Oh, Happy Day!

For those of you who have continually been checking up on this oh-so-wonderful blog of mine in the hopes of seeing a happy new post from myself, today is your lucky day. I have finally had enough Bo Burnham on my homepage, and it's time for a better face.

Oh, hell yeah. Now, that's what I'm talking about.

On the other hand, for those of you just visiting this awe-inspiring page for the first time, screw you. Now, don't take that the wrong way. I *love* that you're here and I hope you come back for round 3, but what the heck took you so long? I mean, really. 

Anyways, passive aggression aside, my life has been rather hectic lately. What with school, college apps, and the always important yearbook taking up 23 hours of my day, there has been little time to come up with interesting posts...hence what you are reading right now.

To make it more interesting, I could start writing in Spanish. Maybe German? ¡Sí! Ja! Possiblemente. Vielleicht. 

Niet..

Welcome Back, Now Here's 2 Facts

1) I hate catchy choruses
2) I'm a hypocrite

Just kidding. That would be way too awesome if I were Bo Burnham.

Then again, I don't think I could be a dude. 

But, never-the-less, I am back in business. The south has posted again, the eagle has landed in the blogosphere, and any other popular phrase you can think of, tweaked to be blog-related. I'm way too clever for my own good.

The summer has ended [chokes back tears] and the craziness that is school is back in my life as of today. As such, my brain is officially fried. Three months of doing nothing has gradually reverted my brain-matter to mush, so any actual thought processes give me a migraine worthy of a timid "oww" and a pinch on the bridge of my nose. Thus, I cannot actually think of any topic worthy of my ever-so-fabulous blog off the top of my head. That's right, you're getting the canned version that is number 9 on the list of 100 Blog Topics I Hope You Write: How I Find Blogging Ideas.

Shit.

Next.

25. Books I Want To Write. That'll work.

For the past 3 years I've been working on a "creative writing" story about a girl that's invisible and a guy that's blind. Ironic? Only slightly. He's friendly, she hates him. I'm sure you can all see (or not, since she's, you know, invisible and all) where this is going. They fall in lurve. [hold up audience "awww" reaction sign]. I look back at the pages I have so far and edit, edit edit. Each time, I try to make it less...what's another way to say "has a terrible plot and even worse writing"? Well, I try to make it less Stephanie-Meyer-esque. That about covers the horrible plot twists and bland writing.

They're not romantic. They're creepy. Call the cops, you airhead.

I mean, really. Are you kidding me? My characters are actually sane. Santa should be the only one who sees you when you're sleeping and knows when you're awake. If Edward Cullen is the new Santa Claus, I'm converting to a religion that doesn't acknowledge the existence of Kris Kringle and decapitates anything that comes down the chimney or through the windows. Creeper.

But I digress.

Unfortunately, for those of you who enjoy reading sad, slightly stupid books about immature morons, here is one you will never see. I only add to my story when I'm in chicky-flicky mode, so there's no way I am letting that sucker out into the open. It would ruin my rep of being super special awesome. Guess you're just going to have to settle for your grocery store romances.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Haaappy Birthday toooo meeeeee! I know you're all singing along with me on this one. If you're not, you're a terrible human being. Shame on you for not wishing me a happy birthday. Just kidding. We're still cool. I mean, not as cool as me on my own since it's, you know, my birthday and all, but still...

On the topic of birthdays, I always feel a bit awkward when people ask me what I want. Not to sound snobby, I usually go with a: "Oh nothing, thanks," or a "I really can't think of anything right now," or even the self-less "Just you coming to my party is enough."

But come on, there's probably no chance that I'm telling the truth when I say that. Humans are selfish; it's a basic instinct. Back who-knows-how-long-ago when we were all grunty

some still are, especially during a football game

 and wore loin-cloths to cover our delicate parts, we'd all fight over who got the best part of the gazelle or who got to drink the clean water first, before the rest of our troop muddied it up, frolicking in the puddles. Yes, the majority of the population's hygiene has improved, but many basic instincts are still just sitting there, hoping to make people look stupid when they are most vulnerable, i.e. most drunk/wasted/plastered/hammered/shit-faced. Pick your poison.

On the topic of booze, I just got back from lunch with the family at this wine bar-cafe-bistro whatever French restaurant, and after that meal, pretty much everyone at the table was seriously considering more alcohol. Don't get me wrong, the food was really good, it just took FOREVER to be served.

