil plant. I would actually really like a basil plant. xD
I don't like it when the cable gods cut off my internet due to an unpaid bill. :P
Anyway. I feel like today is a Billy Idol day. I don't know why. I also kind of feel like Delirium today.
I eagerly anticipate the thunderstorms that are supposed to happen later, because it is kind of hot and gross now. Perhaps connected to my Delirium-ness or to the heat is a headache, which has been phasing in and out of the upper left front corner of my skull for the past couple of hours.
Wheeeeee.
. . . . . entries for 18.6.06 . . . . .
So I actually kind of like the air-conditioner. I'm ashamed. But it's not that it's cool or whatever, or that it's dry - it just smells nice. xD
I also feel it necessary to tell you all, at this juncture, that the song Zebra is playing on iTunes right now. It is the song I have stuck in my head most of the time. If I ever start pseudowaltzing and singing decidedly bizarre lyrics, this song is probably at fault.
If you really loved me, you'd buy me the great Pyramids. . .
It's also Father's Day today. So get off the Internet and do something nice for your dad. My dad is currently walking the dog, I think.
. . . but I'm so forgetful! You already did!
When he gets back, we will do something good and family-ish, I hope. I think. o.O
But there's one thing I need, if you won't think I'm greedy, my dear. . .
. . . another zebra.
Zelda looks lonely! I want a zebra!
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. . . . . entries for 17.6.06 . . . . .
So my mother has an air-conditioner.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . . waaaa-hoo.
Today, there was air conditioner controversy.
I wonder how many problems have no solution.
. . . . . entries for 16.6.06 . . . . .
So. Three-day "weekend" before the history test, and chem the day after that, then I'm kind of free. But I have to clean my room. I mean, I really HAVE to. It's terrible. But I don't. . . WANT to. xD You know? Yeah. You know.
What type of Fae are you?
Aren't you proud of me? I found good blog clutter!
Raggle fraggle mraggle TIRED.
. . . . . entries for 15.6.06 . . . . .
Wow. YTMND.com has actually become a rather serious force against scientology. Go check it out - though I didn't see "the unfunny truth" all the way through so I don't know if it is, in fact, a sick joke. I was rather afraid of how unfunny it could get.
People are really creepy.
Also: After the exam today, there was a mass exodus of our school's social studies department. They all went out to lunch together. When Bloom saw me, he walked over and told me:
If any APUSH students of Mr. Bloom want their final narratives back, he'll have them graded by Monday; he's read all of them already.
He thanked me for what I said in my paper and gave me a hug. Natalie made fun of me because I'm friends with my history teacher. I delight in my history nerdity, and in my fellow history nerds. I am not ashamed. :P
Did I let someone borrow my copy of Dark Cloud, or did I just lose it? xD
Anyway. English part one was today. O thrill. o.O Not much to say about that; I came, I saw, I wrote the damn essays, and I left. Two more essays and the foreign language tests tomorrow. I could be at school from 8:00 AM to 6:00 PM. It's really gross.
. . . . . entries for 14.6.06 . . . . .
Actually, to some extent, it'd be best if I didn't get a lot for my birthday. A CD or two would be nice, but I have so much junk already. I don't need anymore stuff. xD
Hm. . . okay. So my birthday is getting close. Generally, I want music. German music, for preference. Specifically, some Farin Urlaub or Wir Sind Helden would be totally sweet.
Other than that, I don't really know what I want for my birthday. Good stuff, basically. Not food. People give me food, and then I have this munchie stuff hanging around, and I feel fat. It's no good.
I know. I'm really helpful. xD Sorry.
I am one week and five Regents exams away from being a high school senior, and I am SO TIRED. xD
“Fellow-citizens, we cannot escape history.”
- Abraham Lincoln, December 1st, 1862.
I identified Abraham Lincoln as my hero in elementary school. Two students were asked to pick heroes and say a few words about their choices in an assembly about American history –– that is, the cheery elementary school version of American history –– and I happened to be one of them. I didn’t actually know anything about Lincoln, besides that he had been President during the Civil War. He had been the Good Guy. That was all I needed back then.
