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!"