A Wonderful Feeling

Today, my grandparents got back from their winter in Florida, so, of course, they had to come over for dinner. Mom made something yummy, and Grandma found a way to make a dessert that Mom wouldn't object to.

My grandparents, having been in Florida, naturally had not yet seen my prom ensemble. So I left when we were about halfway through washing up to zip myself in and slide (or, erm, wrestle) on my shoes. I love the way the dress feels when I put it on---just the right weight, just enough give in all the right places, the perfect shade of purple. And it's soft on me, and light, unlike the layers I've been piling on for lab every day.

I went into the kitchen and did my best imitation of a model's strut. I stood still and twirled while they preened, Papa being his typically skeevy self and Grandma being nothing but kind. It was nice to be preened over, nice to be the center of attention. When I was, at length, dismissed, I went upstairs rather than back to my room---the closest full-length mirror to my room (discounting my younger sister's, which is small enough that I can't see my entire person in it) is in the exercise room upstairs.

I clacked up the stairs, and I stood on the rubberized mats, and I looked at myself, and I was beautiful. That's how I looked to me, anyways. The right balance between legs and curves, the perfect dress, the perfect shoes, the somewhat glowy smile---perhaps I wasn't wearing glasses, so I couldn't see the flaws, but, in that mirror, I was as sexy as sexy could be. I looked at myself and I saw that ugly duckling daydream, of the great nerd---who is really only nerdy because of her glasses and involuntary participation in some variant of Quiz Bowl---showing up at prom and being suddenly beautiful, suddenly breathtaking, and leaving them all in awe. It's ridiculous, I know, but I felt like I could be Taylor Swift at the end of that cheesy, cheesy music video.

And I didn't care. Seriously. I was more excited about getting into Harvard than I was about this---which is saying something, since the only reason I was even glad I got in was that it meant that Bryant hadn't fared any better than me. I looked at myself, and I could see the dream existing, that little thought in the back of my nerdy mind that I was the belle of some imaginary ball, and I didn't care.

I liked the way I looked, sure. I hopefully will still like it once I get through the actual event (with any luck, it'll be enough to allow me to survive prolonged contact with Peter's mother). But it paled in comparison to my academic accomplishments. RSI, MIT, April 30th, Thiel, even last night's High Honors dinner, was worth more to me than the discovery that someone pretty lurked underneath my cargo shorts. What matters to me is exactly what I have.

It's a triumphant feeling, somehow. I'm not at all certain that I'm expressing it properly, though maybe it doesn't matter. I feel, to use something Meg Cabot liked to have Mia worry about in those Princess Diaries books (the books, mind, not the movies), self-actualized. I'm not sure Mia ever realized what it was---or maybe she did, and I wasn't old enough to appreciate it, so I've forgotten whatever life lesson she picked up---but it was something about knowing who one is and being excited about it. And being an adult, or mature. But I think it was understanding of oneself and satisfaction in that understanding. And right now, I feel like I get it.

It's a wonderful feeling.

Unattached Musings

This is, *ahem*, a serious post. Somewhat unusual for me, I suppose, but I've been feeling rather moody all day (whether this is due to the comment we're about to discuss or to the fact that I'm back at school after a phenomenally luxurious break is currently undetermined) so this post gets to bear the brunt of it.

What set it off was a conversation with a certain Nyx regarding a certain Warburton (I'm currently trying to ignore the fact that it's entirely possible that Warburton will read this and recognize the description of himself...I'm still adjusting to the fact that people legitimately read this thing). Warburton is one of the many individuals who have emailed me in search of RSI assistance (my last count is 26 total); his email was one of the more memorable, though, as it was about four pages of sleep-deprived babbling, followed by an offer to play scrabble. I spent a couple of days pointing and laughing at the email, the read it closely enough to work out what he was asking and try to respond to that. After we had worked out that he was not, as I originally suspected, completely batshit crazy, I gave him Nyx's email because she wanted a scrabble buddy. She reportedly stayed up way too late talking and playing scrabble with him, and they reportedly had a bit of a nerd cred contest.

Nyx defines nerd cred as indie cred for nerds. Indie cred does have a wikipedia entry, so I suppose this is legit. I define nerd cred as "that thing I am always trying to get more of. Bryant probably defines nerd cred as "that thing I have so much of that I don't bother trying anymore." Bryant has an amount of nerd cred comparable to the level of indie cred held by a band that only its members have heard of. Warburton's nerd cred, from what I can tell, is more along the lines of the band that doesn't exist yet--so, basically, dude is a completely, ridiculously smart. I'm exaggerating a bit, but for the sake of the analogy, it is at least somewhat funny.

As I was saying, Nyx and I had a conversation on the way to school (it should be noted just how terrible I am at sticking to a serious topic). She said Warburton has more nerd cred than me. I agreed, saying that he should get into RSI as a result, but one never knows. She agreed with me, and I said that I wonder sometimes how I got into RSI when there are all of these awesome people out there. She gave me the look that said that I was missing some important point.

"You're a girl," she said, as if that was all the reason that was needed.

I can't find it on the website (so maybe it's not true) but I recall being informed, multiple times, that for those selecting an RSI class, affirmative action is not used. This is how we end up with 1.5 minority students and only 1/3 girls (I just checked flipped through my summerbook at counted the American students--30%. I cannot imagine it would be that low if affirmative action was used). The website does say that students are selected "solely on the basis of their accomplishments and intellectual potential," but this was in reference to costs rather than gender/race/what have you, and I'm not the sort of person who will seriously quote out of context.

