What are you doing New Years?

I'm attending a snow war at the beach. It should be extremely fun, and freezing, but mostly fun.

2009 is coming to a close. It's almost hard to imagine. Well, not really. What's really difficult is to create some sort of artificial milestone out of it. I mean, really, in the scheme of things, what happened in 2009? I feel as if the year has barely started, but it's already drawing to a close.

I know that things did happen last year. I mean, I went from one stupidly overwhelming crush to a different stupidly overwhelming crush. If that's not monumental, I don't know what is. I did extremely well in school my sophomore year. I wrote a provisional patent and filed it. I'm fairly certain I made friends, although it feels as if I've known everybody forever, so it's difficult to sort them out. It feels, all in all, however, entirely unmonumental. Here I am, sweet sixteen, and not a hell of a lot is going on. I mean, there are things, but it feels as if all of my energy is directed to this great, glorious future I'm hurtling towards, a future that will probably consist of long nights in the lab for absurdly low pay, but also hopefully lots of amazing geeky friends, and enough science that I have to keep the doors open at all times so that the science doesn't overflow and explode.

I think that should be my life goal, actually. Become enough of a scientific presence that if I'm shut in a closed room the science spontaneously combusts.

Good plan.

Home Is Where the Boredom Sets In

The funny thing about being at home all day is that one really doesn't do anything interesting enough to blog about. The most exciting thing I've done thus far is buy a new pair of pants which I fear may become permanently attached to my derriere, seeing as they're so warm and comfy that I can't bare to take them off.

That bare above is actually supposed to be bear, but I was making a pun/homonym that is somewhat funny. And weakly supported. And not really that funny. At least it's in English, though. Homonym-like code structures in perl are easily the stupidest thing I've ever heard of (although, dear, dear, beloved coding language, I say this only because you are too intricate and complex for my wee little human mind to handle, and I mean no offense. Well, I can mostly handle it. I'm having an easier time with perl than I am with my TI-89.).

That is a long enough parenthetical that I should probably just add it into the text, but I'm really not in the mood.

Facebook Reminders

Facebook has determined that nobody should have to w(h)ile (I looked it up, the h is optional) away the hours on their own homepage without being contacted. I believe that the primary motivation is to keep friendless emo children from becoming bitter and offing themselves.

It has apparently decided that Mario is "at risk." Well, it's either that or it's realized that I've looked at his profile far more often than I've actually written anything to him, but I don't think it's designed to do that. I mean, I don't facebook stalk my parents or my cousin, and they still show up as being poor little lonely people every so often. That's never with the tenacity of this suggestion though.

It's been going on for two days, every single time I open up my facebook. Reconnect with him. Send him a message. Share the latest news. Say hello. Write on his Wall.

Because a frequent reminder of him is exactly what I need.

I eventually got so sick of this that I switched to English (Pirate), so at least the reminders are more entertaining. Divvy spoils with yer friend. Scrawl on pirate's Plank. Send a parrot to squawk at him. Keep ye eye on th' sea dog. Greet the land-lubber. Trade pirate stories o' the seven seas.

It's a shame that facebook can't remember if Mario is a land-lubber or a pirate.

Twelve Months of Tea

This is blatantly ripped off from Dr. Jay, who stole it from Dr. Isis. It is the first post of each month of the year, accompanied by the first sentence of the post and the first comment on it.

January: I apologize for never writing and rave about my love of Girl Overboard.

Well, would you look at that. I haven't written in a very, very, very long time.

------I was still blogging anonymously, so there are no comments on this post.

February: I read A Thousand Splendid Suns and experience emotional overload.

I forget, sometimes, what finishing a good book will do to you.

------Ditto.

March: I attempt to teach my younger sisters to notice sexism in advertising.

There's gonna be snow tomorrow, and I, for one, am psyched.

------Do I need to write anything?

April: We are introduced to the perversions of Nyx's chemistry class.

Two tenth graders in science class today.

May: I introduce myself to the communications medium of texting.

The rest of the dream makes even less sense than the first half, so I think I won't bother with it.

------Vicky: HAHAHA your conversation with mario is really funny.... Question though: why would you possibly tell Mario that your random friend from camp types fast?? I can just see that scene: Mario sitting peacefully reading the WSJ, you texting away then you blurt out: Hey Mario, my camp friend can type fast!!

June: I blow off studying and my U.S. portfolio in order to make lots and lots of schedule permutations.

The massive tree chart at left is what I used to make certain that I had accurately determined all of my possible schedule options (I had, and they are included at the bottom of this post).

------Vicky: OMG teaaaaa.....I can't believe you did that!! usually I just randomly make like 9 scheds a couple days before arena!! that's sooo cool, would you make one for me??

July: I get lost at the train station.

I am back in my home, sweet home, and I am oh so very happy.

------Vicky: OMG TEA!!!!!! I was at the YMCA (on main street) because my brother was working out there (yea, I know Gretch, someone in my family does actually exercise!) and I went over to the snack machine to get a snack. The snack machine's background/casing was made with 5 or so pictures of kids playing sports at the Y. AND guess whose picture was big (like 3 feet tall 2 feet wide) and front and centered? MARIO'S!!! I was like OMG! it's mario and my mom was like who? and I was like "this boy Tea know" and my mom said "why would Tea know an 11 year old (it was a younger pic but it was unmistakably Mario!) and I was like "he's 15 or 16 now...." anyway, I just thought you'd want to know that there is a picture of your lover emblazoned on the TMCA food machine...(not just like a picture taped on, his image was actually part of the machine!!!) your most faithful mario spy, vicky/bruney.

August: A detailed description of plumbing issues in my house.

The plumbing in my bathroom, my sisters' bathrooms, the living room powder room and basement is out. Although my dad has not yet determined why, we still aren't allowed to so much as wash our faces in this half of the house.

------Gretchen: hmmm...not sure what to say...

September: I recount my first day of school.

Guess what, everybody- I survived.

------Gretchen: yeah, my day was okay until english. i sat in the front and i didn't see nyx for some reason. i was all alone... :( i'm going to see her in the morning tomorrow. still hoping...

October: I gush about science.

The math team advisor who is known to call the house at odd hours just called and informed that I'm on the A-team for the meet next week.

------Gretchen: noooo mrs. cumulonimbus didn't flag down Irving!!! we did. well holly did. we were in the library and cumulonimbus had alread yleft! holly was just like "irving! can you come over here for a second?" after he left we found out that she didn't actually know him. of course mrs. cumulonimbus knows Irving!! she's the only one who teaches physics C

November: Halloween is detailed.

I haven't posted for the past two days because I didn't get home until after midnight, at which point I figured there really wasn't much point, since it was actually tomorrow.

------Gretchen: what pants were you wearing?

December: I freak about Mrs. Hirten's group assignments.

The first day of class, she thought that Edmund and I were twins.

------Gretchen: i am so sorry for you. if it gets worse, feel free to come running into my english class

Days for Dreaming

Last night was the second in a row that was full of oddly vivid dreams. I'm still trying to figure out what, if anything, they mean.

Dream 1:

I walked into Spanish class, late, per usual. Gretchen was already there. There were laptops from the cows on all of the desks, and Tom sat behind me in Rae's desk, which I find strange, since I'd never noticed that he was in our class. I shrugged it off and logged into facebook on my laptop (which should have tipped me off that this was a dream, but, alas, it did not). I went to Tom's page, because I couldn't figure out why he had spontaneously showed up in my Spanish class. I started flipping through his profile pictures, and for some reason, I had the ability to change which photo was his profile picture, so I did. Then Gretchen started coughing violently and gesturing towards Tom, who could see over my shoulder at my screen and had turned bright red. I turned around to apologize, and his eyes got all huge and he looked the way he did in fifth grade that time he told my my braces looked nice, which is really the only old memory I have of him. The bell rang and Gretchen and I left class. I was still flipping out about what Tom thought of me.

I went up to physics on the third floor. The only faces I can remember are those of Tybalt, Genevieve (British, not in my physics class or any A.P. English) and Leda (in my gov class, used to be going to counties with Sergio but now has a boyfriend). Right before class ended, Tybalt kissed Leda and then confessed to having a massive crush on Genevieve.

We left class, and Tybalt, Gretchen and I were suddenly walking out of the cafeteria into the music wing. We all realized that we were going to miss our buses. Tybalt and Gretchen took off, speed demons that they are, and I tried to keep up, but these large crowds of Players and Orphenians, fully costumed, kept getting in my way. By the time I reached the orchestra room, Tybalt was long gone, and Gretchen had emerged out of the farther door and taken off running. By the time I reached the front entrance, I was the only one there, and the buses were gone.

End Dream 1.

Dream 2 is weirder. Much, much weirder. I promise you, it is nowhere near as inappropriate as the beginning makes it sound.