For-ev-UR

No joke. It took 34 minutes for the waitress to ask us what we all wanted. But let's get back to the meat of the story. I actually got fish, but never mind. You don't care. 

Some part of me deep down (very deep down) thinks the act of giving/receiving gifts is just slightly questionable. It says: "Hey, I don't feel like having my actions or words speak for me, so here's a tangible gift to bribe you to be my friend." Then there's another little bit (slightly closer to the surface) that sees it as an act of appreciation: "You're so super awesome. Here's a little somethin' somethin' to show you just how much I care about our friendship/you/what you do."

But in the long run, it's awesome. Who doesn't love getting presents or letters in the mail? The only letters I have gotten recently have been from colleges asking for my soul and Bob Smith, CEO who has promised me on more than one occasion to turn that $100 I sent in into $1 million. He must have a busy schedule.

Raise your hand if you like getting presents. Keep your hand raised if you like getting letters from people you know in the mail. Now, keep that hand up if you actually send letters to old friends that you haven't heard from in a while and want to keep in touch with. If your hand is still up, you're an awesome person and I want you as my friend. If your hand went down for that last one, that's okay. Like I said before, people are selfish and it's not that inconceivable that you're not one of them, too.

"You keep using that word. I do not 

think it means what you think it means."

I Presume You've Heard Of A "Bugged" Computer?

Prior to today: Bugs are caused by viruses or whatever, inserting technical jargon where appropriate and sounding super computer-savvy.

Today: Wait, bugs, like physical creepy-crawly bugs, can actually get INSIDE your computer? Shit. That's really cool and really annoying at the same time.

I was watching YouTube videos (because that is what cool people do when they're bored) and all of a sudden, a mole on somebody's face crawled out of the window. What!?!? Unless some space-time continuum decides to take five, that kind of stuff is not supposed to go down. But it wasn't a movable mole, no that would be way too weird.

Unless you're Prince John.

No Prince John impersonators were on screen and no space-time continuum was disrupted (I hope, but I'll call up my good buddy, Steven Hawking, just to make sure). It was a bug, a very active bug. You'd think it was January and he was trying to stick to that "New Years' Resolution" for the one week people actually try to do anything. But Herbert (yes, I named him Herbert. He seemed like a Herbert.) is actually keeping up with his plans. One minute he'll be over by the START button and the next he's zoomed up to the search bar and wandering over the pretty pretty letters up there. 

As boring as my life is and probably as boring as this whole story sounds, this was the highlight of my day. I chased him around the screen with my mouse, caused several seizures by scrolling the screen up and down super quick, and finally turned the computer off because he was annoying the heck out of me. Only then did I realize that I had been chasing Herbert around for over an hour and a half. This just proves how boring my life is.

No, really. This is my whole week. I have no life.

Two Birds With One Stone

First, a disclaimer: my English teacher likes to mix things up a bit. We talk in class and it turns out to be part of our exam. We read a book for over a month and the essay ends up being about a movie we watched. Then he pulled out the big guns for the final exam.

The last book we read in class was Homer's Odyssey and during our final class of the year (yeah, I'm done. Woot!) we went around the room and made a list of all the characteristics and checkpoints of the book.
          -An end goal
          -Something more important than self
          -Enlightenment
          -Challenges and roadblocks

         Don't forget the part where you have to stab a cyclops in the eye.

Of course, everyone's minds immediately went to "is this our essay question?" Some people actually wrote up outlines about our year as an odyssey. Psh. Overachievers.

The last class came and went, and then Friday rolled around: the day of our English exam. He placed a blue book on everyone's desks..face down. Odd, but nobody really thought anything of it, or at least I didn't think anything of it. The blue books were then followed up by a prompt for the essay.

"Write an Odyssey of your year, making sure to reference specific class discussions, books we have read, or movies we have watched."

The people that had prepared cheered, while the rest of us groaned and furiously tried to remember everything we had talked about the day before in the hopes of somehow incorporating it into our papers. Only after I had started working out my outline did our teacher reach the front of the room and say to the now broken hearts in the room,

"Alright, you may now flip your blue books face up and read the real essay."

The bugger. I feel bad for his children "Isn't your new car pretty? Yeah, just kidding, that's not it.We're picking yours out at the dump later today." And what was the "Refurbished"-Scrap-Metal-of-a-Prompt that we had?

No joke, that was our essay. We had to write for an hour on "Why?"