Regardless, it hurts. It hurt when Dino said the only reason I was selected for SHP at the end of freshman year, when he was not, is that I was a girl. Because obviously my test scores are lower, or the same--I couldn't possibly have a greater level of scientific knowledge beyond the biology that I will freely admit he is better at. It hurts that when I am sitting at the top of my AP physics class (well, I'm not certain my grade is actually the highest, but that's because I'm being lazy and not working as hard as I should), class that has 25 boys and 2 girls (though I grant you the vast majority of these guys are jocks who probably should not be in the class), and people continue to think that I got into college because I'm a girl, that I had this opportunity and that opportunity because I'm female and not because I am a very intelligent person who has spent years working my ass off.

But I'm a secure individual. I know that shouldn't bother me, because satisfaction rests within the self. I believe that I am both capable and deserving, so it shouldn't matter what others think. The only reason that it should bother me is the same reason that the previous sentence says "believe" instead of "know." I am not as certain as I think I am. Nyx's words troubled me because she is among my closest friends, and is one of those I've known the longest and know the best. It makes me wonder: if my best friend doesn't believe in me, who will? And if she doesn't it, is my belief in myself unwarranted?

This is the insecurity that gnaws at me. It continues to live partly because most of the things that people regularly dispute can be attributed to affirmative action, so I can't quite tell myself that they aren't true--but I can't totally blame an outside source. Much of it is a case of "imposter syndrome", the feeling that, no matter what I've achieved, I've cheated somehow, and one of these days, someone is going to notice that I don't deserve my current position. It's common, from what I can tell, among women in the sciences, and I'll discuss it later, but I went on a huge tangent below, and I think that a discussion of that idea deserves its own post.

The insecure feeling is similar to that which troubled me when Kathrya assumed I wouldn't land something because I'd be competing against international students, and they'd all be better--though in that case, it bothered me less, because I'm well aware that the best of the rest of the world is substantially better than me. I'm well aware that a lot of students in this country are better than me--but in what I've dedicated myself to, the number is damn small. There are probably tens of thousands with my grades, but if you throw in research and everything else--there are a number that do better, but from what I can tell, there are a few hundred of us that are about on par with each other (maybe closer to 1000 or so, I'm not entirely sure), maybe a bit more or less--though I'm getting stuck on this one, because while it's easy to make sweeping judgements, I don't know what everyone else is capable of, and I still don't know precisely where I stand.

However, any of these people would be qualified, overall, for RSI. These are the people that will do research at Caltech, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, MIT, Stanford (though a smaller number of them will end up at other schools). I don't really know what separates those who got into RSI from those who didn't--RSI is literally too small of a program to accept all of the qualified applicants, particularly if we take to heart MIT's constant statement that it, too, cannot accept all who are qualified--but regardless, there are more people sitting at the level of "totally awesome" than there are people at RSI. And at this point, I no longer remember what the purpose of this discussion was--something along the lines of being the best here, but not the best everywhere, which doesn't totally make sense. My 1000 estimate of people who are really into research--well, that's not a very conservative estimate. I would probably be better off with a few times that. And if "the best" includes that many people, what really qualifies me to say that I or anyone else is the best? If we make our definition broad, we pick up people who are good at many things. If we make it narrow, we discount the most intelligent.

I think I just made a point, but it has no relation to anything else I've talked about. I wanted to say something about affirmative action, I think. About how horrifically bitter Gretchen is because, from what she can tell, being an asian female puts her at a disadvantage in the college process. About how worried I feel that I've been receiving things I haven't deserved, even as I am fuming over the fact that others don't believe I deserve them. So where does it help?

It helps the statistics. It makes schools have the right numbers. And as I said before, with the huge numbers of the best, you could quite possible fill an MIT class with asian females and have the whole class be amazing. You could probably do the same with white Europeans. I don't know enough about the numbers to say if one could do the same with blacks, or with hispanics--I have a feeling that there aren't enough total people in research positions already. You could probably fill a class with people capable of succeeding, but it's quite likely that they wouldn't have had the same training. Just like I wouldn't have had the same training if I hadn't been accepted to the programs I was accepted to--because that's what enabled me to be one of these best people.

I feel like my reasoning is going in circles. The problem is that any equality in receiving an opportunity can go two ways--you can try to equalize people based on what they've had access to, and accept based off of that. Or you can actually take the people who have done the most, sum total, to be the most qualified. It's confusing, and I don't totally get it, and I'm tired, and I have a feeling that I'm going to offend people, and I'm a bit annoyed about the fact that I'm no longer anonymous, so I'm probably going to offend real people.

*insert curse word here*

The Myriad of Uses for a Free Period

I spent the entire period today sitting in the math/science learning center talking to Mario. Well, first I was talking to Mr. Booth, asking him to sign my National Honors Society application. So then we had a brief discussion on that application, and then we started talking math team.

Mario at least had the decency to act a bit surprised that I didn't make states. Then we got another motivational Beat Treeburg! speech from Mr. Booth about wanting to watch them squirm. Honestly, I think competitiveness should be more about being the best than watching the losers squirm, but Mr. Booth has a different opinion, I guess. Eventually, the Learning Center woman shushed the three of us and Mario and I returned to our work. Well, I checked my email, and he did something to the essay he was writing for Economics.

At some point, he turned around to talk to Bryant, who was taking a test on the other side of the room. "What would you say about this?" he asked.

Bryant ignored him, so Mario began commentating. "Oh, he's rubbing the ear, this must be a good problem."

This made Bryant look up. "It's decent. Not really that interesting." He went back to his test.

"Ooh, he's got the chin going now."

"Look at that pen twitch," I added.

"That," said Mario, "is a significant pen twitch."

"Is testing that much better with commentary?"

"I'd say so. Oh, look, he's moving back to the ear."

Bryant grinned but didn't look up.

"He's pretty skilled, to be able to test through that sort of distraction," I said.