Dream 2:

Harry and I were both doing pit orchestra for Little Shop of Horrors, and for some reason still unknown to me, this entailed him staying in my room. I woke up in the morning and he was in the other bed and I started flipping out because I thought that I'd forgotten and gone to sleep naked for some reason. I stood up out of bed, panicked, but discovered that I was wearing cute green pj pants and a blue tank. However, the tank was kind of see through, so I decided I needed a different one. A newer, brighter blue tank top with conveniently built in bra was located on the foot of my bed, where I had presumably dumped it at some earlier time. After I took off the first tank top to swap, I looked into the TV on wheels like they had at the middle school that had been set up where my keyboard usually lives. I could say Harry reflected in it, standing behind me, frozen in place and staring at my reflection in the TV. He had slept in the same clothes that he always wears, a white t-shirt and somewhat too-short cargo pants. He decided that if I was changing, he should to, and by the time I had my arms lined up in the second tank, he'd swapped from a plain white t-shirt to one with these blueish glowing peacock feathers on it.

As I was putting on the second tank top, it turned into a dress and I got stuck, the entire skirt of the dress facing upside down around my head like a pathetically limp dog cone. I attempted to maneuver myself into it, but was unsuccessful. "Harry? Could you, uh, help?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and pulled the tank down over my arms and torso. He didn't let go of my wrists. I looked up at him, confused, and his eyes had gone all brownish greenish, and they were swirling in a weirdly hypnotic manner. He said something unintelligible, containing the phrases "can't let go," "God," "Jesus," and something about loving arm muscles, which is absurd, because I hardly even have arm muscles. He started to back away, still clinging to me, and I followed him, entranced. He stopped after a step and leaned forward, closer and closer. When we were about two inches apart, I leaned forward and kissed him, a sloppy sort of first kiss in which all that happens are squished noses and lips pressed together, and for some reason I could feel the imprint of my braces on the inside of my lips, which is absurd, since I haven't had braces in years. I pulled back after an instant, and his eyes had turned pale blue and he looked like he was about to pass out. "Was that nice?" he asked.

"I don't know yet," I answered, and the entire dream shifted. Harry was gone, but I was still standing in my room, and I knew, somehow, that he would be back, and that I just had to kiss him again and we'd get further than that stupid clashing of metal on teeth. I opened the door and walked down the hall to the basement. There was a window that doesn't actually exist, and through it I could see Corbin Bleu's hair as he walked through the jungle that had sprung up behind my house. I had an abrupt fear that the Harry here had turned into Zac Efron, and I was very worried. I decided that I'd have to wait and see and I walked down the stairs. Sparky (Aqua's dog) and Rufus came running up the stairs as I descended. Purdy (she advised Becky to temporarily break up with her boyfriend to show him what was important) was down there. I asked her what I should do about Harry, she said she'd get back to me later, since she had an appointment.

Elaine (Julie's friend who is fond of lolita dresses) came down with a girl who was about ten years old; I assumed the girl was her daughter. The daughter and I tried to play chess, but none of the pieces were actual pieces, so I decided to transfigure them and pulled out my wand to do so. I tapped each in turn, but the bishops stubbornly refused to do anything, and the pawns remained little pieces of trash.

I woke up in a cold sweat, the only thought in my head that I had to find Harry.

Emunction

Before today's Christmas pageant, I sat in the chapel with three of my wonderful cherubs, aged seven and under.

Cherub #1: You just picked your nose!

Cherub #2: Did not.

Cherub #1: Did too.

Cherub #2: No, I didn't. I scratched it!

Cherub #1: You so picked it.

Cherub #2: I did.

Cherub #1: It's okay. I pick my nose too.

Cherub #3: Ewwwwww. That's gross.

Cherub #1: Is not.

Cherub #2: Yeah, it's not.

Tea: Actually, it is. Does anyone need a tissue?

Then, during the actual pageant, a boy in the front row started excavating his left nostril during "Angels We Have Heard on High" and didn't stop until after "The First Noel."

Time for a Breather

Thank god.

I could not have survived one more day of school. I feel so tired, as if all I need is to just sink into bed and never get up again. I know, intellectually, that I should feel better in the morning, but right now that's difficult to comprehend.

I just watched Slumdog Millionaire. I was confused for at least 50% of the movie, but it didn't matter, because whenever I was confused, I just went mmmmmm, Dev Patil, and it was all good.

My family is so high on Christmas spirit that it's insane. Gretchen came over and we made meringues and decorated cookies. It was extremely fun. My parents attempted to extract information from her about guys, such as which of the Vaseline twins is better looking. Gretchen thinks that talking about that sort of thing with any adult is absolutely nuts, but to each their own, I suppose. Or, to be more correct, to each his or her own, but that his or hers thing is so very unwieldy.

Bloody Dino

That git beat me at math team run-offs again. Stupid Dino and his perfect 18. I am infinitely cooler than he is. And at least I don't go around poking people in the head with yard sticks.

Because, really, when I'm trying to do a physics lab, and counting pendulum strings in such an artificially chipper voice that I'm struggling not to laugh, the last thing I want is to be repeatedly jabbed in the back with a yard stick. I would really prefer that Dino keeps all of his sticks well away from me.

Ineffectiveness

I am currently reading chartporn instead of doing homework, because I love me some high density graphics. Sociological Images is also a good procrastination tool. If it feels like I'm learning, then it counts. Right?

Good morning, bloggites

I apologize for three postless days. I have been, unfortunately a bit under the weather. Well, that's kind of a lie- I'm not sick, just so stressed out about my research paper and tests and everything else that writing at all seems like just another drain on my energy. However, now that I'm at it again, I'm beginning to remember that it is, after all, rather fun.

Thursday was a very long time ago, and I can remember nothing that occurred then. I suppose it can't have been all that interesting, but it really is unfortunate just how wonky my memory is. I suppose it's the stress. Oh, wait, it's beginning to come back to me. I spent about an hour on the phone with Caroline helping her with the Utexas for physics. Shelby came over and started yelling at me to help with the dishes, and I went "No! Physics tutoring! Go away!" and, miraculously, she did.

Friday I saw The Princess and the Frog, which is now my favorite movie of all time. I couldn't stop smiling while I watched it. I even smiled while I was crying during a sad bit, but not the sad bit that you're supposed to cry at, so god knows what's up with that. The animations were gorgeous. I love that all of the surroundings look like gorgeous paintings, but the characters are still their classic hand drawn selves. I love the way the handful of little lines on their faces can do so much. The music was wonderful, to top it all off. Another bonus- prince Naveen is very hot. Animated characters have a remarkable tendency to make one swoon.

After going back to Nyx's house, I stayed out past driving curfew playing scrabble with Tybalt and Kathrya (and Nyx, who won, of course). My saving grace with my parents (who got home about ten minutes before I did and promptly flipped out, cause Shelby hadn't left out a note saying where I was) was that I stayed past eleven listening to Kiwi as she told us about how all of those kids our age who are partying and drinking all the time will drop out of college and become bums who hang out at bars in town and show up in the paper's police blotter.

I look forward to it immensely.

A Summary

I'm really enjoying these Christmas UPS deliveries. Yesterday: Staples the Office Supply Superstore. Today: a maple store in Vermont, and something totally unidentifiable for Shelby from Virginia (probably from Kat or May).

As far as my research paper goes, I've written a lot, but I can't figure out how to open it. Anecdotes are always recommended, but how can I utilize one? And besides, they just feel so endlessly cliched. There just doesn't seem to be any other opening conducive to a ridiculously long paper on the education of gifted children.

Speaking of English, a spider has taken up residence in the corner of my bathroom. I wonder how long it will live, and what its web will look like. As long as I remember that it's there, it shouldn't be an issue. Hopefully. After writing an entire paper on the spider in the bathroom in Annie Dillard's essay on Transfiguration, I can't bear to kill it. It seems like a good omen for my writing abilities. Either that or it's a precursor of workaholism (spellcheck approved word). Or a massive amount of religious symbolism is about to be dumped into my life. One of the three.

Doorbell

The doorbell just rang. "Are you expecting anyone?" called Mom.

"No," I said, but I got up and went to the door anyways.

Mom got there first. "It's just the UPS guy."

I caught a glimpse of the box. Cardboard. Red lettering: Staples. I smell my TI-89!