I haven’t changed my mind; Abraham Lincoln is still my hero, for all the word’s fantastic connotations. I don’t venerate him at face value anymore, though. Now I admire him because he endured more hardship than most men do in their darkest dreams. Abe was impeccably talented and lamentably flawed. He is godly now because he was human during his lifetime, and, even standing by the gates of Hell, he was still a Good Guy. Abraham Lincoln was, and is, real. That is why he is my hero.
This is what I have learned in your class, Advanced Placement United States History.
* * *
There is the problem of tense. When I write about a historical figure, I am never sure: was he? or is he? After writing every paragraph of every essay all year long, I have read over each sentence, and checked that the tense was at least consistant, even if I wasn’t quite certain which I ought to have used.
It may seem like a petty grammatical detail, but it makes me question what these men and women are to me. Are they dead people? Are they ideas, crushed like flowers in the pages of books? Are they both?
This is probably a thought that a lot of students would dog-ear as “interesting” and move on, but I plan to be in the textbooks myself one day. I may first ask what the history-makers mean to me as a student, but I quickly move on to what I will mean, as a history-maker, to the students of the future. I do not want to be dog-eared as “interesting” then left, hardly remembered, pressed between other “interesting” names and events. I am real now. I want to be real forever.
Don’t we all?
I am admittedly guilty of intellectual snobbery; I was guilty of it before this year, and it seems to get worse all the time. It seems to me that most people, for a reason I simply cannot comprehend, don’t see the connection between this, a fundamental question of history, and one of myriad fundamental questions of life itself. What happens when we die? Do we cease to exist? Does our conscienceness travel to Heaven or Hell, or to another life on Earth?
I say that our afterlife lies here, in classrooms and homes, with students and our descendants, in textbooks and in memories. I say this after spending a year developing this opinion and, at root, this belief, in history class. No one can fairly claim that the actors of history are gone from this world, just as our grandparents don’t cease to exist once they die. Everywhere we turn, their influence stares us in the face; whether we remember them for their fresh-baked cookies or their moving oratory, we remember them. I don’t know what happens to our “souls” and consciencenesses after death, but I do know that we are remembered by our deeds during life; this, in and of itself, is Heaven or Hell, depending upon what we do to garner favor or disfavor amongst those who know us. Whatever we will become after death, we will deserve it, because we can practically request the treatment we will receive through our own actions, through the stones we cast into the pool and the ripples they create.
Thinking like this, I feel at ease. It is a wonder to me why people spend so much time concerned about an uncertain afterlife when the answer seems so plain and simple now. It did take a year of Advanced Placement United States History for me to work it out, though, so I suppose the preoccupation with the spiritual afterlife is understandable for those who aren’t as interested in history, and in becoming history, as I.
Maybe this idea seems insubstantial, hardly related to what we studied this year, or maybe it seems profound. Either way, it is a matter of faith, and I have thought for a long time that faith is the greatest asset a human being can have. History is my religion. It’s what I believe in.
Here are a few more reasons why.
* * *
“We of this Congress and this administration,
will be remembered in spite of ourselves.
No personal significance, or insignificance,
can spare one or another of us.
The fiery trial through which we pass,
will light us down, in honor or dishonor,
to the latest generation.”
- Abraham Lincoln, December 1st, 1862.
In middle school, history was my least favorite subject. I found it abjectly boring and irrelevant. Some teachers could keep me interested for a class or two, but it was always a
passing thing, and the very next week, I would proceed to hate history again.
Then came high school, and honors world history with Mrs. Hirota-Morris. That class definitely put history in the “interesting” category, but the nature of world history as a high school discipline –– general, all trends and approximations –– would not allow it to be any more than that. Freshman and sophomore history was somewhat like reading a very long, intricate, fascinating work of fiction, completely without application to the present or future.
I expect history is still like this for most students, but I try not to dwell on this. The idea of the “best and brightest” kids in the country failing to appreciate the gravity of history, and of its dire importance to history yet to unfold, is really very depressing to me.
But I digress; there will be more on that subject in a moment.