"Yeah. Too bad he can't get a prom date."

"He has a prom date."

"No. Really?" He turned back around. "Bryant, you have a prom date?"

"Yeah."

"Who is it?"

"It's Nancy. Stop distracting him," I said.

"Nancy? Seriously? Bryant, you getting Tybalt's sloppy seconds? You double tap her or something?"

This Bryant ignored completely.

"What?" I said.

"Tybalt went with her to Counties, right?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure that's precisely the language I would use, though."

He shrugged, and we both went and worked a bit more.

A later conversation:

"Oh, was it you who told Ms. Seltzia- oh, what was it...."

"The nipple thing?"

"No, she told us that was you."

"Damn, she told you?"

"Yeah. Then she wanted to know where you were that period- period 8- and I actually knew, which was kind of weird."

"Weird?"

"Knowing that many of your classes."

"Well, I haven't got very many, so it's not like it's difficult."

"True."

"You know, I never bothered to learn Scarlett's second semester schedule."

"Are you still...?"

He shrugged. "Well, I mean, I've developed this new theory."

"What's that?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to say it. It's like, the less invested I get, the better the payout. Like, when you try too hard, it doesn't work."

"A bit depressing." Why does that sound like a hint?

"Nah, I mean, once you change your attitude a bit, what really ends up happening is that you're putting in less effort for greater returns."

I shrugged, and we both went back to our respective work, which, by now, had evolved to him crafting a flow chart on Inspiration and saying "bam" every time he changed the shape of an object, and me flipping through xkcd cartoons, looking for good visuals for English.

Math Class (the jokes on who?)

Today, I walked into calculus late.

This is not surprising, as I frequently walk into class late. On this particular occasion, I was late because I had to print out my note packets for class. I printed a spare for Nyx, ended up giving it to Jeremy, and then none of us needed them in the first place because the seniors were getting a class picture taken, so Mrs. James had elected to spend the entire class period communicating with the juniors.

As I was saying, I got to class, and, as I'm sitting down, I notice Mario and his freshly-cut hair (I told him last week that it looked good. I'm not certain that it does, but don't tell him I said so) and then sit in my normal seat, next to Gretchen.

"Guess who's he-re" said Nyx.

"I already noticed."

"Really?" asked Gretchen.

"Are you that surprised?"

I got a small laugh for that one.

I'm going to spare you a play-by-play of the entire class period and give a few highlights instead.

Mario then spent roughly fifteen minutes repeatedly taking the square roots of random numbers just to prove he could. He then tried to teach the rest of us how to do so, although I blatantly ignored his explanation and Boris claimed it was unnecessary (Boris was wrong).

At one point, Bryant was fiddling with something on his ipod. I think this is primarily because prolonged separation from technological devices is damaging to his health. Mrs. James started ribbing him a bit.

"Bryant how did you get on that site in school?"

"Huh?"

"He must have used a proxy. That's what they're called, proxies, websites that let you access other-" said Boris.

"I can show you what I was on if you want."

"I really don't think she needs to see that," advised Jeremy.

"Oh, I wouldn't wouldn't worry about it," said Mario. "He can't really get into it without the sound."

Gretchen and I nearly died. As Tybalt said later, "I laughed so hard that I went lightheaded."

"What time do you think the seniors are getting back?" asked Mrs. James.

"Never."

"Yeah, definitely never."

"But I was going to teach!"

"What's the next chapter on, polar or something, right?" said Sergio.

"Yes, polar," answered Bryant.

"I remember polar," said Mario.

"Which one is that?"

"The circular graphs, with the Rs and thetas."

"Oh, THOSE. The butt graphs," said Jeremy.

"They don't look like butts," said Mrs. James.

"Oh, yes they do." Jeremy went to the board and drew a graph that looked rather like this, but turned sideways. "There's the right cheek." He wrote RC on that side. "The left cheek," he said, writing LC, "and I think we all know what that one is."

"I still don't think it looks like a butt," said Mrs. James.

"No, you're drawing the wrong graph," said Mario, jumping up from the seat he'd stolen from the invisible person who sits there ordinarily and taking Jeremy's marker. He drew something rather like this, but turned sideways, and with the upward facing petal elongated and the other two squished up so that it looked like certain male anatomy.

"Okay, that does not look like that at all!" exclaimed Mrs. James. "It is a three petaled rose, not a, a, a-"

"Penis?" somebody filled in.

"It's a thee petaled rose! And the petals are all the same size, like this-" she redrew it"-not like that AT ALL!"

I must say, I adore her for being more upset about the mathematical wrong than the impropriety.

After School Unadventurous Adventures

I left Spanish this afternoon with Gretchen and Avon, and we were the nearly last, if not the very last, people to leave. Avon went down the first staircase to catch her bus, and Gretchen and I sped up, soon overtaking Dino and Sonny, who, while moving at a reasonable rate, couldn't match what Richard calls Gretchie's ridiculously fast pace. We then proceeded to talk about Dino, but, despite his relative proximity, he didn't notice.

Then Gretchen ended up wrapped in some conversation with Sonny, Dino forged on ahead, and I followed far enough behind him that it didn't seem worth the effort to chase after him just to awkwardly disengage upon reaching the bathroom.

By the time I extracted my wallet from my backpack and journeyed downstairs in search of a bake sale, the lobby seemed almost deserted, and there was, alas, no bake sale. I located Nyx by means of her floral shirt (which is very pretty, by the way) and announced myself to her, Kathrya, and Tybalt by means of a request for food.

I was very disappointed to discover that Tawny's baklava, which had previously been in the locker she shares with Nyx, had been removed. I pulled out some pretzels, which Kathrya and Tybalt agreed didn't taste like "real pretzels," and Nyx left for the dodgeball game, and the three of us stood somewhat oddly in the lobby for a few minutes. Brian came by asking for members of his team, and a bit later, in a matching tee, Rodney walked past.