Song to Nick Jonas

By A Middle Schooler Near You (well, Tea after she got out of the shower today, because she was entertaining herself. In the shower. And by entertaining herself, I mean writing bad musical-theater-y songs, not whatever you were thinking of, Kathrya)

(Sung kind of to the tune of "A New World, for some of the bits, and kind of to the tune of Ocean Avenue. No, I don't know why)

Nick Jonas

I love you I love you I lo-o-ove you

Nick Jonas

When you ask me to marry you I'll say I do

Cause you're all that I want

from 3000 to forever

and you're all that I need

when I'm burnin' up this world

It's Nick Jonas forever, with the hair and too tight jeans

my Nick Jonas

I saw you

in concert last month and you almost touched my hand

you smiled

at somebody else but I know it was meant for me

Cause you love me right now

with the heart that you have

and you wish you could be here

and not on your dumb tour

it was Nick and me forever, just the two of us, no more,

Nick Jonas

I think we need to talk

I wrote this song last week

and some things have happened since

I've changed

I've grown

I've moved on with my life

Because, you see, Johnny

Johnny from science class

he has hair that's just like yours

except it flips counter-clockwise, way to the left

And Johnny

with his eyes so blue that the sky gets jealous

told Eric who told Laura who told Darby who told me

that Johnny

Thinks that I'm cute

and it made me kind of excited

So, Nick, you're all that I wanted

from 3000 to forever

but I have grown

you've gotten old

and it's time to move on

Because last week in science class

while he was burning methane gas

Johnny tore his eyes from the flame

and he looked at me and said

"movie? friday?" and I said "what movie?"

and he said "whatever you want."

So on Friday, Johnny and I saw New Moon

and a new light dawned on my life

Nick, dear, I loved you once, but better days have come

I can't marry you now

It's not you, it's me,

There's someone else

You're too distant

My heart now belongs to

Taylor Lautner

It's doesn't quite fit but you're really more cute

Taylor Lautner

You've taken my heart so you'll have to commute

You're all that I want

For today and for forever

You'll hold me close

And ditch Taylor like bad weather

Because Taylor

I lo-o-o-o-o-ove you.

Happy Hanukkah!

Again.

We had the family Hanukkah brunch today. Very exciting. I did get new gloves, a new scarf, and a new shirt out of it though, which isn't a bad haul for a mere brunch.

This is a sharp contrast to the current state of the Christmas decorations. We did the tree on Friday night. At least, I think it was Friday night. It's all a bit of a blur. It must have been the e I was snorting. Or is it coke that you snort? I feel like e is a pill... Regardless, family Christmas tree decoration. Very fun. We all sing Christmas carols and try not to cry over the dead dog and argue over who gets to hang what and then laugh when Mom rearranges everything and then when we're done, we sit cuddled together on the couch for a half an hour with the lights in the room off and the tree all aglow and just watch it and talk about nothing.

It's very wholesome. Happy like an old sitcom, minus the sexism. Happy like The Brady Bunch and Leave it to Beaver.

God we're weird.

I almost forgot the generous bag of gelt, which isn't a word according to spellcheck. Whoever made this dictionary is clearly an anti-Semitic bastard. Yay gelt!

This Week At SHP

I got to the station rather ridiculously early because I had to buy a new ticket, and I really wasn't in the mood to move quickly. I stood around for about seven or eight minutes by myself, growing progressively more worried when no one else showed up. I then texted Melissa and called my house. Neither responded. A couple minutes later, pretty much exactly at the time when the train is supposed to show up, Mario walked out of the station.

"Oh, good," I said, and walked over to him. We exchanged the typical perfunctory greetings. "I was beginning to think I didn't have class."

"Oh." He frowned for a moment. "I dunno. I didn't check."

"I called my Dad, but he didn't pick up. I texted Melissa, also."

"She didn't text back?"

"No. I can only assume that she must be asleep, cause she always has her phone with her."

"Yeah." We looked awkwardly around and try to think of something to say. He put his notebook on the ledge. I took my hat off. He picked his notebook up. I put my hat on. He counted the number of pages in the folder. I looked to the direction the train was coming in. I looked the other direction because the sun was too bright.

"Do you think anyone else is going to show up?" he asked.

"I dunno. I think Archie said he had ACTs."

"Irving never comes."

"Melissa's sleeping."

"I dunno about Ariadne."

"Me neither and oh! that's me!" My purse had begun to play Mozart. I pulled out my phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Why'd you call?"

"There wasn't anyone else here so I wasn't sure if I had class."

"What?"

"There wasn't anyone else here so I wasn't sure if I had class."

"I can't understand you."

"There wasn't-"

"What?"

"I wanted you to check the class schedule."

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

"Well it's fine now, Mario's here- it's my dad- and so you don't really need to-"

"He probably should. I'm not certain that we have class," said Mario.

"Could you check? It's on the bulletin board and the internet."

"Sure. I'll call you back when I find it. It'll be a couple of minutes. I'm upstairs. I was in the bathroom."

"Great, Dad, thanks." I hung up. "He has to walk downstairs to check," I told Mario.

He nodded.

"Do you know what time it is?"

I've just come to the realization that if I don't stop myself, I could probably easily reiterate the entire days conversation right now. Well, it'd probably take me an hour or two- we definitely spent at least that long talking- but I'm pretty sure I remember all of it. I guess I'll try to give a highlight reel. We spent a good amount of the time, both up and back, doing colleges. I think that since it's a clear, overlapping interest, and Mario's slightly obsessed, it works reasonably well. What's really funny is when I relate his own opinions back at him, using different words, from things he's told me before, and he just nods along in agreement, sure that I came up with it myself, and not that I'm just trying to fill in his words so he doesn't have to strain himself thinking of them. During the cab ride back, he was talking about the repetitiveness of people's college essays and I mentioned that he sounded like he could work in a college admissions office already.

"I know." He paused. "It's kind of pathetic."

I didn't respond. I wasn't really sure how to.

Purity Lost: Female Vampires in Dracula

A synopsis.

Victorian women were well behaved, unlike Vicky (Happy Birthday!) who wears pants. They also were very pure and chaste, eschewing sexual contact (Vicky merely eschews hugs). When "Dracula" was published, these scary things called feminists were beginning to emerge from the shadows. Actually, they weren't called feminists, just "new women," but the basic idea is the same. In "Dracula," all of these semi-feminists are monstrous, bloody vampires. They want to suck your blood.

For instance, Lucy Westerna. Before being vampirized, she's pure and blonde. Afterwards, she is voluptuous and wanton. Wanton, for all concerned, is not pronounced like the delicious segment of Asian cuisine. This is particularly directed at Jeff, who mispronounced it during English the other day. Also, when Lucy has been stabbed through the heart and killed, she is pure and sweet, not a bloody mess, which is nuts, because she should have turned into a relatively decomposed human body.

Also, the other vampire chicks are ridiculous sluts who make Harker into a mess, because, clearly, he can't retain control of his own sexuality because he is a thirteen year old boy, or something.

So vampires=sex=evil! According to Bram Stoker, anywho.

Love, Tea

Bring Out Your Yarmulke

It's almost time to celebrate Hanukkah. I feel like that means that Vicky's birthday is soon. But I'm not positive. My memory is rather spotty, after all.

The one unfortunate aspect of Hannukah is the lack of really good music. Other than Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel, we're pretty much screwed. Sen. Orrin Hatch of Utah is trying to stop that. He may be a conservative Mormon from Utah, but he promises, he's Jewish on the inside.

An exact quote from the article: Orrin Hatch of Utah loves Jews, songwriting, and Hanukkah. He also calls Barbara Streisand his idol. I tried to find a link to a song I always hear on PLJ about a jew and a gentile where the Jew says he loves Barbara Streisand.

I have a feeling this reporters personal dislike of Hatch made him/her a wee bit more tongue in cheek than is probably proper.

Fun facts- Hatch worked on the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, which was later struck down by the Supreme Court in a case whose syllabus I read for Government. What a coinkydink!

Also, Hatch tried to create a bill which allowed companies to seize your computer if you were found to possess pirated music or other materials. Very scary.

Anywho, here's Hatch's video, and here's the Adam Sandler Happy Hanukkah song, which I haven't heard yet this season, but really consider a necessity.

Why I avoid beautifying rituals

Today, I was really cold, so Mom recommended that I blow dry my hair. I plugged in the dryer and turned it on, but next to no air came out, so I hit a bunch of buttons on the transformer in the wall, unplugged it, replugged it, and turned it on again.

Then it started smoking. My whole room smelled like burnt hair dryer bits and had to be aired out.

My Saturday Night

Kathrya, your commenting system is down, so I suppose I'll have to use this as my mode of communication.

I spent my Saturday night babysitting for my neighbors, Quincy and Quentin. I studied for physics while we ate dinner, then I went to get out the court cases I had to read for gov, only to discover that I brought the worksheet with me but left the cases at home. My plans for productivity thwarted, I resigned myself to actually socializing with the kids.

Quentin, however, had other plans. He spent somewhere in the range of three to four hours playing Roller Coaster Tycoon 3. I knew that I should have kicked him off the computer, but, really, why you consider the amount of time I spend browsing the internet, it felt hypocritical. Besides, Roller Coaster Tycoon does teach basic economics and physics, which I'm sure is good for him.

