Catching Up

I’m in French class right now. But we’re having technical difficulties, and I’m bored.

So I’m writing my first blog post in quite a few months. Sorry about that.

I’m going to France this summer! The trip looks a lot more promising than our class right now…

What else have I been up to? Exams, clubs, reading…

I read quite a few books over break. I recommend anything by Alethia Kontis or Amanda Hocking. I also recommend Hamlet and These Broken Stars.

I know this is a pretty sucky blog entry. No stories. No funny bits. But I’m a little crabby today, so this is about as good as it’s going to get.

I saw the Hobbit over break! That was good. And so is Frozen. Seriously. I don’t care what sort of movies you usually like, you are going to go see Frozen. I promise that you’ll enjoy it.

Unless you’re one of those people who just hates everything.

But if you’re one of those people, you shouldn’t be on my blog anyway.

Last thought here–anyone know where to find Sherlock season three, episode two??? I’m desperate.

I got into the colleges I’m interested in! That’s also pretty good news, though I’m not entirely sure which one to go to now. How do you decide on something like that? It means everything to me right now. Time is closing in on me and I still have no clue where I want to go and I’m not even entirely sure about what I want to do.

I wish my school offered a class for editing. Then I could see whether I like it or not.

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. 🙂

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?

Back in the day…

This week, as my mom was cleaning out the filing cabinets, she discovered a collection of college essays written by herself and college essays written by my dad. And she read them. And she laughed.

You see, my mother received her degree in elementary education with a major in English and a minor in history. My dad stood on the opposite end of the spectrum, with a degree in information technology. And my dad’s essays were far better.

My mother had me read several of the essays. They were written way back in the Jurassic age when computers were brand new and, therefore, not well developed. Their college professors frequently remarked “Nice font!” and “spelled wrong. OK NEVER MIND.” It makes sense for my dad to use special fonts, I suppose because it demonstrated his computer prowess…

This is the introduction of one of his essays (unedited):

“‘Zigglethworps!,’ the little ugnaut exclaimed as he and his compeers were suddenly jumped by the veracious creatures of the dark moon, Thespolitia. Before the ugnauts could faint from the scent of the zigglethworps despicable breath, Captain Perseus and his crew of steroid-heads blasted the devils with a partio-gelatious beam neutralizer and the ugnauts were saved!!!

What are you picturing? Ask someone else what they picture. The results are different, aren’t they? The difference is caused by imagination. 

Imagination is the ability to conjure up visual pictures and sounds from little to no information. What is an ‘ugnaut’? They don’t exist. The pictures your mind created were made with the imagination. Some think that the imagination is unnecessary to sustain life, but they are wrong. From Adam and Eve to the present, the imagination has played an important part of the human sanity.”

Keep in mind that he was the ultimate procrastinate and, therefore, this was written at 2:00 am the day it was due. He was arguing that imagination is more important than knowledge, and the paper earned him a solid B+. But you have to give him credit for originality and creativity.

***

I also ran into some of my former work. Here are my highlights from “My Poetry Book,” which was written sometime around second grade and illustrated by yours truly.

“Sleeping Beauty, 

Sleeping Beauty

In the castle

In the castle

Singing a song

Picking berries

Sleeping Beauty,

Sleeping Beauty.”

“I like hummingbirds! 

Pretty ones

Fast ones

My favorite one’s the pink nose nakt

hummingbird

It weighs four ounces

I like it because it’s the smallest bird

I like hummingbirds!”

“Fairy

Fly quick

Wings flutter

Flap, flip, turn, twist

Fly, fly, fun fairy”

 

Yep. I was destined for greatness.

And here’s a critique that I wrote about my friend’s story in fourth grade. It’s saved in my portfolio with this introduction: “I AM PROUD OF THIS PIECE OF WORK BECAUSE I like writing and scince [science was one of my favorite subjects at the time, believe it or not] and this pice of work is writing. I did this piece of work with my frend K—–. That’s another way this piece of work is specal.” Here goes (without edit):

“One of your strenths for Ideas was staying on your Main Idea. If you really reread your story you would of found out that your ideas need to be more clear. For organization you have a clear begening, middle, and end. However, your paragraphs need to be reworked/redone. You had some good words for word choice, however, you said some words repeatedly. You also need more describing words. You used good voice when you said “I sighed” and It was nowhere to be found! You need to expand or show more emosions. In sentince fluncy youe have no choppy sentinces but, your writing is ocword at times–you need to rewrite. You did indent and sometimes you used capitlzation and punctuation in conventions. However, you were useing punctuation incorectly. You also had quite a few spelling errors. You did great!”