Rodney can be identified by the fact that, in my English class today, Ms. Seltzia mentioned tessellations. I said that they were my absolute favorite, and Rodney was, sadly enough, the only person in class who got the joke.

Kathrya, Tybalt and I eventually started walking towards the cars, and we saw Bryant walking towards us, and then we all turned around and walked out to the parking lot.

The only bit of the conversation I can remember is that something about Dino came up, and Bryant said, somewhat out of nowhere, that Dino has a really annoying voice. I then mentioned something about being really confused when he started laughing at me in the language lab until I realized that the audio system was making chipmunk voice, and there was a fair amount of me trying to figure out where to walk, because I didn't like being way out on the edge, because it's hard to talk across four people, but it felt sort of weird to drop back, so I think there ended up being a fair amount of weaving about, but I suppose it worked.

When we reached the vehicles, Bryant requested his ride to unstickered parking, and Kathrya and I both volunteered.

"You want to ride in the truck?" I asked. "It's pretty fun."

"It is," said Kathrya, "extremely cool."

Bryant consented, so we waved goodbye to the lovebirds (yes, I am going to call them that). I stood on that random black bar on the underside of the truck that is probably not random at all and meant for standing on to throw stuff in the back, and threw my backpack and lunch into the bed of the truck. Bryant seemed apprehensive.

"Do I need to put mine back there?"

"Just hang onto it."

"What do you do when it rains?"

"I don't. I mean, I haven't had a passenger when it was raining. Actually, wait, no, I drove Ginny home. She just held everything. It's a bit crowded, though."

He nodded, and I put in the key and rolled down the windows. As soon as power reached the stereo, Lady Gaga and Beyonce's "Telephone" started blaring at a somewhat inhuman volume. I turned it down a bit and pulled out of the parking spot.

"You mess with it," I said.

"This is fine."

"I hate this song."

He did something to the music controls that I didn't see because I was driving. Britney started singing "and I'm caught in between, counting 1, 2, 3-"

"Oh, that's loads better," I said.

He laughed and did some different button pushing and the music changed again, to something instrumental, familiar, and yet somehow out of reach.

"Should I go right up here?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'll go straight then."

I turned out of Paperclip, still trying to figure out what the song was. "It's Lady Gaga, singing, well, something, I just...."

"Bad Romance."

"Ah, yes. I probably ought to have known that."

I wasn't looking at him, but I could practically feel his shrug.

From there, we somehow managed to discuss both what house the blueprint on the dashboard was for (he read off my address, so I assumed it was my house, but it turns out that he actually read the builder's address label, and it was for a different project) and, after I took a turn a little bit too quickly, whether I was allowed to have passengers in the car.

I said that as long as he could pretend to be my twelve-year-old sister, we'd be fine, but I wasn't sure he could pull it off, and, oh, wait, my sister is actually thirteen, I totally know how old my siblings are.

I think I got a laugh for that one.

And then there was something about parallel parking, and then we were at his car, parked as crookedly as predicted, and he was gone, and I was coming to an intersection I wasn't accustomed to, trying to determine the best possible route to a pastry.

SAT Scores

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

I dreamt that I went online to get them, then woke up before I could see them.

This was at 5:40.

I tried to go back to sleep.

I had a sneezing attack

I couldn't go back to sleep.

I got up, blew my nose, and tried to call the snow line.

The phone was disconnected because we are avoiding the superintendent's early morning calls.

I go on the computer to check snow days.

I type "snow de" into google before remembering the SAT, and then replace it with "college confidential" because I'm tired, followed by SAT scores.

The page loads. I click SAT scores.

Critical Reading: 800

Mathematics: 740

Writing: 770 (multiple choice 750, essay 10)

I stare at in shock, trying to decide if it's higher than a 2200, since the total isn't posted. I realize that the average is above a 750, so it must be.

I get out my TI-89 to add the thee numbers. 2310. I start squealing and waving my arms about.

I restrain myself from running upstairs and showing my parents and climb back into bed.

I get back out of bed and check facebook. No one is online. I resist the urge to brag. I hear a noise and go upstairs, thinking my parents might be up.

I return downstairs without waking them.

I discover that we have a two-hour snow delay.

I check on line again to look for my score report, with the questions I got wrong on it.

I start beating myself up for getting those one or two math problems wrong. After all, ninety-seventh percentile isn't really that good.

Decide that it's really, really stupid to get mad over that, and hope that at least one of the Vaseline brothers didn't get an CR 800, since I'm certain they both aced math.

Write blog post.

Attempt to go back to sleep.

Explicit Conversations (PENIS!)

Gretchen, you may prefer not to read these.

I was sitting at a table in the library with Tybalt, Kathrya, Boris, and Bryant during my free today. Eccentrius came over, sat on the table, and began talking to Martin. I was listening a little to Tybalt and Kathrya, and Bryant was doing homework. Eccentrius leaned over to Boris and said, "hey, do you know Martin?

"Yeah, why?" responded Boris.

"Have you seen him?"

"I said I know him."

"No. Have you seen him."

Boris simply looked at him.

"Martin" said Eccentrius, in something between a stage whisper and his normal voice,

"has a big penis."

"What?"

"His dick is huge! Seriously."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's true!"

"Right, like you would know."

"Oh. I know."

"What, do you look at him in the locker room or something?"

"You don't?"

"Of course not!"

"Why not?"

"It's weird!"

At that point, I started cracking up and leaned over into Kathrya, interrupting her conversation with Tybalt. She joined my hysterical laughter for a moment before asking what was so funny.