Quincy and I spent the entire time watching an iCarly marathon. It involved a lot of bad pranks, crazy siblings, fights among friends, and a ridiculous amount of unsatisfied sexual tension (or whatever it is UST stands for). I mean, seriously, Freddie and Sam kissed in the first episode we saw, then the second one made no mention of it, then in the third one there was a huge fight about said kiss, and then in the next one he kissed Sam's twin sister, who he actually thought was Sam, and then in the entire movie they pretended that the last three episodes hadn't even happened. I mean, seriously, Nickelodeon, if you're going to go to the trouble of creating a massive romantic subplot, you might as well actually include said subplot in your hour long movie!

Not that I enjoyed iCarly at all. I am a mature young adult, oxymoronic though that is. I have more uppity tastes. Like Glee. Which is, like, so much more mature than iCarly. I feel like Kim from Bye Bye Birdie on Friday, a flat chested twelve year old with the characteristic orthodontic lisp, singing about how lovely it is to be a woman, with womanly curves and no more braces.

Okay, so I kind of enjoyed the TV show at least as much as Quincy did. Then, after she went to bed, I left it on the same channel so that I could fast forward the commercials. She wasn't feeling well, so she came back down and caught me watching something involving dancing singing guys who were supposed to be 16 year old JoBro clones, but more closely resembled an aging NSYNC. I believe that I have officially undermined my own authority.

Happy Weekend

As Nia passed me when getting off the bus, she said, "Bye!"

I called up towards her "Have a nice weekend!"

"You too," responded both Nia and the random sophomore who I've actually never talked to.

Genie and I were in hysterics for a good few minutes.

Mrs. Hirten Attempts to Orchestrate Romance

The first day of class, she thought that Edmund and I were twins. Now, however, I fear her thoughts have moved to, shall we say, different areas. When he was late to class today, she looked around the room. "Where is Edmund?" she asked. When no one responded, she looked annoyed. "He could use some work. I think he needs a girlfriend," she finished, and looked directly at me. Then she put us in the same group for the Supreme Court simulation. Please don't, Mrs. Hirten. I beg of you, please disabuse yourself of any notions you've developed.

Also, enjoy the holiday theme. In keeping with the advent, I will probably change it frequently.

In Search of Interview Subjects

First, I tried that kid at church who's home-schooled. His belief statement was that he believe in knowledge, so I had high hopes.

"So Alec-"

"It's Jake."

"Right, sorry. So, Jake, do you mind if I ask why you're home-schooled? Did you perhaps find school easy and boring?"

"No. Let me put it simply. The schools I went to sucked."

"Oh."

That was the end of that.

Today, I was walking to science with Julie and Gretchen when we passed Reese, who skipped a grade a while ago and who my English teacher had suggested that I interview.

"Reese!"

He turned, looking confused. "What?"

"You're Reese, right? You know Vicky, we were introduced..."

He nodded, giving me the impression that he remembered, but he might have been just assenting to his acquaintance with the vunderful Vicky.

"Well, this is going to sound kind of weird."

"Okay..."

"Look, you skipped a grade, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I was wondering- that is, I'm writing my research paper- the big junior year research paper- on gifted education, and why it's important, and whatnot, and I've been doing interviews, and I was wondering if I could maybe ask you a few questions, just be email, if that'd be alright."

"Yeah, sure."

"Great. Um, can I just roundcube you or something?"

He shrugged, and I started to walk away.

"Wait, Reese, what's you're last name?"

I got it, I roundcubed him, and now I just need to hear back.

Vicky, if you find the time to mention that I sent the roundcube and can actually email it instead if he gives me an address, assuming you still see him with any sort of regularity, I'd be much appreciative.

Fire

The general rule of thumb for youth group at my Unitarian Universalist church is that everything is better when you can light it on fire.

Today, we wrote what we are thankful for on index cards. My list went something like this.

• I am thankful that I am literate
• I am thankful that my classes at school are challenging, even though I'd prefer it if I had a little bit less homework.
• I am thankful that I can go to school.
• I am thankful that I didn't have school today.
• I am thankful for my awesome little sister.
• I am thankful for my other awesome little sister.
• I am thankful that I can read whatever books I want.
• I am thankful for math team.
• I am thankful for my friends, of course.
• I am thankful that both of my dogs are alive.
• I am thankful that I have a really nice piano.
• I am thankful that I have more things to be thankful for than fit on this index card.

Everyone else just wrote one or two things, like "friends" or "family." After we wrote them, we went outside and stood in a circle. Zuri, who had planned the worship, went inside to get matches. Those of use left outside tried to figure out why we were burning the things we were thankful for. I mean, I get it when it's things you're angry about, but I don't want the things I'm thankful for to go away. When Zuri came back out, she explained that it was because burning things is fun, and also so that we can let the gratitude wash over us with the smoke.

Unfortunately, index cards don't make a lot of smoke, but they do smell rather nice once charred.

Oh, Christmas Tree

My family went today to pick out our tree. We drove a good distance upstate, spent well over an hour hiking around and dithering. I preferred the one with the soft needles, since it wouldn't hurt my hands when I hung ornaments. Mom preferred the one with the sharper needles because it was more symmetrical and would look better in the house. Genovia liked the symmetrical one because it was a better shade of green. Shelby agreed with me. Dad didn't care. He elected Mom to decide, who said that it should be a democracy, so my sisters and I should vote, but Shelby and I elected to abstain from said vote, so Genie had to pick, but she couldn't choose under pressure, and besides, Mom always makes the final decision, so we ended up with the prickly needled one.

We stood around and waited while Dad chopped the tree, complaining about how long he was taking and about how heavy the damn tree was going to be. Mom suggested that next year we needed to bring along a boyfriend to do the heavy lifting and sawing. Shelby looked at me and waggled her eyebrows. I ignored them both and Dad yelled from under the tree, "what's this about a boyfriend?"

"Keep cutting!" we yelled back. I chuckled to myself about the morbid connotations that would have if Dad was an emo teenager.

After it successfully fell, we carried it, using two large sheets of bubble wrap as supports, up the hill (which felt like a small mountain) to the pickup station. Then we marched merrily down to the parking lot, singing Christmas carols. We made it all the way through "The Twelve Days Of Christmas," albeit so badly that the small child walking in front of us had her hands over her ears by the end.

After we collected the tree, we bought cider donuts and drank those free mulled cider samples. It was exceedingly delicious.

Then Gretchen came over, and we talked for so long that my voice is now tired.

Speaking of holidays, does anyone know when Hanukkah starts?

Sweet Revenge

I woke up at 2 am to the beeping refrain of Mozart's Piano Sonata N. 16. Someone was calling me. I moaned and pulled myself out of bed, groping blindly for the phone, which seemed to be located somewhere on my keyboard. The phone stopped ringing, but I, being me, had to see who it was from.

"1 New Text- Kathrya," it said, but the "Happy Thanksgiving" text had been sent at 7 pm, and even if it was central time, it still shouldn't be that much later. It also said "1 missed call," and I thought that was also talking about Kathrya.

"Stupid not sleeping bitch," I grumbled. I turned off my phone and crawled back into bed.

At around 8:30 the next morning, I turned my phone back on and called the number that had woken me up.

They picked up on the first ring. "Hello?" the woman on the other end groaned, sounding hungover.

"Why the hell did you call me at 2 am?"

"What?"

"Why the hell did you call me at 2 am?"

"Who is this?"

"Tea."

"Who?"

"Tea."

"Who?"

"Wrong number," I said, and hung up.

Scrabble

Today, Nyx and I played scrabble. I opened with "qat", which I was very proud of myself for remembering, and a few turns later I put down "sex," which I was again very proud of myself for. A few minutes after that, Nyx started laughing at her letters.

"What?" I asked

"Nothing," she said, continuing to laugh.

"Tell me! Do you have an inappropriate word in there?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh, that's disappointing."

"What are we going to do?"

I sighed. "Ah, well, at least we have sex on the board."

Nyx cracked up.

"What? Nyx, what is so funny?"

"Did you hear what you just said?"

"Yes. Why are you laughing."

"You just said we have sex on the board."

"Oh." I chuckled, and we immediately returned to playing.

"You know," I said, "if Kathrya were here, we'd still be laughing."

Nyx won the game.

Hair, Ruffled

During math team today, I was standing with Dino and Ginny and discussing the rounds. Suddenly, Ginny leaned over and ruffled Dino's hair.

"Hey!" he said, annoyed. "What'd you do that for?"

"It needed to be done," she said simply.

"That's my hair. And you do that all the time. It's so annoying!"

Ginny shrugged. I laughed. Dino shook his head and left.