You always have two choices.

"Do you want fries with that?": yes/no

You're taking a shower: ice water/magma

Your teacher just handed you your final exam essay: write about the topic/make your topic something you can later post on your blog.

Guess which one I chose? (hint: it's not the former) So here is my final exam essay. Enjoy.


One of the instructions for this essay was "Be Honest". That is exactly what I am going to do. Honestly, this question makes me angry. Why? Because I am a perfectionist and when curveballs are thrown my way I freak out, panic, occasionaly throw up, and eventually inform everyone of how upset I am. But if the purpose of such a question was to make people think, be creative, and be different, mission accomplished. Nobody is going to write about the same thing. Bravo, mastermind. You have officially broken the norm and made a name for yourself.


Most English classes discuss themes of books, plot lines, and characters. But not our class. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'm not the best at remembering details, but philosophical analysis I can do. Ambiguous answers are my bread and butter. Why do people die? To prove that everyone is equal and in the end we're all going to be worm-food. Why are we born? There would be a lot less to do if we hadn't been. Why did the chicken cross the road? I don't think even the chicken knows. Why was the English class discussing bathroom procedures in Korea? Because the original question had nothing to do with excrement, of course. Why else? It's not so much the topic at hand or a given question that people think about in class, but the ones halfway through the class period that they can honestly answer without looking like complete fools. Of course, many of us still end up looking like fools after voicing our opinions. Stupid remarks, not thinking before speaking, the worst offense being pure idiocy. 


I am not speaking of a specific person or an event, but generally I think everyone can agree on the fact that everyone makes stupid mistakes. You'd think that these mistakes would make people cringe at their pasts and just want to erase everything like it had never happened. Unfortunately, that can't be done and, unexpectedly, I found myself thinking that it would never be done. Even if science goes more insane that it already is, even if mountain-topping gurus in the Middle East come up with a method of turning back time and being able to fix past events, I don't think anyone would accept the offer. Of course, some would just to say, "Dude, I went back in freaking TIME!" then pass out on the floor in a drunken doze. But after those events were "fixed" and the futures were respectively altered, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone wanted to re-commit those mistakes. That's how people learn. Thomas Edison found 10,000 how not to make a lightbulb. Mr. Keating in Dead Poets' Society was fired but taught dozens of boys to live their lives in the process. Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came In From The Cold messed up big time by falling in love with a common woman but hey, he fell in love. In all the cases, something bad happened or some mistake was made. Again, in all the cases, something good came about as a result. Mistakes are things that people can learn from. They're templates for what not to do, saved in the person's subconscious.  


"Let's go bungee-jumping."
"Yeah, I don't think so. I jumped off my bed once as a kid saying that I could fly and I ended up breaking my arm. Have fun without me."


How responsible of Character B that was. But obviously, character B was a miscreant as a child and learned from his experiences. For example, when the "prompt" for this essay was handed out, I started writing down every main point from the Odyssey that I could think of. My mistake? Please, like you would ever have as straight-forward a question as "Write an Odyssey." What I plan on taking from this year is just to never plan out a final exam essay until the blue book is turned the right side up. Silly me. I should have known better. But this is going to be something I remember, a specific event that confused everyone and is probably still confusing them as they finish up the third page of their essays. This somewhat unusual question, as well as next year's utterly confusing and precise AP exam question, are going to be milestones in this year. We (hopefully) will remember these moments (or not hopefully, it really depends). That may be taking it a little too far but I would not put it past people to get home and immediately say to their entire family 


"Do you know what our bloody exam question was? 'Why?'" 


Tomorrow I would like to take a poll. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm the sole person right now that has zero idea what the actual question meant. Who knows? Maybe everyone is just as confused (most likely option) and writing whatever they think of in the hopes that something will click into place and make a masterpiece. A general masterpiece perhaps, but I'm not picky. Only time will tell. If it tells me the wrong answer, I'll just make up my own because who listens to a theoretical concept, anyways?



Hey, he told us to "Be creative. Be bold. Be honest." I was only doing what he asked. Apparently it worked, too, because I got a 97%. Venting win!

Observation Is Key

My English class really can't be constituted as an "English class". If we talk about the book/short story/play/article/movie in question, it's for a whopping 10 minutes and then we end up having a deeply philosophical discussion about using the bathroom. No joke, we have had 11 days of class where we only talked about excrement. It doesn't help that 5 out of the 9 boys in my class have the maturity level of a small rock. My 5 year old cousins laugh at the word "butt" and so do they, sadly. When asked what their favorite discussion was during the entire year, they bring up the time we talked about the Zombie Apocalypse or really how disgusting airplane bathrooms are.