"I'll tell you later," I wheezed.

A bit later, after Eccentrius had, much to Boris's relief, left, Kathrya said something about Mario and his man-crush on Irving and added that Tybalt had some support for that, leading him to launch into a story from his weekend:

So, on Saturday, we were all hanging out working on the challenge stuff, and Mario was on facebook, and, right before he x-ed out, Irving came over and wrote in his status is considering cock? but Mario didn't notice and closed the window anyways. Then the rest of us were cracking up, and he was like "What? What? What's funny?" and someone told him to check his facebook. He opened it up and, completely straight-faced, he read the message. He didn't react at all- he just clicked on it and replaced it with is sucking Irvings fat brown dick and closed the window. We were staring at him and said "Mario, you know people can see that, right?" and he was like, eh, whatever, they won't think it's me. Then, about ten minutes later, Irving gets a text from Melissa telling him he ought to look at Mario's status.

End of story.

Why I Have Not Posted

I can't decide what to write.

First, I figured I'd recount the math meet. But, other than, we did math and I was awesome and beat both Irving and Bryant, there wasn't much that was particularly exceptional. My prize was a little beat-up quiz game, and is vastly superior to Argon's Chartwell's poster.

I debated sharing the prostitution joke. Namely, that, upon my telling Owen that Dino was paying me twice what I asked for for his poster, Irving's immediate response was "you must have been really good, then." Yes, I have now been a victim of a prostitution joke related to Dino. As I said to Owen and Irving, I'd really have preferred that I didn't here that.

Although, the advice to pour water on Dino's head in order to short-circuit him was sound.

Speaking of which, I don't believe he's paid me back yet. A water bottle may be in order, although I doubt Señora would approve.

Dino's response, when I told him this as we walked up the stairs, was "Do I really sound that much like a robot?"

"Well, kind of, a little bit."

"Seriously?"

"Well, yeah, you kind of do."

"Wow. I was expecting you to say 'oh, no, Dino, not at all.'"

"This from the guy who is constantly cruel in the name of honesty, Mr. I-tell-it-like-it-is."

"I am not cruel."

"You kind of are."

"Am I really?"

I looked at him.

"Fine. Name one time I've been really, truly mean."

"You called Ali stupid."

"She's was being annoying!"

"She was extremely torn up about it. She's very sensitive."

"Ali? Sensitive?" He was utterly incredulous.

"Yes, sensitive. She was almost in tears later. She's insecure about her intelligence."

"I don't really think she's stupid."

"I know that, but she doesn't."

He shook his head. We walked in silence for a moment.

"Awful couple," he said.

"Sorry, what?"

"Awkward couple."

"Who?"

"Mercle and Charlene."

"Huh?"

"They just walked by."

"I didn't notice."

"They're a weird couple."

"Agreed. I can't imagine wanting to date Mercle."

"I can't believe anyone would date Charlene."

"Maybe that's why they're together. Neither of them can get anybody else."

"Maybe."

The irony of the two of us, both perpetually single because we've never bothered to try, critiquing people who's only difference is that they actually did, remained unsaid. After all, when one is trying to make oneself feel better about one's lonely state, it is advisable to point out the many flaws of relationships.

This is similar to both Owen's and Dino's prom related attitudes. They both have given the absolute same description I did for why they didn't want to go to counties- I don't like music, it's a lot of drunk people, I can't dance, etc. I know, however, that my issues were actually rooted in "who the hell will I go with" and general insecurity about the same topic, and I have a feeling that Dino and Owen think the same thing.

Caroline actually said to me later that Owen ought to just ask someone, even her, his cousin, because he's nice enough that it's unlikely someone would turn him down. I have a feeling that Dino's luck would not be as good, although one never knows.

Dino's other reason: since he can't drive, the transportation would be awkward, and he doesn't want to humiliate himself by letting his date drive.

I think that he was just making up stuff by that point, but to each his/her own.

The other reason I have not posted is that I haven't ridden a horse at a speed faster than a walk in ages.

The Search For the Perfect Pair

Today, in Science Research, I was sitting at a computer between Mario and Julie. Julie was doing science fair stuff. I didn't want to work, so I looked over at Mario's computer. On it was written the following:

Mario: The Boss

Owen: Mr. Reliable

Irving: The Answer

Bryant and Tybalt Vaseline: The Dynamic Duo

I snorted and he looked over at me.

"Sorry for staring over your shoulder, but, The Boss? Really?"

"It's for Mrs. Macdonald. I'm trying to persuade her to keep our team intact for Moody's."

I looked over the list critically. "Do you think Tybalt and Bryant ever get sick of being referred to as one unit?"

He shrugged. "I like the names, though."

"I don't know, 'The Boss' is a bit egoistic."

"Yeah, but look at Irving. The Answer isn't really modest."

"But you're the one writing it."

"I'll send it from a fake email address so she won't know who wrote it."

"I have a feeling she'll be able to guess."

"I wonder if I can use one I already have. I used to have one for Tom Smith, and I still get phone calls about it."

I gave him a confused look.

"Well, you know those free things on the internet? I made a separate email address for them, and I always said my name was Tom Smith."

"You gave them your phone number?" I was shocked.

Wallace, who was on Mario's other side, made a garbled noise that sounded vaguely like a laugh.

"I wanted the free stuff!"

"You're not supposed to give out your phone number!"

"It's not like they knew my name. Besides, I moved across town later, and now it doesn't matter."

I shook my head and returned to reading an article for anthropology. A few minutes later he turned back to me.

"You know, I think you might be right. Dynamic Duo is a bit unfair to Bryant and Tybalt, cause they both really are smart in their own right. I think I'll do Batman and Robin instead."

This after he asked Garrett whether shape-memory polymers could be used to make a bat-cape.