I looked at Ginny. "What?"

"He has very fluffy hair."

"I wouldn't know, but it certainly looks fluffy."

"Well, I wanted to find out for sure, so I did."

"I can't say I've never experienced the urge, but I think I have better impulse control than you do."

She cracked up.

"I'm being perfectly serious, that's what's so awful! Really, ask Nyx!"

"Okay, okay."

"Do you pet a lot of people's hair, or just Dino's?"

"Oh, lots of peoples. Argon's isn't very fluffy at all."

"Interesting."

"A lot of it depends on length."

"I've always wanted to cut all my hair off just to see what sort of texture it'd have."

"Me too! I want fluffy hair!"

"I'm not sure yours would fluff. I mean, it's so straight. You don't straighten it, right?"

"No."

"Then if you cut it really short, wouldn't it just flop?"

She sighed dejectedly. "Probably. I suppose I'd have to curl it a bit."

"Wouldn't that be a bit difficult if it's that short."

"I'd figure it out."

Massive Suction

I may possibly have spent this entire evening reading fanfiction instead of doing homework. Well, I did accomplish all of my ASR meeting goals, but beyond that, I was reading this. Which I found here. Which I found because of this comic. And I just got sucked into tvtropes again while linking this. Whoops.

I was trying to find a link to a really awful snape/giant squid fic, which I've hear rumors of but never actually witnessed, but I was unable to find one, even with extensive googling. I suppose my mind will have to remain unscarred.

A Payson Develops a Sense of Loss

The show is finally over. Guys and Dolls is kaput. All the free time on my hands may send me into shock. I played the guitar for the first time in two months today. Of course, I could only play for about two minutes, cause my calluses had disappeared and my fingers were tired and it just plain hurt. I also played piano for about an hour, but not Guys and Dolls stuff. Just Debussey sight-reading. It was glorious.

The final show went fabulously. The only snag was that one of the sax's light went out, but it was between numbers, and I passed him a bulb to replace it, because the bulbs are under the grand, but the fixture was too hot, so I just passed him an entirely new light set-up, and he managed to get the whole thing up and running by the time Havana started. Which is good, because the band teacher plays cowbells instead of her sax during that song, so he's doing double duty. He actually used to play maracas, but the band teacher took them away because she thought he was being overenthusiastic. This is coming from the woman who badly bangs the cowbells for the entire song while her facial expression resembles that of a child who has just discovered Christmas. Or Hanukka, if you want to roll that way.

When we got to the pit party, and it was just the two random saxes and Joanne and Cammie and I, we overcame the general awkwardness by dissolving into hysterics over the cowbells. When Ida showed up to the party at her house, she was incredibly confused by how much we were laughing.

We spent a good amount of time gossiping. (Why is Harry so grumpy? Nobody knows, but Morgan thinks his looks would be much improved if we attacked his hair with a weed-wacker. Why the hell is Emily still all over Spencer? He's out and proud, but they still hook up, even though she has a boyfriend. What fabulous flutist has a bit of a thing for a different fabulous flutist? The world may never know.) Anita and Richard tickled each other extensively. Cammie and I interrupted each other constantly. I begin to understand why Vicky thinks she talks a lot.

Also, there are photocopies of Eccentrius's face on the floor of the band room. I, for one, am simply thankful that he didn't go the traditional route and photocopy his ass. Or arse, as Joanne and her mum would say.

A final conversation with Harry:

Tea: I put your music with your bag.

Harry: Huh?

Tea: You left it in the pit.

Harry: Yeah

Tea: By the way good job on the second act

Harry: Yeah

Miscommunication

This week at SHP, it was just Mario, Melissa and I on the train both ways. We were sitting in a three across, with me at the window (although there wasn't actually a window, so I was rather claustrophobic), then Mario in the middle, and Melissa in the aisle seat because it doesn't have a little headrest thing, but she's so short that it doesn't matter. As always, Mario still managed to take up about half the space, because he sits that stupid way guys always do, with about a foot and a half between their knees so that they can air out the junk, or something.

We were having a perfectly reasonable discussion of Irvingisms (things that Irving says frequently, a term coined by Mario, who got an English paper back saying that he lacks control of language, which is basically true, as Vicky can attest to after reading his US portfolio, but he went and talked to his teacher, who couldn't articulate quite what she meant by that, so he doesn't like the teacher, and he's decided that he's going to use his unholy amount of free time to write a book, but you and I know it probably won't be a very good book, seeing as he's not the greatest of writers, but have fun with that, Mario) when Mario broke off mid-sentence and turned to Melissa.

"Melissa," he said, patting her knee. "No matter what you hear, I want you to remember that I am your friend, and that I like and respect you, as a friend."

"What?" she said.

"Just remember that. Also, know that I sometimes like to show off around Irving."

"Mario," she said warily. "What happened with Irving?"

"Just remember what I'm telling you-"

"Mario, we're friends, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So if you tell me this, it won't bother me, but if I hear it from Irving..."

"Well, you'll find out on Tuesday either way, because he said he would tell you at math team unless I told you before hand."

I laughed. "It must be really bad then, if he gave you a warning period."

"Mario, you have just got to tell me now."

"It won't make a difference if you hear it now or later," he said.

"It makes a difference to me. If it's later, I won't hear."

"Don't worry, I'll tell you," said Melissa.

"Besides, you'll be in math team."

"Yeah, but I'm generally on the other side of the room."

"You sit with the people who actually work," said Mario scornfully, which is such a lie because I know he does his math packets.

"Well, I just feel like Ginny and I would be invading if we went and crashed the other side of the room."

"I wouldn't mind. It'd free me from the boy's club," said Melissa.

"Boy's club?" asked Mario, oblivious as always.

"Well, maybe you don't notice it cause you weren't really there last year, but Irving and Dino and Owen and Tybalt-"

"Did you hear Tybalt's doing different rounds this month? He's giving up on breaking into the 4-5-6 thing."

"Yeah, I know, he told me," I said. "He's probably going to take my spot."

"It'll either be yours or mine," said Mario.

"B Team is way cooler," said Melissa, who, along with Owen, rules the B(ench) team.

Mario shrugged. We sat in silence for a moment, before he said, "Alright, I'll tell you."

"Ooh!" I grinned and turned in my seat so I could observe both him and Melissa's reaction.

"Just, remember what I said before alright?" He put an arm over her shoulder. I laughed because the foreshortening of the angle made his hand look weird, but neither of them noticed. "Well, last week I sent Irving a text message that said 'Melissa and I aren't going on the train this week,' and then I realized that it sounded like, well, you know. So he said why and I said because she had a long night."

Melissa and I laughed when we realized where he was going.

"So he goes where are you, and I go where do you think? And then he tried to call and I was like, I can't talk, she's sleeping."

"And he believed you?"

"Yeah. I went into school on Monday and he was like Duuude! I'd tap that and oh my god this is our stop."

The doors had already been open for a half a minute, so we jumped up and rushed off.

"That would have been bad," I said.

"That's a bit of an understatement," said Melissa. "And he really thought we were having sex?"

"Well, I strung him along for a couple of days, and he literally had no clue I made it up."

"Are you serious? He never said anything to me," said Melissa. We started into the tunnel that goes under the tracks.

"I just can't believe he believed me."

"Maybe he just wouldn't expect you to lie," I said.

"Seriously, though. I mean, you can't just sleep around in high school. Your dad comes home in the morning and sees the car and doesn't think anything of it? Please."

We reached the other side of the tunnel. I turned to go left, Melissa began dialing on the phone which hadn't left her hand, and Mario looked around, confused. "Why am I on this side of the tracks? I'm parked over there."

"I dunno. I'll see you later," I said, and started walking.

"Wait, you drive?"

"Yeah."

"Where'd you park."

"Over there."

"There are spots on the other side."

"I know, but I drive a truck, and I don't like taking that turn."

"Oh."

Melissa waved goodbye and started walking the other way. Mario turned to leave. "Bye, Tea."

"Bye."

I was still laughing when I reached the truck.

Comparison

Name 13 people you can think of right off the top of your head. Don't read the questions underneath.

Remember that? I did it a while ago, and now I'm doing it again, for comparison purposes (but mostly because I don't want to do homework). The new top 13:

1) Mario, still

2) Nyx, as always

3) Gretchen

4) Vicky

5) Genie

6) Kathrya

7) Shelby

8) Julie

9) Avon

10) Tybalt

11) Dino

12) Lysander

13) Bryant

How did you meet Vicky?

Sports and fun camp!

Something about Mario?

He walks funny, to the point where Kathrya saw him and said "Tea, he's awkward, right?"

What would you do if Nyx and Vicky dated?

Laugh uproariously.

Have you ever seen Mario cry?

Now that would be entertaining.

Tell me something about Dino.