I did not expect to like Advanced Placement United States History; in fact, I was fairly certain that I would once again take up my adversarial attitude toward the discipline. That the matter at hand was American history was especially unfortunate. Throughout middle school and most of my time as an underclassman, I was content in my belief that the political structure in the United States was irreconcilably degenerate and corrupt. Believing that all hope was lost was actually extraordinarily easy; it gave me an excuse not to care and, more importantly, not to think about solutions to the problems that face me and my entire generation.
As such, I thought of American history as a long-winded, too-detailed novel, the white, male, Christian protagonist of which I found easier to hate than to love. The subject was simply not worth my interest.
Over the course of the year, I was reminded that, in spite of my most fervent wishes, hope is not lost for America and, yes, we really do have to try to get our act together. Most of the people who told me this are now dead.
There is one man who brings a tear to my eye whenever I think about him, for all the thoughts of what was and what could have been. In a world in which Pandora’s Box had been blown open, he held and sheltered hope like a candle in the palm of his hand.
* * *
“Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget
falls drop by drop upon the heart,
until, in our own despair,
against our will,
comes wisdom
through the awful grace of God.”
- Aeschylus; as delivered by Robert F. Kennedy, April 4th, 1968
I am not related to the Kennedy family. I am related to the Adams and Roosevelt families, but not the Kennedys. This is probably a good thing; as a not-Kennedy, I am probably substantially less likely to die in a bizarre accident.
John F. Kennedy does not impress me. He reminds me, rather, of Warren G. Harding, a playboy lost in the White House, uncertain how or why he ever came to bear the title President of the United States. He strikes me as unprepared for his duty and, at times, unwise in his decision-making.
His little brother, Bobby Kennedy, is perhaps my favorite figure in American history. Somehow, I don’t think I need explain why in great detail. Suffice it to say that he is the human antithesis of cynicism; he is the tonic which all ennui-stricken Americans should be spoonfed in the morning and evening to cure them of those twin illnesses, ignorance and apathy. In spite of the difficulties of his own life –– indeed, because of those difficulties –– he believed he could play a part in improving the country in which he lived, as wracked with chaos and sorrow as it was.
As you may remember, I ran for president (of my class) a few weeks ago. I lost, and was not terribly surprised to lose. Before I knew that I had lost –– right after I had given my speech, in fact –– a close friend of mine came up to me and told me:
“Your speech went right over everyone’s head.”
This I could accept, but then he went on to say something like this:
“He [referring to another candidate for a different office] was by far the best public speaker. He was at home on stage. It doesn’t matter if he’s incompetent. People like him will always win. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
I just stared at him, afraid I would start to cry if I tried to say anything. I was outraged; I was hurt; maybe most of all, I was shocked at the abject lack of tact on my friend’s part. It was as if he didn’t know me at all. Had he really just said –– and said to me, to my face –– that there was nothing I could do?
Finally, I got out the words: “Is that so?” My voice was shaking. Maybe I’m melodramatic, too easily moved, and if that’s the case, I have no reservation in saying that I’d rather be a soppy fool than an icy sage.
Our mutual teacher was standing closeby, observing the situation, and he said to my friend:
“Sometimes you have to do what you can.”
I’m not sure I can express on paper the gratitude I felt. There is nothing one such as I loves so much as to be understood, and when someone I considered a compatriot didn’t even try to support me, my teacher did.
After that, class started, and my day went on as usual –– even if I did have a strong desire to maim a certain pessimistic acquaintance of mine.
I suppose this leads me in two directions. First, it leads me back to Bobby Kennedy, by way of hope. What, in the name of all things sacred, could make a seventeen-year-old boy lose hope in American democracy? At what age do we shed our idealism in 2006, as if it were an inflexible skin? How early in the lives of children will the embitterment begin ten years from now? Will my friend care enough to vote in the next presidential election?
What I don’t understand, and what I think I will never understand, is why, when people see an injustice rolling down the road, they step back and watch it go by, shaking their head and tut-tutting and asking why things are the way they are. It doesn’t matter why things are wrong; the only thing that matters is making them right.
