Deep, Dark Thoughts from the Desk

It’s almost the end of January and I’ve only had 11 days of school so far this year.
The amount of snow is amazing.

Winter’s always been my favorite season. I love the dead trees, dead grass, dead cold…

But I’m not sure anymore. I think I’m more of a fall person now. Fall is better for photography. And this year has been so cold, my hands crack as I type.

Seriously. I need a band-aid. Hold on a sec.

 

Okay I’m back. (I used the Jane Austen Band-Aid, Gigi)

Today is our 8th snow day. I’m a senior, so I don’t have days added on to the end of the school year. I still get let out in May.

But I’m really pissed off about all the snow days. Scatter a day or two here and there, spread out just so that you get a break when you need it most–that’s nice. This? This is not nice. I WANT MY NEW SEMESTER.

Besides, school is really the only place where I can be social.
Unless you count this blog.

But you people don’t get to see how great my hair looks today.

I have a totally new semester and I don’t know exactly who’s going to be in my classes, but I’m hoping for a couple of friends in each one. Maybe the guy I have a crush on will even pop up in a couple classes!

But I can’t know unless we go back to school.

Also, I’m itching to learn. I want to know period four of World History. I want to learn more creative writing stuff. I want to get the January issue of our newspaper published. I want to eat lunch with friends!

Sigh.

Yesterday, I read two books and wrote a story. Today, I’ve written two more stories.

I also just went to the library and stacked up on books again. I’ll probably read another book by tonight.

And if we have another snow day, at least I’m prepared, though unhappy.

 

PS–You should check out my goodreads account. I have quite a few more books read and reviewed. 🙂

First week of school

1. I’ve been appointed Official Protector of Sixth Graders (aka my brother and all his friends) on the bus. There’s not a whole lot to protect them from yet. Besides each other, I mean.
2. There are actually 11 people in my AP French class. That’s a big improvement from last year’s measly four. We also got to play with play dough. I enjoyed that.
3. AP Literature seems fun, too. Lots of reading. 🙂 I’ve already read a couple of the pieces we’re supposed to analyze this year, but that’s okay. At least I only have to read Heart of Darkness once… (GIGI)
4. Photography 101 takes place in the dark room using film cameras. I’m disappointed–I would have preferred learning more about digital photography and Photoshop, though doubtlessly some of the work will carry over. Most of my classmates seem apathetic. I guess they took the class because they want an easy A.
5. I have a lot of friends in my lunch (GIGI) and I get to eat in the locker bank this year (senior privileges) and my Mom started to make my lunch again. 🙂
6. AP World History is okay… I wish we had better textbooks. They’re SO BORING. I honestly don’t know how you can make World History boring, but they managed to do it. Maybe I should write history textbooks one day just to improve student interest in social studies.
7. Pre-Calc is math. I don’t like math. Therefore, I don’t like Pre-Calc. My peers are very loud. I need quiet to do math. So that is not a good mix, either. The teacher seems nice enough, though. We shall see how the year plays out…
8. NEWSPAPER is amazing. It’s pushing me out of my comfort zone a lot, but I know I need to be pushed. We just started brainstorming ideas for the first issue and I’ve already collected a decent sum of cash from donations and advertisements. I also scored a position as co-editor-in-chief! I just hope all the freshmen will allow themselves to be stretched outside their comfort zones, too.
9. I’m disappointed in the introduction to some of my classes. The first day is supposed to be where you pitch your class and get kids to love it before you lead them into the more strenuous work. The old “ice breaker, attendance, syllabus” path is not going to cut it at a twelfth grade level. And yet, that’s exactly what a couple of my classes did. Change it up! That style is boring for teachers and students alike. Be creative and specific to your class! Have actual conversations with students! Generate ideas for the year aloud with students. They might have some good ideas! Save the boring syllabus part for the second day (or attempt to make your syllabus not boring! *gasp*).
10. Because school started and my courses are pretty rigorous, I suddenly lack time to read, write, and watch Doctor Who. It’s sad.

The Brown Chocolete Pudding Jelly Bean

I’ve been looking all over for this! I found it yesterday when I *finally* cleaned out the drawers in my room. It’s a poem that I wrote for fifth grade. We were told to write in the perspective of an object or animal and to rhyme. My teacher loved my poem, so she kept it. I didn’t think I had any other drafts, but here it is!