"Which is Batman and which is Robin?"

He rewrote the statement to say

Bryant and Tybalt Vaseline: Batman and Robin (In no particular order)

"It still makes it seem like only one of them is useful. And people are going to assume that Tybalt is Robin, which is kind of unfair."

"True. Anyone know any more even superhero teams?"

"Superman and Superwoman," suggested Wallace.

I started cracking up. Mario searched 'dynamic duos' in google and clicked the wikipedia page. I searched superhero teams and got a list on wikipedia.

"You know, I think Mrs. Macdonald is more likely to have heard of these," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"That page is about the Korean pop group Dynamic Duo."

"Oh. Oops." He went to the same page I was on. "X-men?"

"Mystique is a girl. And there's more than two."

"Fantastic four! I wish there were only four of us, that would have been perfect."

"What about academic duos?"

"Scientists work alone."

"Watson and Crick?"

"These must be real DNA geeks, if you're calling them Watson and Crick," interjected Wallace.

"Who, Tybalt and Bryant? I guess so. They aren't really bio people, though," I said.

"Not Watson and Crick. Newton and [weird German name]? Everyone thinks they worked together, but they actually didn't."

Wallace and I looked confused.

"Maybe not. Hey, Dr. Verona, do you know of any famous pairs? Superheroes, or scientists, or something?"

"Batman and Robin."

"Where they're of equal standing," said Mario.

"No power imbalance," I added.

"What about the Alpher-Bethe-Gamow paper?"

"Alpha-beta-gamma?" I laughed.

"Look it up!" said Dr. V.

Mario searched it, and this wikipedia page showed up.

Dr. V spent about five minutes explaining the various reasons why this paper was cool. I laughed a lot, and Mario may have smiled a bit, but not a heck of a lot. When Dr. Verona left, Mario returned to google and typed something about famous pairs. He got a page with a few more on it. The fourth one down: Kirk and Spock.

I started laughing. "That's perfect! Bryant even looks like Spock."

"I can't believe it took us this long to think of that. Dr. Verona, why didn't you suggest Kirk and Spock."

"They aren't super heroes, they aren't really even a duo."

"Doesn't matter," said Mario. "It's perfect."

Countdowns

Number of...

...midterms left: 2

...English essays to write during the midterm: 2

...rice crispy treats eaten during midterms week: 2

...cookies: 3

...blueberries: 726

...pills taken: 23

...minutes remaining with Mrs. Hirten: 35

...free periods thus far: 0

...free period in the rest of the year: 7

...twins in that free period: 2

...other friends discovered in free period: 0

...pages of science research paper: 12

...pages of research paper left to rewrite: 10

...colleges visited: 3

...visited colleges in Forbe's top 15: 2

...top 127:3

...times I have looked up RSI on college confidential: 612

...times I have worked on my Rockefeller application: 0

...practice SAT tests taken: 2

...days until SAT: 4

...people I owe clothing to: 1

...friends in the hospital: 1

...minutes on phone with Avon: 102

...percentage of that time in which Avon talked: 11

Math Geeks and Prom

Because, of course, we need to be thinking about prom dates already. Although I was having perfectly reasonable conversation with Ginny, Tybalt, and Gretchen, the group in the back had other ideas. Owen couldn't figure out who to ask to senior prom, so Mario suggested that he ask a junior or sophomore- if you ask down, the girl is so excited to even be going that she'll enjoy it more. Because that worked so well for Mario, who barely talked to his senior prom date (he is, by the way, actually going to Counties with Rachel. This still pisses me off. A lot. I wish I could tag along a cackle gleefully over their awkwardness, because, as it is, I'll just be stuck trying to sleep and being accosted by horrible images of what they could be getting up to. HCl, HCl, HCl). They consensus was that Irving put out an advertisement on the morning show and request applications, two recommendations needed. This started because of some brief mention that Dino was in need of a fembot, as Irving and Owen had only just noticed that Dino talks like a robot, and they seem to find this the funniest thing in the whole world.

They were laughing as much as Kathrya did this morning when she said I wanted to see Mario without any pants on and I started throwing shirts at her, and she decided that meant I was proposing marriage and crumpled to the floor, dissolved into hysterics.

I told this to Gretchen, and her response was to look at me, confused. "You want to see him without PANTS on?!" "That's not the point," I responded.

Anyways, after the math meet, I was walking towards my truck with Melissa, Tybalt and Bryant.

"So, Tea," Melissa said. "If, hypothetically, Dino asked you to prom..."

"Hmm?"

"If, hypothetically, and I'm not saying he will, it's just that I'm supposed to find him a date and I think I need to start asking early, Dino asked you to prom, would you say yes?"

"Well....." I trailed off.

Tybalt and Bryant laughed.

"I mean, I don't have any big vendetta against him or anything, and I can't see any reason to turn him down, so I'd probably end up saying yes, but...don't make me your first choice, okay?"

"Sure. It's just, you're nice, so I thought you'd say yes."

"I need to get meaner."

"It's alright, I'll start looking for sophomores. I figure if I find someone now, I can introduce them and give them time to get to know each other before hand."

"I don't want to be mean to him, it's just that, well, if we went together, we'd just end up insulting each other the whole time."

"Awwww. It'd be like a love-hate relationship!"

I snorted incredulously. "Bye!" I called and then split off to go to my truck.

I think Tybalt or Bryant said "bye" back. Melissa definitely didn't.

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.

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.

Comprehensive Learning

Sleep is a truly glorious thing. My eight hours a night are truly wonderful, and, honestly, I need every second of those eight hours. It always shocks me to hear about people getting less- Tybalt, for instance who averages "six, six and a half" hours per night.

Crazy person.