Bobby Kennedy, at age 48, after the brutal murder of his brother, had enough hope left in him to run in the election. He didn’t collapse, he could not collapse; he wanted to change the world that had hurt him. He did something. That is what hope means to me: the power to keep going, the will to act and believe when odds are against you. That is why Bobby Kennedy, like Abraham Lincoln, is a hero of mine.
Second, I am reminded that I sometimes find myself relating to my teachers more easily than I relate to my classmates, both on personal and academic levels. This phenomenon has only gotten more extreme this year, and I place the blame, in part, on you. It’s not a bad sort of blame in any case; after all, everything I wrote about above is, to some extent, your fault.
It is the least I can do to thank you. I don’t think I shall quickly forget what I learned in your class, Mr. Bloom. When I’m history, I hope you’ll remember me, too.
* * *
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
- Theodore Roosevelt, April 23rd, 1910
. . . . . entries for 13.6.06 . . . . .
Jesus H. Christ, I am such a history nerd.
You know what, I'll just post my Final Narrative when it's done. It's gonna be good.
Must find good blog clutter. . .
Also: I just do not know what to do with boys at all. o.O
So I didn't fail the second part of my math final at all! I feel pretty good about it. I hope, fervently, that it'll average out to something like a B, though I doubt I'll be so lucky. Ach ja, so ist das Leben, nicht wahr?
I'm also in art next year, for real! This is good. Art is a pleasantly chill class for me, and it keeps the little creativity sprite breathing, which the rest of high school obviously doesn't. Half the time it appears to be actively smothering the poor little thing. What'd creativity ever do to high school, anyway?
I have a five-page paper to write for my dearly beloved APUSH this evening. After that, I have no more homework, aside from Regents studying. Like I'm really going to study for Regents. Pfaw. xD (Eh, well, I might. I do want five 100%'s, after all.)
Some things are going to end in a little over a week, but others will never change.
. . . . . entries for 11.6.06 . . . . .
YES.
Ohoho, you know I love blog clutter.
It's official! I've lost every election I ran in this year. xD Oh well. Some of the people who beat me will do a fine job, I'm sure. Others will probably fall flat on their face. Either way, I think I will live. :P
. . . . . entries for 10.6.06 . . . . .
I know I should be doing something productive, but for the life of me, I DO NOT WANT TO. :(
Freaking WEIRD dream. And a lot of people were in it, and by people I mean people I know. I remember Susan and Frank in particular, and I'm pretty sure there were others. xD
It was in this town that was kind of Edward Scissorhands-esque, all bright colors and kind of 50's-style cars and houses. All the people seemed inordinately happy, but they were wearing modern clothes - just in pastels and stuff.
But the dream started in this church, or I think it was a church. A similar building has appeared in my dreams before, and it always seems to be doing different things. I think last time I was with a group of criminals and we were hiding out there or something.
. . . anyway.
Susan was sitting to my right. I guess it was some kind of ceremony, but there were these gigantic goblets of something. I remember thinking it was watered wine or something, but it was more yellow than I think of white wine being. We were all in formalwear, though I don't really remember what the individual dresses or what have you looked like.
Regardless, at some point in the ceremony, the church started tilting backwards. It continued to do this until we were nearly upside-down. This was a great laugh for Susan and I, for whatever reason, in spite of the fact that we were in terrible danger of falling and dying. xD
So after that - and no, I don't really remember how I got out of that predicament - I went for a walk in the town with Susan and Frank, who appeared to be following me. When I told then that I didn't actually have any particular idea where I was headed, Frank shrugged and walked back to the semi-inverted church, but Susan and I kept going. We just prowled around the town for a while.
After the prowling was done, the church had changed into some mechanized headquarters of "the bad guys." I somehow associate them with school administrators, but I don't think they were. So, in the classic style of my weird-ass dreams, I changed into a wolf and went in to attack. The decor was kind of space-age and weird.
I was driven out that time, and I remember, not at all in the classic style of my weird-ass dreams, getting a cut-scene of the bad guys brewing their evil plans. Apparently they had a secret weapon which they could put to use if I came back as a bigger thing - they seemed to know that I was capable of returning as a dragon.
So I, being self-destructive, went back as a dragon. I actually think I foiled whatever plan they had, because I totally kicked their asses.