I give you…complete with spelling errors… THE BROWN CHOCOLETE PUDDING JELLY BEAN! (because even if I didn’t know how to spell chocolate, I knew the flavor’s proper name)

***

“Brown!” I cried as I marched back and forth.

“I hear jelly beans look much nicer up North.

Why can’t I be green, orange, or blue. 

Brown is the coler of a smelly old shoe. 

Brown is the color of yucky muddy foam.” 

Just then the door opened on my bag, my home.

“Yippie” squeald the girl who had opened my door.

“Chocolite pudding–my favorite! I wish there were more! 

With its outside so bare, and its inside so yummy. 

I couldn’t find anything more suitible for my tummy!”

I gasped and I said “are you being sarcastic?”

“No,” exclamed the girl, “Chocolate pudding’s fantastic.”

I smiled with joy, I laughed with glee.

Some say I’m the happiest bean there could be. 

***

Admit it. You enjoyed that. I was pretty proud of rhyming sarcastic and fantastic. I should have tried to sell it… though I’d be in competition with kids like Gigi and Liv…

It wouldn’t have gone far.

I suppose, if I were to make an excuse for my spelling errors, I could say that I continually spelled my own flavoring wrong because I was trying to find myself. By the ending, I did. I was chocolate pudding. I was fantastic.

MORAL OF THE STORY: chocolate pudding has to be one of the best flavors. 😉

In a Land of Myth and a Time of Magic…

…the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name…

MERLIN.

So, guess where I’ve been for the past few weeks? Five feet away from the television, staring up with watery eyes at the perfection of the British TV show “Merlin.”

Well, not quite perfection. The graphics were terrible.

But other than that, yes. The actors were perfect, the cameras were perfect, the plots were perfect, the characters were perfect… I use past tense because most of them died.

And I’m okay with that.

So sue me, Merlin fandom. I just admitted that I’m okay with the deaths of Arthur, Freya, Gwaine, Lancelot, Balinor, Elyan, Isolde,  Morgana, and Mordred.

How else could they have ended it? That’s exactly what happens in the end of the legends–Arthur dies. He is wounded in battle. The producers could have made the ending much more agonizing. They could have killed Arthur instantly, leaving him no time to learn that his trusted manservant was a wizard. Instead, they allow him a few days under Merlin’s care, thus allowing him to hear the truth and giving their audience the reaction they had waited five seasons for. More than that, they gave the audience hope. In the final scene, we see an aged Merlin in the 21st century, strolling near the lake of Avalon, waiting for his friend to return as the Great Dragon promised he would.

Oh yeah, and we got to see Merlin’s amazing alter-ego “Dragoon” again before the season’s end. And Gwen took charge of Camelot. And Gaius and Merlin survived.

And Arthur said “Thank You.”

I really don’t know what to call this post.

I’m sure you remember that I once posted about my earlier writing work (and how horrid it was). I recently came across this video of John Green’s reflection on his earlier work. I don’t feel so bad any more.

I sympathize with John Green.

Today, I discovered my younger brother’s poetry journal. I will publish my favorites here:

HAIKU

Freezing icy rain

Pesky mosquitos retreat

It is now winter.

 

GREEK OLIVES

Looks like a wrinkly purple oval.

Sounds like, “YUM!”

Tastes sour and bitter

Smells like…well…an olive.

Feels wrinkly on the outside, juicy inside, and hard in the center. 

Find it at the store!

 

THE LION

The Lion 

shakes it’s golden mane 

on a granite boulder

because it’s king.

 

I AM

I am silly and courageous.

I wonder what our future holds.

I hear silent daffodils.

I see ghasping tulips.

I want a peaceful life.

 

I am silly and courageous.

I pretend many things.

I feel worried about the future.

I touch my own mind.

I worry about the future. 

I cry about death.

 

I am silly and courageous. 

I understand Earth is a pebble in the infinity of everything. [He has a very interesting mind sometimes…]

I say I say, War is pointless!

I dream of world peace. [Seriously, what is it with kids and world peace?]

I try to do my best.

I hope summer comes pronto.

I am silly and courageous.

 

He did a biopoem, too. But he did it on an angry bird character:

Red.

Round, red, feathery, angry,

sibling of Chuck, Blue, Mighty, Terrence, Bomb, and Matilda,

Who loves eggs,

Who fears pigs,

Who needs physics lessons,

Who gives destruction,

Who wants to see the eggs hatch,

Resident of the nest,

Bird.