He's madly in love with Javier.

How long have you known Julie?

Since freshman year, when I saw her with her rolling backpack and thought of Battle from Empress of the World.

Would you date Vicky?

Of course. You up for counties, dahling?

What do you think about Lysander?

He's nice enough, but his sheer awkwardness makes me nervous, and the fact that any of his friends thought that I should be set up with him is enough to make me panic, just because, well, I dunno, guys make me panic in general, and he's just so awkward!

What would you do if Genie confessed they liked you?

Of course she loves me, she's my sister.

What does Gretchen do for a living?

Homework

Would you ever live with Nyx?

Of course. How 'bout it, roomie?

Is Vicky single?

yup

Where does Kathrya live?

Awesomeland

What do you think about Gretchen?

She's amazing. That just about covers it.

Fact about number Avon?

A human representation of Hermione, but nicer.

What's the best thing about Nyx?

I can crash her house.

What's your best memory with Vicky?

Portfolios, all the way. And just U.S. history in general. Did you hear that Opmin used the colors one as an example!??

Best physical feature for number Lysander?

Anything except the mutton chops.

What do you think about Shelby?

Best baby sister a girl could ask for.

Does Mario mean a lot to you?

A chapter of my past, maybe?

Have you ever kissed Vicky?

We hooked up last saturday. It was bliss.

When's the next time your going to see Nyx?

Tomorrow.

Is number Genie pretty?

Gorgeous.

What was your first impression of Bryant?

That was elementary school. You think I remember?

Have you seen Tybalt in the last month?

I saw him in physics last period...

When was the last time you saw Mario?

In the hallway after school.

Have you ever been in Vicky's house?

No, I have not.

When's the next time you'll see Tybalt?

Tomorrow, in physics or calc, whichever comes first.

Are you really close to Bryant?

like this (makes a peace sign)

Have you ever been to the movies with Lysander?

HAHAHA NO BUT SOMEBODY HAS

Have you ever gotten in trouble with Nyx?

I don't get into trouble.

Would you ever hang out with number Mario?

Hmmm, no.

What do you and number Kathrya talk about the most?

That's what she said.

Do you even know Avon?

Of course!

Would you give number Genie a hug?

Yup.

Would you ever go on a date with number Bryant?

It would depend on the circumstances (i.e., if the world was blowing up, or he turned out to be really amazing, sure)

What is the best thing about your friendship with number Nyx?

I can talk to her about anything.

What is the worst thing about number Avon?

Goddamned republican.

How long have you known number Genie?

However old she is.

Does number Shelby have a boyfriend/girlfriend?

I hope not.

Have you ever been a co-worker with number Lysander?

We're in science together?

Have you ever wanted to punch number Dino in the face?

Yes, every day.

How did you meet number Shelby?

Well, she was born.

Did you ever accidentally physically hurt number Tybalt?

Not that I know of.

What is the best memory you have with number Nyx?

I have to pick one?

Do you live close to Bryant?

I dunno. Where's he live?

What is number Gretchen's favorite food?

Something delicious.

Who is the most flirtatious?

Why isn't Benny on this list?

If you could change one thing about number Mario, what would it be?

Make him less of a complacent ass. Is that one thing?

Say something nice about number Kathrya.

I lurve you.

Which ones live the farthest away?

I'm not sure. They're all in town.

Which one do you hang out with the most?

Nyx

Who is the loudest?

Shelby

The quietest?

Lysander

What kind of car does Vicky have?

VICKY CAN DRIVE?!? GET OFF THE ROADS!!!

Why the show sucks:

At first, it was only Vina, a bit part, who had to leave rehearsal a few weeks ago because she was throwing up. Then Blamo missed all of hell week and the entire opening weekend, but he was only Joey Biltmore, so nobody really cared. Then Shen twisted his ankle and broke two ligaments at the end of the first act and did the second act on a cane, but everyone figured he'd be fine in a week. Then we reached Wednesday, and discovered that Shen had swine flu. Ordinarily, his understudy would step in, but Ian is the funniest Big Jule ever seen this side of the Mississippi, and even though Joey, who actually is big, was understudying Big Jule, it just wouldn't be the same, so Spencer, who plays Nicely-Nicely, and knew most of the lines already, offered to step in. Now, Spencer isn't double-cast, but he has an understudy, so he would play Nicely-Nicely and the whole shindig should go nicely, but, see, Harry the Horse, one of the larger gambling bit parts, is double cast with Brandy Bottle Bates, but one of them got sick a few days ago, so Nicely's understudy got trained as Brandy-Bottle Bates, and Harry the Horse went on being Harry the Horse, but with the understudy promoted, they had to train someone else as BBB, and he royally messed up his line, calling Adelaide's jewelry "repulsive" rather than "vulgar," but to make matters worse, the other Harry the Horse got sick, and we're already down so many gamblers they decided to have the assistant assistant director do it, but he knows none of the lines, so he's reading out of the script, and to make matters worse, Emily caught swine from Shen, seeing as how their always nuzzling noses on stage, and her understudy knows most of the dialogue, which would normally be fine, cause Shen could cover it up, but since he's gone, and Spencer really only knows the dialogue for the scenes that Nicely-Nicely is in, the entire pre-Lament dialogue went entirely out of order. To top it all off, Kate wasn't there, so I don't know what will happen if Nick's sister ends up playing across from both him and Sam, because there's no way all of that kissing is going to go over well.

I was going to talk about falling over...

but Kathrya has it covered, although she did miss the one where I fell off of my own chair during math.

In that case, I'll have to use an alternate story.

One fundamentally awkward aspect of the school bathrooms is the presence of those little communal tampon bins, particularly in the cases where the bins were removed from the door and instead sit between the stalls, displaying their bloody contents to the world.

Now, I don't know about you, but I don't really want the acquaintance in the next stall over seeing the evidence of my menstrual cycle as it seeps through the toilet paper I wrapped my tampon up in. It's a private, personal part of being a woman. And I'm proud of my vagina and all that jazz, but I still think the blood is gross, and I generally avoid announcing the current state of my bits to the world, this blog and Nyx aside.

However, today, as I was swapping my own feminine hygiene products, Becky (an extremely petite senior in my physics and government classes) dropped an applicator into the bin. My first thought was "How odd, I thought seniors were post-menstrual and didn't get their periods."

Time Travel

"Mr. Mubble?"

"Yes, Umber?"

"Does the Hubble telescope see back in time?"

"What?"

"Is it like a time machine? Cause you said it can see all the way back to the big bang."

"No, it's not a time machine."

"But, like, if you turned it on Earth, wouldn't you see stuff that already happened."

"No. Well, yes, but not very long ago."

"So, could you use it to look at historical events and see what actually happened?"

"No. The delay is whatever the speed of light is, so you'd only see back a few milliseconds. For instance, right now you're, what, ten feet away from me. Now, let's say you pass out riiiiigggghhht NOW."

"Huh?"

"Now, you're passed out, but I don't see it right away."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"You're not going to just stand there while I'm on the floor."

"Well, not for very long. It takes something like three nanoseconds for the image of you falling to reach me, so there's a delay. If you pass out on the moon, the delay is longer. If you pass out on the sun, it's 7 minutes."

"Because if she's on the sun, all she's going to do is pass out," I muttered, forgetting momentarily that the sun is gaseous and you can't truly be 'on' it.

"Wait, so if I took Hubble to, like, Pluto, then would I see stuff that already happened?"

"Yes, but you won't see anything from before your telescope took off."

"Oh. Okay."

Grumpy Bastard

Harry sits in the band room, glaring angrily at absolutely nothing, as the pit orchestra returns from playing the second act.

Tea sits down and looks at him, concerned. "Did you move that entire time?"

"Yeah. I played for a while." He nods towards the old upright with no high C and a permanently out of tune low F.

"Oh." Tea pauses, giving him a chance to continue, which Harry, being Harry, doesn't take. "It's just, it seems like every time I see you you're staring moodily into the distance."

"Yeah." He pauses. "I do that a lot."

Another pause.

"A hobby," says Tea.

"What?"

"It's like a hobby."

"Yeah."

Science in the Air

Cyto was actually really fun today, despite the fact that Melissa wasn't there. I got to hear all about my teacher's drinking habits, which was fun. She could never teach at an actual high school, though. This is a woman, after all, who described purified microtubules by saying that they look like sperm, and then poetically going on about how they sparkle when you hold them up to the light (like Edward Cullen!)

At one point, there was a bit of a commotion on my side of the room. Guy-who-sleeps-with-his-head-out-the-window (GWSWHHOTW) had reached out and picked up a bunch of rocks, then passed them to boy-who-pays-attention (BWPA), who passed them to cute-Indian-boy-with-warm-smile-who-looks-far-too-young-for-this-week's-black-leather-jacket (CIBWWSWLFTYFTWBLJ), who turned around and gave them to me rather than continuing sideways and passing them to angry-tripping-note-taker (ATNT).