Because we all know, if there’s someone who can catch spelling errors, it’d be me. This flawless critique proves that well enough…

😛

Such A Very Long Week

That was a long week.
Such a very long week.
I daresay it was the longest week of my life.
For the first week of the semester, I had to wake up at 6:00 every morning. Previously, snow days and holidays led to shorter weeks. I agree that our education system needs full weeks once and a while, but it was painful nonetheless.
Furthermore, I was faced with possibly the most horrific standardized test this week: the ACT. The price of the scholarships I will receive are dependent upon this ACT grade. Not only that, but my parents have so graciously added another pressure (besides “get a good grade or else you’ll dishonor our family”, I mean). If I am able to receive the highest merit scholarship available for whichever college I attend, they will buy me a fully-functional, life-sized car.
So, I think I did alright. I can only hope I performed well enough to honor my family and earn a car.
Following the ACT, though, all the juniors in my school walked around looking more dead-on-their-feet than usual. It was a painful week for us all, I believe. Our teachers are all wrapping up the first unit and beginning a new one, which doesn’t help at all.
And… It was a long week.
Such a very long week.

How to Raise a Teen

This piece is all about raising a teenager. And who better to write it than an actual, real-life teenager?! Here are some tips on how to handle us:

1. When we say that we can’t do chores because we have too much homework, we mean it. Unless you want us to get into a big row and wind up pulling an all-nighter, I suggest you leave it be. 
2. Teens have four meals a day. We enjoy big snacks after school that constitute as a meal, so keep us well-supplied with pop tarts, cheese its, chips, and fruit.
3. We like to sleep a lot, true, but we actually need that sleep. We have a natural tendency to stay up late and sleep in early (not to mention the fact that our homework load makes us stay up late). We need about nine and a half hours of sleep each night in order to be best prepared for the day ahead. This means that those 7 am high school start times cause us to loose sleep during the weekdays. Honestly, we have no choice but to sleep in on weekends, and you’d be best not to wake us up in cruel, torturous fashions.
4. Please don’t use the invisible brakes. I can assure you that they don’t work.
5. When a teen is driving with parents, the parents better not yell when the teen messes up. This only causes confusion. Once, for example, when I backed into the driveway, I misjudged how far I had to turn and wound up heading towards the bushes that lined a side of our driveway. To remedy the solution, both my parents began shouting different instructions to me at once. My mind swirling, I was to distracted to focus, and wound up hitting the gas pedal instead of the brakes. This only made my parents scream more. Moral of the story? Patience is virtue. A calm voice is much more effective than a loud one.
6. Please don’t take away our computers. We actually need them for school. And it’s true that some classes at school also use cell phones. We’re not just pulling your leg.
7. DO NOT do your teen’s homework. This may seem obvious, but you’d be surprised about all the students I know who’ve admitted to this. It’s totally unfair to those of us who actually did our homework ourselves, and it damages your teen’s chances. In college, they won’t have a parent to do their homework for them.
8. Don’t criticize your teen’s appearance. They may act that they don’t care, but it actually hurts. If you believe that their outfit is not school appropriate, try to be the good cop. “Eww– what are you wearing?” or “You look horrible” are probably the worst things you could say. Instead, try “That shirt is really cute, but it’d be nicer if it were longer. Why don’t you wear that this weekend and try something else on for today?” or “Your pants are a little low. Would you like to borrow one of my belts?” If you truly don’t know how to respond, perhaps you should suggest a shopping trip for the upcoming weekend. If you don’t like your teen’s fashion style in general, keep in mind the crazy styles that your generation wore.
9. Please don’t make us walk. You signed on to the whole ‘chauffeur’ business when you became a parent.
10. When we point out a friend or classmate that we see, we do not intend for you to shout and wave, then tell all our most embarrassing stories. And you wonder why we don’t have our friends over that often? I mean, really.
11. Please don’t tell us that our favorite activity is a waste of time or that our life’s ambition will get us no where. Just wait and see where it will take us– perhaps the kid who loves video games really will become a video game designer. Don’t be so pessimistic about your teens!

To those of you out there who don’t have teens, I just have one thing to say: Please stop blaming everything on us. Yes, some teens are bad drivers. Yes, some of us throw wild parties and get a bit tipsy. But yes, some of us found organizations that promote environmental awareness. And yes, some of us go on mission trips and save lives. Please remember that the teens who make it to the news are extremists in some area of their lives. It is much harder for a good deed to make it into the news than for a bad one. Oh yeah, and remember the fact that one day, our generation will be the one taking care of yours.