At some other point in the dream - maybe before, maybe after, maybe completely disconnected - I was staying with my sister. I think we were on the run from a nameless something. We were staying in a hotel with gray walls, and nothing was hanging on them at all - very blank. There were two TVs in our room, one normal one and one plasma screen up in the corner. This was perplexing.
But I don't really remember what relevance that part had at all; it was just there.
How weird.
. . . . . entries for 9.6.06 . . . . .
I just watched Duma, a movie about a boy and his cheetah (along the lines of The Black Stallion and Fly Away Home), and I feel it necessary to remind everyone that I love cats. A lot.
Well, part one of ye olde math final didn't go as well as I would have liked. I figure, if I study harder for the second part, I'll still get an A or a B, and it won't hit my average too hard.
And I am planning on getting 100% on all five Regents exams I have to take. So BAH. :P
It's the weekend. I still have a cold. There shall be much sleep and relaxation and precalc. Indeed.
And yeah, I actually think the typos in the sidebar are very appropriate, too.
. . .
. . . dear god. -.-
. . . . . entries for 8.6.06 . . . . .
The song currently living in my sidebar is sickeningly appropriate. o.O
MATH FINAL TOMORROW
AAAGGGHHHHHHH
. . . . . entries for 6.6.06 . . . . .
It basically boils down to school or sleep, these days.
. . . . . entries for 5.6.06 . . . . .
. . . does anyone else find Schrödinger's cat experiment really inhumane but really, horribly funny? There was a thread on Gaia about it, and I wrote:
My sincerest apologies, but I find it difficult to take the theory seriously because it's so inhumane and yet so funny. Schrödinger's cat is
ALIVE!
DEAD!
ALIVE!
DEAD!
WHICH IS IT!?
. . . and seriously, whenever I see a cat in any boxlike vessel, I just crack up. I don't know why. It's really quite terrible, and I don't know why I find it so funny, but I just can't get past the humor to the actual theory. I wish Schrödinger had used a less silly experiment to test the uncertainty thing.
Someone a couple of posts before me wrote the following, which is extraordinarily funny to me, especially being a Monty Python fan as I am:
"The best answer we have is building off of what someone said earlier, leave the cat in the box after the half-life and let it go another round, the cat is now 75/25 dead provided you make no observation between half lives.
Model the cat's life by
.5^t
Schrodinger's cat becomes exponentially more dead and less living, but never reaches the point of being definitively dead.
the only conclusion we can reach is:
Schrodinger's cat is not dead yet
(though it most certainly is not getting better and we may as well give the man with the cart the nine pence to haul the cat off because the chap is in a tremendous hurry to get to the Robins's as they've lost nine today, even if it is against policy to take things that aren't entirely dead.)"
In other news, I am a Chaotic Good Halfling Cleric Fighter. :P This is what the Twinrose D&D character test says about me:
Alignment:
Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.
Race:
Halflings are short and fat, like minuature people. (Think 'Hobbits') They enjoy the easy life, but aren't averse to the idea of an adventure from time to time. They get along with all races, and are known for their senses of humor. Halflings also tend to be light of foot, and can move quietly when necessary.
Primary Class:
Clerics are the voices of their God/desses on Earth. They perform the work of their deity, but this doesn't mean that they preach to a congregation all their lives. If their deity needs something done, they will do it, and can call upon that deity's power to accomplish their goals.
Secondary Class:
Fighters are the warriors. They use weapons to accomplish their goals. This isn't to say that they aren't intelligent, but that they do, in fact, believe that violence is frequently the answer.