I looked at CIBWWSWLFTYFTWBLJ questioningly. "What?"

"I dunno. Pass it on?"

I turned to Bored-Asian-writing-English-paper-on-netbook (BAWEPON). "You want them?"

He ignored me, so I started passing them to girl-I've-never-seen-before-who-showed-up-midway-through-class (GINSBWSUMTC), but I couldn't fit them all in my hand at once, and her hands were even smaller, so she dropped one, and we were all laughing so hard that the teacher stopped class to figure out what was going on.

I was laughing the loudest, so I had to answer. "They gave me rocks!"

"Who?"

"They came from him," said CIBWWSWLFTYFTWBLJ.

"Are these a new courting ritual or something?" she asked. "Giving people rocks?"

"I like them better when they're shiny," I muttered.

ATNT took GINSBWSUMTC's rocks and passed them to the teacher. "These look more like bricks," she said. "You've got to get nicer ones."

"What should I do with these?" I asked, gesturing to the ones currently occupying my desk.

"Well, if you want to accept GWSWHHOTW's courting ritual, you can keep them."

I thought fast, trying to think of a way to get rid of the rocks without saying anything offensive. "You know, I would, but I really don't want to get my bag dirty."

"Bring them up here, then. My husband and I can use them as a conversation starter next time we have a dinner-drinking-dinner party."

Survived Opening Night

I then tried to buy decongestant from CVS, but apparently that's illegal now. I saw Mario and Marsh at CVS from a distance. I'm not sure if I want to know what they were buying.

New Favorite Thing

Completely incongruous captions.

Illness

I have a low grade fever and will be staying home from school tomorrow. Hopefully the dress rehearsal will manage without me.

Stop the Pops

A booklet found inside my copy of Eragon, which I'm currently rereading.

Cover:

NEWS THAT POPS SHOULD NEVER SEE

Featuring: Quinn... Gone

TABLE OF ConTents (the truth)

By Genie

Rules.......................1

More Rules............2

THE Plan................3

Quinn & Kate.........4

Quinn is gone........5 (special edition)

The Oath................6

IHATEKATE.........7

RULES

1. Never trust a pop

2. If you lose a friend to The Pops, Join The club to make it easier to move on

3. Be wise! stay away from pops

4. Do not say 'like' more 10 times in every 2 seconds

5. You must Hate The backstreet boys and Jessie Mcartney to be in the club

6. KATE is the only Pop you can have fun with

THE PLAN (a real plan)

by Genie

Even though I hope Quinn's popularity is only Temporary I still am going to ditch her if she comes back to my table at lunch. Like when she scooted to the other End of the Lunch table on my friend we will do the same For her. Scoot away. I don't want to but If I have to I will.

QUINN+KATE

Quinn was totally in love with M. she wanted to marry him. M is the 5th grade smarty-pants, has tiny eyes, and a good sense of humore. Not that a good sense of humor is a bad thing. He is fairly ugly. I DON'T KNOW HOW SHE LOVES M

QUINN....GONE (a true experience)

by Genie

My friend Quinn used to be a nobody. Now, she's gone. Gone To the dark, dreary popular side. I told her all my secrets. Even who i had a crush on. Luckily I know who she likes. M. I hope her popularity is Temporary. I miss her a lot. But... QUINN IS GONE.

THE OATH (an oath)

by Genie

I solomnely swear that I will never become a pop, always hate pops, Jessie Mclartny, The backstreet boys, and never leave the club.

I HATE KATE

Kate is such a Popularity freak. She is totally in love with AC, the 5th grade "HOTTIE" Her possie includes N, J, M, N, N, N, N! N totally loves Kate.'

RULES

1. You have to Hate Jesse Mcartney, Hilary duff, adn the Backstreet boys.

2. You can't be obnoxious

3. You can only have fun with a PoP if they aren't with someone from their gang.

4. You can't be a POP!

5. You can't be obsessed with shopping.

6. Don't treat a pop club member like a servant

7. You can't say like a lot.

Quinn....Gone

My ex-Friend Quinn glanced at me and starkied talking About how weird I am to her friends. It's sad that she left to the Pop side I wish an elephant would trample her.

The Gang

The worst gang on earth is the Pop gang. They do the most Damage. The rest aren't as Bad.

We've GOT to STOP the POPS! (somehow)

Late Nights

I just got home, and I've barely even started my homework. So much for knocking out 5.1 during rehearsal.

That was, I think, the longest rehearsal of my life. Havana is my new worst enemy. And the entire thing just felt futile, since Harry and I are really only the backup pianos anyways. I won't even have to stay for the second act tomorrow.

Speaking of Harry, for some reason, he looks really, really cute in the light of those little music-reader thingies we use. I think it's because it highlights bone structure while rendering his greasy hair virtually invisible.

At least I've been getting on well with the clarinets behind me, Eccentrius and whats-his-name. Unfortunately, I probably won't get to sit with them again. Instead, the electric is front, center, right near the drum set, and not really good for conversation. Damn.

Yesterday

All my troubles seemed so far away. Actually, I was so busy that they really did.

I had cytoskeleton in the morning. When I got to the station, the 8:00 train was just sitting there. According to Jonah, who apparently takes that train to some visual arts thing every week (who knew?), they'd been there for twenty-five minutes. I sat with him until Melissa showed up, and then I awkwardly extricated myself and moved back a row because turning around to speak was making my neck hurt.

Predictably, we found Mario later, in Starbucks.

Class was boring, and the room was freezing, so I spent the entire time shivering in my shoes. The boy on my right, who kept doing the I'm-going-to-pretend-to-look-at-the-clock-but-I'm-actually-looking-at-you trick (this may have been because I was reading over his shoulder), pulled out the Wall Street Journal. On Melissa's left, a different boy had a netbook and an actual book and was alternating between an English essay and facebook. Melissa read Anna Karenina. Our teacher described how excited she was about the class by saying that "everyone was over at my house drinking, and I was working on this!" Another quote of note: this is kind of a fucked up cell. Nobody in the class so much as flinched. Honestly, I think it's our duty as students to exaggerate any breaches of propriety by our educators.

In the evening, Genie came of age. Our family was sitting with a boy Genie's age and his parents. His father made me think of all my Jewish uncles- same hair, same beard, same glasses, same intellectualism and disdain for political correctness. He and my father spent much of the dinner debating various get-rich-quick schemes. I begin to understand the origins of the Jews-love-money thing, racist (theist?) as it is. Speaking of offensive, this should remind you not to stereotype.

Somehow, I think out movie was a tad better, and far less offensive. Although my uncles would probably prefer this one.

I'll quote my teacher again and advise you all to "sip the sweet nectar of the yew tree."

Lara Croft, Tomb Raider

is really not all that good of a movie. At least, the sequel was pretty bad. I was practically asleep by the end of it. Granted, this was partially because it was 9:30 and Kathrya is a relatively good pillow, but regardless, I am getting very sleepy.

A long, relatively boring day

Rufus is in awful condition, again. It makes me nauseous just to look at him, so I'm not eating enough because he's in the kitchen, and he's sick, which is sad, and the whole thing is pretty much just a steaming pile of awful.

I ought to write something meaningful here. I ought to be able to come up with something worth reading. However, all I can really manage is a whimper of emotional and physical pain.

Woe is me.

First in the League

My math team kicked butt. I actually ended up with the lowest score on the A team, but I still got a respectable 13/18, so it's no big deal.

On the bus ride there, I got a rundown on all of the major injuries that Tybalt has incurred in his sixteen years of life. He then continued with a few of Bryant's more dramatic ones, like almost chopping his finger off on a basketball hoop when he was five. It was apparently almost deep enough to show bone, which is, really, rather gross. It makes me squirm just thinking about it, and I'm sure I made a ridiculous looking face when he told me. This then segued into a discussion on the removal of wisdom teeth, at which point I turned around and crashed Melissa's conversation instead.

Once we got there, all of the upperclassmen (plus Argon) sat at one table. Mario, however, was not content with this, and he decided to go form his own table. Irving, Owen, and Melissa, our three captains, followed him over. The rest of us were debating crashing their table when the pizza was put there. At that point, we all went running over. After we got the pizza, Dino and Bryant sat down at their table with them. Ginny, Tybalt and I were standing nearby.

"Is there any point in moving if we all follow you?" I joked, and received a rather grumpy look in return.

I'm not sure who, precisely, they were avoiding, but, the three of us returned to our table, alone. Argon had joined the other underclassmen during the deliberation, so we had ended up at the smallest table.

Tybalt took it upon himself to make expansions. "Dino!" he called.

"What?" yelled Dino.