 

He also had to write a poem about a color. He chose black.

BLACK

Black Shadows, 

Pitch darkness,

Sheep,

Mourning,

Screeches,

Moo,

Dry Plums,

Burnt food,

Liquorice,

Ash,

Metal,

Black Labrador Retriever dogs,

Black is many things.

 

SUN

Sun

Firey yellow

Burning Blinding Shining

Bright star Reflecting rock

Glowing Rotating Astonishing

Distant Craters 

Moon.

 

This one is very logical. I’m glad to see that my rhyming skills are still at level with my brother’s. He titled this simply: RHYME.

There was a cat

Who found a rat

And also found a mat

And wondered why it was flat.

Why was it so flat?

Because it is a mat.

Why did the cat get the rat?

Because he was a cat.

 

WATCH OUT WORLD OF POETRY, HE’S GOING INTO MIDDLE SCHOOL.

[Sorry you had to scroll so much to read all of this post.]

 

The Aquafina Lady and Other Odd Mall Sightings

I spent yesterday evening at the mall with my parents. The minute we stepped through the automatic doors, I heard this woman saying “Hey! Look here! This Aquafina vending machine doesn’t even have any water in it! I mean, how crazy is that? I want water, and the Aquafina machine doesn’t sell water! HEY YOU! I’M TALKING TO YOU HERE!” At this point, I did a quick scan of the halls. We were the only people there. I turned around to see if, perhaps, I actually knew the lady, and her conversation was meant for me. She was gesturing wildly next to the vending machine. Nope. I didn’t recognize her at all. That left one option: walk away quickly. “FINE. That’s cool. Just pretend that I’m not here. Pretend that I’m not talking to you. Walk away! Whatever.”

I don’t think my parents ever realized she was talking to us.

In the same trip, we encountered a waiter singing “Happy Birthday” in a deep, opera voice that was completely and purposefully off key. That was pretty awesome.

The last time I went to that mall, I ran into a group of teenagers dressed in bizarre costumes. This Arabian guy wore a Renaissance dress,  his short female companion wore a huge pink tutu with a matching plastic tiara, and a white guy pulled off a pirate costume. Their other friends were dressed normally and laughing hysterically. My first thought was, “someone lost a bet…”

Can you believe that the Aquafina vending machine doesn’t sell water? I mean, of all things, that’s what confuses me most.

The Things She Carried

1. CHORES:  This consists of mowing the lawn, folding clothes, driving my mom places… You see, my mom fell off my loft bed a couple days a go and hit her back on the way down. She broke two ribs and collapsed a lung. So, the chore responsibilities fall to me.
2. WRITING: I should totally be done planning my novel by now. (It’s been what…six months?) Therefore, I am opening it up to you, dear reader. What do you want to see in a character? That’s where I’m stuck. It’s hard coming up with a solid, realistic, quirky character, so I require your help. (The main character is a 17 year-old girl, Celestia, who’s mad at her parents for moving her to France her senior year. There’s also a 17 year-old boy, Luc, who could use more developing.)
3. READING: Cursed Crime and Punishment…
4. DOCTOR WHO: Hark! David Tennant is calling out to me…
5. COLLEGE: I just sent in one application, I have to send another application soon, I’m looking into attending the honors college, too. I have a lot of questions to ask, too, but I’m not sure what questions they are. (Besides this one: Do juniors in the honors college really have to prepare a 45-minute thesis defense presentation in front of a bunch of staff members within a week of their thesis’s completion?)
6. SCHOLARSHIPS: With all the money we’ve had to spend on medical emergencies lately (my brother broke his toe jumping off a bed), it seems I’m going to really need a scholarship. And if I get a full-ride scholarship, I could get a car, which leads me to my next number…
7. LICENSE: I need three more hours of nighttime driving until I can take a road test. Help. Me.
8. LIBRARY: Yeah, I know this sounds bad. “Tori, you already have so much on your plate…Why would you want more books?” Novels are my kryptonite. I can’t help it. I need novels.
9. NEWSPAPER: Is my school newspaper getting together anytime soon? How will I know, since I lack a Twitter?
10. GOODREADS: Gosh, I really haven’t been keeping up with all my books lately. Whoops.
11. EATING: Yeah, there’s a rumbly in my tumbly.
12. SOCIAL LIFE: Aww, who am I kidding?
13. SLEEPING: so…tired…
14. SEEING: I got new glasses! I’m trying to adjust to my world being clear all of the sudden. It’s odd.
    