I had math team today, and there was a surprisingly low turnout. When I got there, Tybalt, Bryant, and Dino were the only ones in attendance. They were discussing the physics test, but Bryant hadn't taken it yet, so the other two were using code words to discuss it in front of him.

"Heavy tangerine, right Dino?"

"What?" asked Dino.

Tybalt looked at me expectantly.

"Nope, I still have no clue what you're talking about," I said.

"The one with the big things that go up and down and around."

"Oh!" said Dino, "the humpy one!"

"What?"

"The humpy one! It was the second one, I think. Or maybe the third..."

"Yeah, you got a heavy tangerine, yes?"

"What the hell is a tangerine?"

"I like tangerines."

"The ticket, it's a heavy tangerine, Dino, just think about it. TANgerine."

"What?"

Bryant got fed up. "He's saying that the acceleration is gravity times the tangent!"

"You weren't supposed to understand!"

Dino opened his mouth, then paused a moment before speaking. "Hey, if you take one genius twin, and derive him with respect to the other genius twin, which one of them are you respecting?"

"I don't get it," I said.

"Neither of them," said Bryant, understanding better than the intended target yet again.

Gchat is the true reflection of life.

Tea: WAIT, ARE YOu online, please be online

Vicky: yes

Tea: invisible

Vicky: how did you know?

Tea: oh good! I needed someone to talk to and I'd been looking at the gchat page for A WHILE, annoyed that no one was online

Vicky: ok...is it juice gossip or serious? And juicy gossip, not juice

Tea: uhh, gossip mostly, and it's Mario related

Vicky: GREAT!!

Tea: although not great for me

Vicky: YES!!! the best kind!

Tea: but I am determined not to care. He's OBSESSED with Scarlett. Do you know who that is?

Vicky: no, who's she?

Tea: some senior. he's worked out her schedule by figuring out what classes she's taken and listening to her talk about teacher s to other people cause she sits NEAR him in economics

Vicky: wow...that's definitely obsessed

Tea: and he wrote it down in this little notebook and CARRIES IT AROUND

Later, still with Vicky

Tea: The whole time that Mario was talking about Scarlett, Tybalt's shirt had ridden over sideways, so I could see this section of his shoulder, and I was like "see, you're fine, Tybalt, is pretty, you don't care, just laugh."

Vicky: Idk...I guess Bryant is smarter though right, so maybe Tybalt got the handsome gene and Bryant got the extra brain gene

Tea: Bryant is smarter, but their gpas are identical except for freshman year latin. They were so cute talking about who's going to be valedictorian. Bryant wants them to tie, even though he's ahead right now.

Vicky: oh...wait...dinner time...I have to go...bye!!!

Tea: and he doesn't want to have to make a speech and NOOO. I'm not done!

So, of course, I had to find someone else to talk to, yielding this conversations with Gretchen and Nyx that I will post later. For now, though, content yourselves with the wonders of Kathrya:

Kathrya: YAY FOR BEING SOCIALLY RETARDED

Tea: he was so proud of himself today

Kathrya: hahah what for?

Tea: he's like "I'm so glad the test got pushed up to friday because I helped her with econ!"

Kathrya: wow.

Tea: yeah, I mean, really, Mario. you don't admit to this stuff in front of a large group!

Kathrya: yea, you say it to your close friends, duuuuuuh

Tea: Tybalt clearly doesn't respect you/know you well enough to keep it to himself, I DEFINITELY don't, (I've already told 4 people, and it's been, what, three hours?)

crazy mario....

okay, I'm going to bed, nightnight

Kathrya: oh well the whole school will know soon lol

Math Meet

Kathrya is going to murder me. Ginny and I told Tybalt about our evaluative walk analysis. This coupled with our interrogation of him about what guys say when they want to get their haircut leads me to believe that Tybalt now believes that I'm insane. (As a side note, Kathrya totally deserves this for getting my hopes up about Tybalts GPA, which is a 4.46, a full tenth higher than mine, and therefore very, very far away.)

Also, Jeff's little brother, hereafter referred to as Micro, who calls his brother Jeff a communist, is actually a neocon jerk. He said that I am overly talkative! Me! Overly talkative! That bastard! My response to this was to storm over to the other table, which I hadn't been sitting at because Ginny and I felt like awkward social outcasts, and tell Melissa that Micro was being mean. I then got my calculus homework and brought it over with me, and Bryant pretty much helped me with every single problem. He really is wonderful, unlike Micro, who is a tiny little meanie.

I'll give a bit more info on the meet tomorrow.

Fun

In health class, Red poked me while the teacher was talking and whispered, "Mario was just staring over here, so I waved at him, and he looked away," although she actually referred to him by both first and last name.

He was probably trying to figure out why I kept looking over where he was (I was watching the clock! Honest! The second hand was broken, so it was doing this really entertaining thing where it skidded forward only every four seconds!), or had become completely enthralled by Red's red hair or the weird poster with the male olympians on it (unlikely), but really, Mario, you were creepishly staring at Julie just last week! You need to be more careful not to zone out while looking at people.

Speaking of Mario, as I've said before, Kathrya believes that he walks awkwardly. In fact, she believes that she can distinguish a nerdy guy solely by his walk. I told this to Ginny today while Bryant and Tybalt were about twenty yards in front of us. I finished up with, "I mean, just look at the twins!" right when they rounded the corner ahead.

"You want to run after them and observe?"

"Yes!" I said, and we rent running up to the corner before continuing to walk, this time a bit closer behind them. For anyone who's interested, they were stepping in opposite synchrony, going inside-outside-inside-outside, and they don't walk in precisely the same manner.