"Come here!"

"No!"

"Come here!"

"Fine." Dino walked over and sat next to me.

Tybalt turned back around. "Bryant!"

"What?"

"Come here!"

Bryant turned back around, I assumed to gather up his stuff and come over. However, he didn't budge.

For the next forty minutes or so, I sat around with Dino, Ginny, and, surreally, only one of the twins. Tybalt insulted the way that we eat pizza; Ginny picked it into tiny pieces because of her new braces, Dino ate the crust first (freak), and I folded mine in half. Apparently, you're supposed to leave a little bit of pizza to go along with the crust.

Election Day

Oh, what a beautiful morning, to be at home, sleeping in, relaxing the staff-development day away.

Well, kind of. I started my day by taking an entire SAT practice test, after all. Well, minus the essay. And I cut all of the sections short because I still had time to spare checking over my work, so it wasn't the full mind-numbing three hours. And I kind of skipped the essay section because Mom made me leave in the middle of it to go fold laundry, and I wasn't sure how much time I should get after that.

Even so, I was over seven hundred on all the sections (unless I got under a 5/12 on the writing, which seems unlikely). These tests must be easier than the actual thing, right? I mean, how the hell can I have a baseline test over 2200? It just doesn't make sense. I mean, I knew I tested well, but I hadn't realized that it was quite that well.

I suppose I'm just going to have to inflate my ego a bit more. Does anyone have a bicycle pump with a nozzle that would fit in my ear? I think my head needs to get a bit bigger.

The Breakfast Club

Today in health, Ms. Martie unsuccessfully attempted to get the class to do yoga. She ended up getting so fed up that she had as do coloring book pages of mandalas. It was surprisingly fun, but all of the quiet and time to think made Kathrya really grumpy, to the point where she actually snapped at Nia.

Last year in health, we watched The Breakfast Club. Here are some highlights from my write-up about it.

• Andrew got detention because he attacked another boy and taped his butt together.
• Socially, I am a follower. When I’m with a group of friends, I rarely come up with ideas of what we should do. I’ll trail along after people rather than forging my own path. Also, even when I do want to try something on my own, I feel that need to bring a friend along with me, so that I don’t feel like I am exposing myself in any way.
• I think that although you could never find exact replicas of the students, I could definitely find basic outlines. I know plenty of brains, myself included. I know a kid who devotes hours of time to playing football despite the fact that he says he doesn’t even know why. I know a girl, slightly messed up, like Allison, who hates her parents. I’ve heard about a boy whose parents are awful and who has been smoking pot since sixth grade, and in a town with this much money, princesses are not difficult to locate. However, all of these students have their own depths and thoughts, as well as their own personal reasons for being the way they are. Also, there are plenty of students at Paperclip who, while fitting archetypes, would not click directly into those of the movie.

In other news, Harry has reached an acceptable level of conversation. He seems to have become acclimated to my general awkwardness, extreme paranoia, and tendency to fall over. We even managed to bond over out inability to remember the names of freshmen. However, Harry will probably continue to avoid all eye contact in the hallway. Weird dude, I guess.

Late Nights

I haven't posted for the past two days because I didn't get home until after midnight, at which point I figured there really wasn't much point, since it was actually tomorrow.

As far as Friday goes, Harry and I had a lovely conversation about celeste cues during rehearsal. I think he's finally gotten the hang of standard speech. Now, I just have to work up enough guts to have a serious discussion about his excessive pedaling, which I really probably shouldn't, it's just that it doesn't sound good! The Fugue for Tin Horns is supposed to be bouncy! After all, it's a fugue, not a dirge.

Dirge was, by the way, an SAT word that I learned over the summer that was actually on the PSAT. It made me extremely happy.

Then, yesterday was Halloween. I went to Nyx's house and participated in delightful activities like "Soda Pong," which is, really, quite quaint. Then we went trick-or-treating, because, really, you can never be too old for that. At one point, Kathrya and Cammie were singing "He Had It Coming," or whatever it's called, from Caberet, as we approached a group of skankily dressed teens. Then, right when they finished, Chelsea and Selena attacked them with silly string and the entire group bolted.

Ginny, Lysander and I had been lagging, but we did our best to keep up. I went sprinting after Samurai Nyx, who was in front of me. The group we'd attacked made a good chase.

"Who are you? Wanna fight?" they called.

"Sure," I yelled over my shoulder. "We have one sword. What've you got."

They were silent for a moment before someone yelled, "Nothing. Nice pants, though!"

"Thanks!"

Wonder Page

for my research paper.

-facial expressions (across species/cultures)

-feminism as a label (why is it not accepted by people who believe in equality)

-sexualization of preteens

-origination of leg shaving

-nation of immigrants

-gerrymandering

-cloning

-stem cells

-etc.

-modeling industry and eating disorders

-originations of language

-common grammatical constructs

-development of the English language

-women in science

-affirmative action

-the internet and hate speech

-how to teach gifted children

Overheard

Today, during extended Health, I slipped out of class to go use the bathroom. There were two girls, probably sophomores, standing in front of the sinks and talking. There was a short, talkative one, and a larger, heavier one. I'll call them L and B, respectively.

L: Nice iphone.

B: Thanks.

L: My parents are getting me an itouch for my birthday.

B: Cool.

L: Know what's great about itouches?

B: No.

L:You can use the internet on them.

B: Yeah.

L: Emily has an itouch. She uses the internet on it.

B: Huh.

L: She looks at porn on it.

B: Wow.

L: Sometimes, I look at porn on it with her.

B: Oh.

L: It's kind of weird.

B: Yeah.

L: Don't tell anyone I said that.

B: That it's weird?

L: No, that I look at porn.

B: Sure.

L, speaking to me as I dried my hands: That includes you.

Tea: I don't know you anyways. Even if I told someone, they wouldn't know what I was talking about.

L: Good.

I, of course, promptly told both Red and Kathrya the entire story after I got back to health class. Kathrya and I agreed that even though we don't watch porn ourselves, it really doesn't seem like the sort of thing you want to do with a friend. I mean, seriously, that just seems like a recipe for either severe awkwardness or clandestine lesbian hookups.

On a completely unrelated note, we're writing essays on gender in English. Here are the theses of my group:

Margot: Girls wear clothes that are really uncomfortable.

Carter: Being a guy sucks because, like, we have to fit into expectations and stuff.

Brian: I have great female role models in my family, and we've now studied this so excessively I feel that my brain my spontaneously combust. It's all just empty talk that isn't going to do anything to stop sexism; that takes actions.

Tea: Femininity is an insurmountable obstacle preventing me from controlling my own life.

Rob: What Brian said.

Renna: Being a woman means not knowing what you actually want. Also, is it a problem if I write a synthesis essay using only personal anecdotes?

Tea Does Spanish

Señora is really a tad to prone to personal questions. For instance, my responses to the homework today:

If I lived on the island and didn't have a job, I would look for work as a babysitter because the children are pleasing to me.

If I could ask for the autograph of any person, I would ask for the autograph of the President Obama because he is pleasing to me.

If there was a limited amount of water, I would shower less times.

If I saw a person for the first time, I would not be capable of falling in love with that person.

If my parents made a toast on the day of my wedding, they would give me felicitations.

If I were Mario and I read a letter from Neruda (don't ask), I would hope that the letter is interesting.

If I had a son, I would give him the name Pedro.

If my spouse died before my son was born, I would become sad.

Avoidance

I'd been avoiding writing about SHP, mostly because, although Melissa, Irving, and Mario haven't objected to my joining their little group, I can tell that they really wouldn't mind if I wasn't there. Not that that's some huge issue- there are now seven or so people on the train, so one or two missing wouldn't make that much difference. It's more this general dislike of them that's developing after listening to them bad mouth virtually every other smart person. I'm exaggerating really, and they're probably people I wouldn't like either For instance, I am perfectly willing to join discussions about how ridiculous Boris is, but even so, Boris doesn't really bother me, he just kind of is. I think maybe I'm just a bit less sensitive to ingratiating behavior. I mean, I can barely remember why I dislike Gnatta at this point, and even Dino, cruel as he may be, is bearable.

Funny how much nicer Mario seemed last year, when it was just him. Right now, his comments about freshman girls (See that black Nissan? There's a bed in the back. You up for it?), let alone the one's about middle schoolers ("I was hoping I misheard you, but, no, Mario, that is not an option," in Archie's words) are mostly making me want to punch him. Granted, this may be a defense mechanism designed to get me over him faster, and perhaps indicates that some portion of my subconscious has finally come to terms with the futility of it all, but maybe he was just a dick and I didn't notice it before, or this may be a statement about how nasty people become when put in groups, or about how males, when confronted with societal expectations, feel the need to act like nasty bastards.

I'm not sure, to be honest.