    These are my glasses. They’re from Bebe.

15. CHURCH: Yeah, it’s not really a burden. More of a release. But then again, eating isn’t a burden either. Nor reading or writing… They’re just on my mind a lot.
16. COLLAPSIBLE LUNG: Relient K has a new CD. It’s (IRONICALLY) called “Collapsible Lung.” It sounds a lot different from anything else they’ve ever done. I need to devour it and decide if I like the change or not. This is my favorite song from it so far:

I also like Collapsable Lung, I Can’t Complain, and If I Could Take You Home. 🙂

Road Trip

RANDOM FACT OF THE POST: Scotland’s national animal is the unicorn.

I know what you’re doing right now. You’re sitting in front of your laptop, wondering what it would be like to abandon all reason and hop in an RV with five close family members for a week long camp out 15 hours away from that place you call home.
Enticing as it sounds, I don’t recommend it. Oh, it’s fun on occasions, sure, and it gives you a ton of stories to blog about (you will be hearing about this for a while), but it HURTS.
Physically, mentally, socially…
PHYSICALLY
I sit here writing with four bruises polka-dotting my legs, thirteen (an unlucky number) bug bites of unknown origin spotting my body, and a wicked sunburn creeping up my legs, arms, and back. (I must defend myself here–I applied sunscreen four times in a six-hour period and sat with a book in my lap beneath an umbrella. I do wear red very well, though. And with my bright green shirt on, I’m a walking Christmas in June. Long story short, I’m white.) My hygiene has also taken a beating, as I wish jump in and out of the moth-and-spider-ridden showers as quickly as possible. I have neglected my hair, so it sits in an abandoned nest atop my head.
And Aloe Vera gel is rather sticky and shiny and unflatteringly green…
MENTALLY
I sit here, reflecting on this 15-mile drive. It’s in the 80s and our air conditioning is not on. As a matter of fact, our heat was on for three hours before we realized it. We therefore opened the windows in the hopes of cooling down. And then it rained, and open windows were not cool anymore. Now, they’re cool again and my hair/nest is sweeping up into a tornado. The GPS system is not built for RVs. It drove us down a long, thin road and expected us to squeeze through a gate. Only fat vehicles do not squeeze through, nor do they turn around on thin roads easily. This predicament led to a string of swear words from my grandfather, which then prompted my mother to stress over my young brother hearing such angry words, and so loud conversations and monologues wrestled with one another for center stage. The link between the RV and the Jeep trailing behind it continuously unlocks, which paves the path for more streams of swear words from my grandfather and angry outbursts from my now-stressed, tired, and work-burdened father (and therefore more pressure on my mother and more shell shocked expressions from my grandmother).
And mental damage also comes from what conversations do take place. Like each time we stop at a gas station:
GRANDPA: Do you want anything from the gas station?
ME: Nope, I’m good!
GRANDPA: You sure? They have lemonade…
ME: Yep, I’m sure. I’m not thirsty.
GRANDPA: So do you want the raspberry lemonade or the strawberry lemonade or just the regular lemonade?
ME: Grandpa, thanks for asking, but like I said, I don’t want lemonade.
GRANDPA: Okay, then, if you’re sure.
[1 minute later]
GRANDMA: You’re grandpa’s in there buying you a raspberry lemonade, does that sound good?
ME: I told him I’m not thirsty!
GRANDMA: Oh, well he must have misunderstood you.
[another minute later]
GRANDPA: Hey, I brought you raspberry lemonade!
DAD: Here, I know you said you weren’t hungry but we’ll be on the road for a while, so I got you twizzlers.
ME: *facepalm*
EVERY. TIME. WE. STOP.
Worst of all, I really wanted Chick-Fil-A, only to realize they close on Sunday.
I should probably see a therapist.
SOCIALLY
Yes, because every teenager’s reputation is elevated from camping out with their family.
It. Hurts.

*DISCLAIMER: Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy camping. I love my family. But I really feel crabby cooped up in a sweltering, cramped vehicle for 15 hours. I needed to rant somehow. Thank you, patient Internet readers.

Recess

I took a recess of sorts from my blog, as you may have noticed.

Only I wasn’t playing. I was doing homework. Finals next week!