During science research today, I did the lab that's supposed to teach us how to use the micropipettes. Lumiere and Elle talked about this weekend's drunken antics. Lumiere seems to have some real memory issues. He had no recollection of telling Elle that he'd devirginized seven girls (he claims that he's slept with seven, but only three were virgins (only three. ha.)), and had no clue why he'd woken up on Sunday morning with a bed full of sand (tag on the beach). Elle professes to be very dedicated to TAG, which is Teens Against Something-to-do-with-drugs-and-alcohol-that-starts-with-G. Julie mildly insulted Lumiere while he was going on about his moral code, and she used a large-ish word I've forgotten (purport? profess?) but that he didn't know the meaning of. This from a boy who is going to Yale next year. I, for one, am appalled.

Amazing

is that a group of people in my science class (Ali, Gnatta, Christoph, Dino, Tybalt, and Sergio) were able to have a long discussion about shoe sizes (Dino, for any interested parties, had the largest) without devolving in the slightest bit to making size jokes. There weren't even any snickers and pointed glances. I'm somewhat shocked. I thought that other high schoolers spent as much time in the gutter as I do!

On a more serious note, we had a discussion about gender distribution during math today. For some reason, only one third of the B.C. calc classes are female. Why did this happen? Oh, fellow females, why have you abandoned me so? I think the whole "guys are better at math" thing is utterly bogus. Do guys really just care that much less about grades? Maybe they don't feel that constant need to prove themselves, to show the teacher and fellow students that they really deserve to be in the tough classes. Are girls just scared out of the big, bad, b.c.? It seems difficult to believe. And when, precisely, are we getting funneled into lower levels. It doesn't seem to be early on, so why such a skew at higher levels? I don't get it! Does it have to do with us just assuming that guys are smarter? I mean, look at Gretchie's and my valedictorian list. Sure, we managed eight guys on the last one, but that took a fair amount of manipulating on out part. The first people we thought of on our extended list were all male, and we had to talk ourselves into adding girls to the top spots on the final. And as far as reputations go, the smart people, when others are asked to name them, are Bryant, Tybalt, Livny, and Mario. Never mind that Julie took B.C. last year as well, or that I keep up with Tybalt just fine much of the time, or that Livny has an ego far larger than anything else of his (that was a size joke), or that Mario really isn't much of writer. It's always the guys who get listed! It's just so utterly infuriating!

End rant.

Honors List

Today, Gretchen came over, and we decided to combine our interests in gossip and academics to produce: The High Honors Predictions (Wood Knocking Enabled). This is also an opportunity for me to come up with lots of fun nicknames.

First, the top fifteen, also known as: Our Wonderful List, by Us.

1. Bryant, the somewhat smarter twin.

2. Tybalt, the other really smart twin.

3. Yuma, the Asian boy who likes to say "um." He is here because he is smart, and we like him.

4. Clara, who played Clara in the nutcracker and did very, very well on the math midterm and plays violin. We needed a girl on this list.

5. Julie. Because she is Julie.

6. Mario, because we like him more than

7. Livny. How we wish that he was stupider.

8. Brian. His first name is Avon's last name.

9. Jeff. Tierra is obsessed with him. However, he has taken a lot of journalism, which might pull down his GPA, but whatever.

10 and 11: Tea and Gretchen. Because we are awesome.

12. Avon or Natalie. They have the same first name, and we aren't really sure.

13. Sonny. The taller of the two workshop boys from Avon's elementary school.

14. Ariadne. Her dad gave a speech to our math class.

15. Nyx, because we love her. She's pretty good at school, too.

It'll be interesting to see if any of this rings true after another year and a half.

Also, I've been taking art classes at the art center in a nearby town. My teacher has a porno-stache, and it creeps me out a lot.

This little piggie...

Mom thinks that Shelby has swine flu, so she's taking her to the doctor's for a test. Also, if it is swine flu, Shelby can't come on vacation, because she'd be contagious for seven days after the first onset of symptoms. If it isn't flu, then she can't come unless her fever goes away. Regardless, Mom and I aren't leaving until Wednesday at the earliest.

In other news, I'm pretty much done with my room. The most amazing part is that you can see the floor.

Also, a couple nights ago, I babysat one of my neighbors. We watched the third Harry Potter movie and argued about whether Ron and Hermione were meant to be together (he couldn't understand why they fought so much if they actually liked each other). Then, around 11, I got home and went on my computer. Kathrya and I started facebook chatting about the compare people application. Basically, we both pulled it up at the same time and laughed at all of the ridiculous comparisons.

For instance, would Kathrya rather sleep with her brother or some weird ugly freshman? Is Will hotter than Bryant? Is Bryant or Josh more cuddly? Kathrya repeatedly got ones about Bryant.

On mine, I got rid of my 'interested in' back when my mom got a facebook, so that she couldn't tease me about it. So, mine were fairly gender neutral, but mostly guys. For instance, is Will sexier than Isabelle? (I said that he wasn't) Would I rather marry my camp-friend's ex-boyfriend or my father? (I skipped that one) Then, I started getting Mario. Repeatedly. Who is hotter, Mario or Otis? Is Mario or Chris a 'better catch.'? I started panicking into the fb chat.

"KATHRYYYYYYAAAA!!!!! WHY DOES IT KEEP TALKING TO ME ABOUT MARIO?????"

"I DON'T KNOW! WHY DOES IT KEEP TRYING TO GET ME TO SAY THAT BRYANT IS HOT??"

"This is awful. I blush at the computer screen every time his name comes up."

"ha."

Needless to say, it was somewhat ridonkulous.

other interesting questions: If Joanie (the talkative) and Dan (I can't identify the back of his head) got into a fight, who would win?

Also, Vicky would probably appreciate it if everyone would post their schedules, because she doesn't have a facebook, so can't obsessively check everything like I do.