You were a teenager, too, at some point.

I Must Paint a Cat On a Large Canvas

Today, Gigi told me that I am the sort of person who, when told to draw a cat, will paint one on a large canvas with oil paints.

It’s true.

I always go about things the long way. I always work hard on what requires little effort. I always choose the most time-consuming method.

There can be no room for failure. I MUST succeed. And if, to ensure success, I must paint a cat on a large canvas with oil paints, then, by golly, I will do so.

My Lovely Friend Gigi

I have a friend who asked me to make a post about her.

She’s going to regret that.

To get a good gist of her character, let us venture back into our middle school years. Oh, what dismal, bleak times those were. I met Gigi because she was a friend of my friend. We were mere acquaintances, really. And yet, she had the nerve to peruse my folders and agendas at her own free will. I barely knew the girl!

Fast foreword just a bit more to high school– freshman year. We had several classes together, and through these classes, I learned that she could not knock on a door normally.

This is for your enjoyment, Gigi: How To Knock On a Door

I also learned that she has an obsession with k-pop. An obsession which, sadly, has come to infect me, also. Apparently, it’s contagious.

Now, near the end of our high school life, we are pinned together in our French class, struggling to survive the social rigors. (maybe I dramatized that a bit. It’s not so bad, really, but we do have some very–interesting–classmates.)

It’s tempting to post a picture of her up here because I have several that I believe represent her well. *evil laugh* But, alas, I will respect her right to privacy. You’re welcome, Gigi.

I just realized that I know very few embarrassing facts about her… and she knows many about me.

Great.

I think I’ll just leave it there for today. Now you know a bit of Gigi’s background and will better understand her in my later posts. (many of which will likely involve her)

“Pregnant Peppers” and “My Laundry Is Like the Stock Market”

Today my mother and I were conversing our tiny kitchen about food. Now, I know very little about food. But my mother is a decent cook, and so she knows many different types of food and their typical qualities.

Now, imagine my confusion when she said “I love finding things in my peppers.”

ME: What sort of things are hiding in your peppers???

MOM: Well, I just found a stem in this pepper. And in a pepper I cut a while ago, I found a little baby pepper.

ME: So you slaughtered a pregnant pepper?! Just because it looked all fat and juicy? MURDERER!!!

MOM: Yep. And both baby and mama pepper tasted DELICIOUS.

And this is how I learned an interesting fact about peppers.

***

Last night, I had a shower-thought. (You see, it is my personal belief that thoughts I have in the shower are the best and most intellectual kind of all. And so, when I want to solve a problem, I take a shower.) And I thought it was good enough to share with you all…

Laundry is  like the stock market. Or double dutch jump ropes. I never know the right time to through my clothes in, and it always turns out to be a problem. Here’s an example:

Say that I want to get my favorite pair of jeans washed withing a half of a week. My mom has to do laundry for four people with only one washer and one dryer. I estimate that the best time to put said pants down the laundry chute is the following morning, as my family will have all already dropped their clothes down. At this time, my pants will be at the top of the pile, so my mother can sort them out and wash them quickly.

There are, however, sometimes events that I cannot prepare for. Like my father finally emptying all the clothes out of his suitcase from the vacation three weeks ago. In this case, all of his clothes are on top of my pants, so my pants stand very little chance of being washed within the next week. Sometimes my mother has a laundry-spree day, where she does all of the laundry in one day. Although all my clothes may be clean, my favorite pair of jeans are not, and wind up at the bottom of the laundry pile. This is the worst situation imaginable, as my mother rarely does laundry on the day following a laundry-spree day. My pants would be more likely to be washed if I refrain from dropping them down the chute for several days– until the basket fills again and my mom once more feels obligated to clean clothing.

And so, although there is a typical pattern to the laundry system at my house, unprecedented events cause variation in the results, making the problem of when to drop my clothing down the chute very difficult to solve.

Sands of Time

Sand slips through the narrow neck of glass, urged by laws of gravity and time to meet its fellows at the bottom. Ancient plates of wood attached to the ends of the glass prevent sand’s escape.

How would it feel to be forever trapped in glass? To be forever falling, forever flipping, forever following? To be without water, without rest, without life?

The hourglass sand is trapped in time–bound to the present. It is unable to reflect on the past; it is unable to look to the future.

A desert contained; ever-growing, ever-shrinking. Windless, but never still. Shadowless, but always flown at.

Until time stops.

This would have been much better if it were a poem, but, alas, I cannot write poetry beyond the maturity of rhyming ‘cat’ with ‘rat’.