Anyway, this prompted me to write a post about what recess means to me… (cue flashback ripples)

My elementary school was great. Don’t get me wrong. It was virtually bully-free. But in order to be bully-free, we had to be stripped of several unnecessary rights–many of which involved recess. Whenever anyone got hurt during recess, we had rights taken away.

When a girl threw up on the tire swings, we were told we couldn’t spin on the tire swings any more. We could only use them to swing up and down, which became boring quickly.

When one kid got his leg stuck between the bars of our playground, we were told we had to stay away from the sides of the playground.

After a couple kids tripped in the mud on the field, we could no longer play tag or the blob in the field by the tree.

After a kid twisted his ankle, we could no longer jump of the swings.

We were never allowed to run between swings in motion, throw snowballs at each other, run on the playground, or play dodge ball (like they do in the movies). After a while, they even told us we couldn’t go “penguin sliding” (which was what we called sliding on our bellies down a not-very-steep hill at the time) although no one ever got hurt doing that.

During recess, when I was younger, we would blame the wrecking of our snow forts on the older kids. When we were older, we  blamed it on the younger kids.

At recess, I would plan the film my friends and I intended to be a huge blockbuster hit (this was back when Blockbuster was still around, mind you). I would draw tons of squiggly lines with chalk and make my friends walk the “maze.” I would avoid four square and the basketball court. I would run around tagging people or being tagged. I would create secret clubs, fall down Niagara Falls, turn into a mermaid, sell wood chips in the black market, begin building forts that would inevitably be destroyed the following day, sneak past parapros, fall of the “spinny thing” that never had a proper name and still doesn’t, show off on the gymnastics bars, make my hands raw on the monkey bars, race my friends down the slide, and talk.

It was the golden life.

Except for all the rules we couldn’t break. But I can’t complain much now, since in high school we don’t have any recess.

If you were made of wax…

Today I met Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison, Theodore Roosevelt, JK Rowlings, Beatrix Potter, Al Capone, Cleopatra, Babe Ruth, Shawn Johnson, and Vera Wang. I was not dreaming, I’m not on drugs, and I do not see dead people.
My brother’s elementary school had their annual wax museum project. My brother went as Nikola Tesla to give a speech about his accomplishments, which included saving the lives of many poor pigeons, one of whom he spent $2000 dollars on and loved “like he would have loved a woman.”
Tesla was really an amazing fellow. He feared hair and doctors. He loved the number three, pigeons, and science. He hated Thomas Edison. Edison was his enemy, but things didn’t really go well for Edison. While Tesla supported AC electricity, Edison supported DC, and called AC impossible (at least until Tesla actually invented it). Edison then went on to use AC in a government-approved electric chair to demonstrate how dangerous that form of electricity was. He executed some poor criminal in an extremely painful way–the man basically melted. But Edison’s plan backfired. Instead of associating the execution with Tesla’s AC electricity, the public associated it with Edison. And, when Tesla’s company was suffering financial strain, Tesla ripped up his contract that gave him all the royalties to his patents so that the company could live on. Plus, he had a really sweet mustache.

Tesla always wore formal clothing. He was a quirky fellow…

But I’m not here to talk about Tesla. No, I mean to talk about the wax museum project. What if I were to do the project now? Who would I be?
I could be Charles Lindbergh and talk about my son’s tragic kidnapping, brag about my trips all over the world, and flirt with all the ladies. But that would be awkward because I’m a girl.
I could be TS Eliot and just recite brilliant poetry the whole time.
I could be Alfred Nobel and complain about my misused inventions and my horrible life.
I could be Al Capone because I could do a lot of creative things as him. (“I spent a lot of time working in soup kitchens and I donated money to charity. This helped me escape from the police’s notice and relieved my conscience at the same time!
I could be Teddy Roosevelt because he rode a moose.

You wish you could ride a moose…

I could be Alice Paul because she was a pretty amazing feminist. (You may know her from the movie “Iron Jawed Angels“)
I could be Nefertiti because I love ancient Egypt and Cleopatra is so overrated.
I could be Harper Lee because her friends told her they would cover her expenses for a  year while she went to write a book.
I could be Abigail Adams because we all know she was the brains behind the country.

I could be Joan of Arc because she was one deadly heroine.
I could be Jane Austen because… MR. DARCY.
I could be Sarah Emma Edmonds because she was a little-known (thus effective) spy dressed as a man during the Civil War.
Yeah. I’d probably be her.
Who would you be?