They're both just as gross, if you ask me.

This is exactly what we have been doing the past two days in class. (Not having a zombie apocalypse, that would be way too awesome. I mean the talking part.) Our teacher hands out slips of paper with questions on them like "Of all the books we have read this year, which did you end up liking more than you thought you would?" or something like "Pick a favorite character". Thankfully, I got the more abstract question. "Do you have a favorite class moment?" Of course. It's when we talked about how Europeans go to the bathroom. No. A few responses in, and I realized that the teacher was taking notes. He never takes notes. He was freaking grading us on our answers. Originally I had written down that my favorite moment was when he threatened to "Shear The Lamb" when one kid's hair had grown past his ears, and proceeded to grab a pair of scissors and chase the kid around the room and under the table.

I wasn't going to let myself be graded on a non-philosophical moment like that. Instead, I went with the time we tested our observational skills. You have to understand, my English teacher doesn't go "by the book" (pun intended). In order to test such a skill, everyone would climb up onto the table, one at a time, that we all sit around. After a minute or so of staring at said person, he or she would leave the room, change one thing about their appearance (like buttoning a button or putting a necklace on backwards), then come back into the room and everyone would have to sit and think about what that person changed. Not only did it show me how important observational skills are, but it also highlighted just how badly a lot of people dress. Not judging, just observing. You would be surprised what a lot of people have on the bottoms of their shoes.

I took this moment and the skill it was supposed to teach everyone, and applied it to my writing.

"The devil is in the details."

"You see but you don't observe."

These, as well as several more ambiguously-answering answers, were my replies as to why it was important and memorable. Not so much. I just wanted a good grade. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was memorable, just it was a bit awkward for everyone to be answering so humorously and then have my serious and somewhat emotional response. I'm guessing everyone else realized the teacher was taking notes because today we did the same exercise and almost everyone answered as if it were an exam question.

I'm starting to think it actually is part of our exam. Why else would he be grading us on the second to last day of school?

Just Because It's Called "Group Work" Doesn't Make It So

It's a common tale: a team is assembled in the hopes of creating something wonderful that one person alone could not accomplish. If that has ever actually happened, you are a very lucky person. I have personally never experienced that. One person will always have taken the reins and once in a while (if they're feeling particularly bitchy that day) they will refuse to let anyone else in the group have any say in the project. It's not that nobody else works, rather that one alpha-member won't get off his or her high horse to let anyone else ruin whatever it is that was already accomplished.

I do speak from personal experience, but just in case certain people do end up reading this blog (if anyone does, really) I could get into some serious issues. Cyber bulling is not my aim and I don't want to get close to it, even when I don't know I'm doing it. It's so much easier to just rant about annoying people to others via speaking.

Unless somebody's got a tape-recorder taped to their chest and is recording every word, there's no way anything can be proven in court. 

Here-say is not definitive evidence and when it comes down to it, I really don't want to be arrested.

On that note, back to group-work. Today in AP Microeconomics we had a mock trial about this woman in Florida who was sending spam emails to people in Wisconsin. Sounds fascinating, yes? Only when we get our minds going. Of course, nobody knew what they were doing except the two team captains (in a way) that are the only people in mock trial. They were spewing legal terminology left and right while the rest of us sat in awe, dreading our moment at the stand. But it's the end of the year, grades are pretty much closed, and nobody really gives a crap anymore. Sorry, if any of you reading this are teachers, but it's true. On that note, the non-mock-trial people wanted to have some fun with the case. I became a crazy person that toted a homicidal stuffed rabbit and "Johnson Cookies and Co." decided they would sell erasers. Yeah, if you understand what the heck is going on, please let me know.

Random, but somebody just walked past my window o_0. Thought I'd let you know. In my defense, it seemed important at the time.

Anywhoo, mock trial. I'm not complaining that certain people took charge of a certain side, but at least have other people take a turn at things. On that note, I can't say anything else without heading towards that god-awful cyber bullying, so I'll call it quits. Group work just makes me want to throw a binder against the wall and scream in some ancient tongue that only the crazy lady with the dead chickens hanging in her window in some deserted village in Africa knows.

This will haunt your dreams.