Detailed Results:
Alignment:
Law and Chaos:
Law ----- XXXXX (5)
Neutral - XXXX (4)
Chaos --- XXXXXXX (7)
Good and Evil:
Good ---- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Neutral - (-1)
Evil ---- (-3)
Race:
Human ---- (0)
Half-Elf - XXXXX (5)
Elf ------ XXXXXX (6)
Gnome ---- XX (2)
Halfling - XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Dwarf ---- XXXX (4)
Half-Orc - XXXXXXX (7)
Class:
Fighter -- XXXXXXXXX (9)
Barbarian - (-4)
Ranger --- XXXXXX (6)
Monk ----- XXXXXXXX (8)
Paladin -- XXXXXXX (7)
Cleric --- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Mage ----- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Druid ---- XXX (3)
Thief ---- (0)
Bard ----- XXXXXXXX (8)
Ohoho! Here is a revamped version of Jophiel (remember him?) by a member of yon roleplaying party:
I love Jo. So much. xD He's awesome. I guess I should refrain from liking my own characters so damn much. Oh well.
Need. . . more. . . blogclutter! xD
This week is so impossible. o.o
. . . . . entries for 4.6.06 . . . . .
I hope you guys will forgive me if I'm in Chicago for most of the summer.
. . . especially my birthday. Gulp. >.>
So I guess I have schoolwork, like, important, final-related schoolwork, I ought to be doing.
BUT. I just downloaded the FFVII OST. Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride. :P
Well, shit. It got to be very early in the morning very quickly, now didn't it?
Do me a favor and remind me, next time you see me, that I'm not going to bloody well get into Harvard.
. . . . . entries for 3.6.06 . . . . .
So YTMND is basically amazing. Here is an example of recent amazingness on YTMND.
Oh yeah - SAT II's were okay.
One thing I really love about where I live is the Hudson Valley jungle all about in the summertime. It's so green and so utterly, uncontrollably vivacious. I persist in my claim that the Garden of Eden was in fact NOT between the Tigris and Euphrates but rather between the Mohawk and Hudson.
. . . . . entries for 2.6.06 . . . . .
In other-other (but vaguely related) news: on the National Spelling Bee last night, both the deciding words - Weltschmerz and Ursprache - were cut-and-dry German. The girl who ended up being the second speller in the country spelled Weltschmerz with a V. A V. In GERMAN. That's SHAMEFUL.
In other news, I have decided on my senior quote - at least temporarily - if we are allowed to have foreign-language quotes. It is:
"Ihr brüllt von Liebe in engen Gewändern; doch, einer wie ich will die Welt auch verändern." ~Andreas Dorau
It translates, roughly, to "you all growl about love in tight clothes; one such as I, however, wants to change the world."
GAH. This stupid half-downloaded music file thinks it is doing something important on my desktop and refuses to leave. >.o I don't suppose anyone knows how to throw it out? (It's "being used in another task," in spite of the fact that it, you know, isn't. I wish I at least knew what the other task WAS.)
. . . it's just one little file, but I cannot abide computer-clutter. >.o Gods know I don't have harmony in the rest of my environment. THE ICON IS DESTROYING JEZZIE'S FENG SHUI!
. . .
. . .
Anyway.
I have SAT II's tomorrow and I feel kind of icky. My throat is sore and I have been sneezy and unusually hiccuppy. I should probably do some last-minute studying but I just. . . don't want to. Too blah.
I slept from about 4:00 to about 8:00, but I'm still tired, and I doubt I'll have any difficulty getting to sleep before THE STANDARDIZED TEST.
. . . so sick of standardized tests.
I kind of wish I could quit the dreams about being all cute with boys. :P I remember, in Sandman (I think volume 4, A Game Of You), Hazel said that dreams scared her because they were a part of her in her mind that betrayed her.
. . . dreams don't really *scare* me, but they make me doubt more than I would really like to.
. . . . . entries for 1.6.06 . . . . .
When was the last time you really thought about how lucky you are?
So I've been nerding it up bigtime lately. Last night, the NHS induction; today, the book awards (mine was from Harvard, which is basically a riot); right now, the national spelling bee. Oh, the shame of the nerdity. It weighs upon me. Truly it does.
German is a major root language, as is Latin. If I were still a wee bairn, I could participate in this stuff.
. . . they should have Celtic roots. See how THAT treats the little geeklings. xD Slainte!
I am officially about three minutes away from having the entire FFIX OST downloaded. xD Wahoo! (Tomorrow. . . FFVII! MWAHAHAHA!)
I am really damn tired. I will regret this downloading spree.
BUT I WANT IT.
RAAAAAH!
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)