Child's Concept of Heaven and Hell

I left the shades open at night so I could see the stars. I would lie on my bed, pretending to sleep, with my head pushed all the way into the corner so that I could see up, over, all the way to the stars. I watched them, and I felt them move, and I felt them breath. The stars were my people, and if I just tried hard enough I could walk among them.

I sat in the dark, my knees curled up against my chest, watching the sky. The planets together made stars, the stars together made galaxies, the galaxies together made the universe. Could there, then, be other universes, that spun with our own and sent out their own tendrils of existence? Could a universe, not a planet, not an individual, but an seemingly infinite spread of stars, be the plaything of a deity? If there could be infinite stars, why not infinite universes, spawned from the droplets of a universe cloud that sent out tiny, heavy particle that begat another big bang.

When I died, I would have my own universe. We all would have our own universe, our own world, where all understanding is known and the entirety can play out before our eyes. Where we can see the souls of the stars as easily as the people, feel the voice in the vacuum as well as in sound. When a tree falls in the woods of our carefully crafted universe, we can hear it.

The universe I live in, as I watched over my world, looked rather a lot like my grandmother's apartment in Florida. I suppose that is what happens, when one's heaven is the stuff of dreams.

There were nights when I could do little but ponder the future. It would be nice to be omniscient, but even in death, would it be possible? And how could I reconcile the simultaneous truth of all religions with their numerous contradictions? I would read by day, texts of what could be, words that I didn't know piled into sentences with structures beyond my grasp. I wanted a pattern, a similarity, a simple this is what is and was and will be that seemed constantly inescapable. A heaven of angels seemed no more realistic than my universe of gods, waiting for the final day of reckoning seemed rather less likely than the lot of us walking, gray and soulless, through a refugee's world before flying towards the sun and dissolving to Dust.

I thought too much for a child. I thought so much that I knew that I thought too much, and elected to leave the issue of where we went up to the individual.

I would go to a heaven of my own, and use my time to visit the heaven of all I knew. My grandmother could sit with Jesus in the clouds, Aunt Joan could settle herself fully into the memory of each individual and meddle, my dog could trail me loyally while plucking milkbones from midair, we could have houses for the homeless, and the entire world would get what they needed, what they expected.

But the expectations began to push against each other. What heaven do you give the criminal, what haven is allowed to a wicked man? Does the remarried widower live with two wives? I suppose that, with infinite days, each wife has infinite time, but there are just as many restless nights, alone. And then, if we are given what we expect, is the atheist truly allowed to desist?

I did not know. I did not like that I did not know. I eventually discovered, however, that I would be much better off, overall, if I was willing to wait.

I am Acutely Exhausted

So I'm doing the lazy thing and making you read my old schoolwork.

Mindbender #15

The Pleasure of learning and knowing, though not the keenest, is yet the least perishable of all pleasures. A. E. Hausman

Knowledge, while not the most desired pleasure, is the one that lasts the longest, staying with one until the ravages of Alzheimer's and age have fully destroyed it. Love, on the other hand, is as perishable as the one loved, who is as turn as perishable as the delicious food they once ate.

I mean, seriously, romantic relationships are rarely enduring. Spouses can die, and relationships can crumble, and we all end up mopey and depressing, eating Ben and Jerry's and watching horrible romantic comedies. For instance, A Time Traveler's wife is about a woman who, after the death of her husband, spends most of her life waiting for him. How utterly depressing.

Food is even quicker to rot. We all crave a little something yummy, but we don't have chocolate cornucopias. Be it the Halloween candy that eventually runs out or the fresh kiwis that go bad before they're eaten, food just doesn't last forever, and cake never sticks around as long as we expect it to. Here is a poem I found online about how quickly chocolate cakes is gone. It wasn't a very good poem, so I won't bother to link to it. There is a finite amount of cake, unlike good poems, of which there is surely an infinite quantity.

Knowledge, however, sticks. I remember a speech made by the minister of my church at Walden pond. He remembered the works of Thoreau. Thoreau remembered the world and nature when he wrote Walden. The knowledge gained stuck with the minister and it stuck with me. Food is eaten and love dies, but knowledge endures.

Book Lists

Here is Crazy's list of books that would, ideally, be taught in a high school. Here are those which I have read, or will read:

-The Odyssey, unfortunately

-selections from The Canterbury Tales are next year

-so is The Scarlet Letter

-selections from Emerson, but at church, not school.

-selections from Thoreau, although I read Walden during the summer.

-Little Woman, but I read that, for myself, in elementary school

-Jane Eyre, a summer book, again.

-A Tale of Two Cities, in sophomore English

-Romeo and Juliet, Othello, and A Midsummer Night's Dream

-The Sun Also Rises, which I'm midway through. Also, Crazy wrote the following: "I like it better than A Farewell to Arms and HUGELY better than that stupid story where he chases around the fish." I agree with her whole-heartedly.

-The Great Gatsby, which I read this fall

-a short story by Woolf

I'm rather appalled that she didn't include Catcher in the Rye, which really ought to be on any list, in my opinion.

I also found a list here of thirty books everyone should read before their 30th birthday:

1. Sidartha- from what I've heard, I'll pass, although it supposedly helps on SATs.
2. 1984- I should probably read that one eventually.
3. To Kill A Mockingbird- I read it in eighth grade, and, to be honest, I think it's a bit overrated.
4. A Clockwork Orange- would have been better if Otis hadn't spoilt it.
5. For Whom the Bell Tolls- it's Hemingway, and not Old Man and Sea, so maybe I'd like it
6. War and Peace- sounds long and painful
7. The Rights of Man- is written by Paine. More or less pain than War and Peace?
8. The Social Contract- Rousseau. This is not a novel. I will not read it.
9. One Hundred Years of Solitude- anything that "does not have a plot in the traditional sense" does not seem as if it will be a great deal of fun.
10. The Origin of Species- well, that might actually be fun.
11. The Wisdom of the Desert- sounds like something my mom would read before forcing a new supplement on me.
12. The Tipping Point- Malcolm Gladwell. Can I leave it at Outliers?
13. The Wind in the Willows- never heard of it. Sounds nice, though
14. The Art of War- military strategy. blech.
15. The Lord of the Rings- I've read some. Vastly overrated, again.
16. David Copperfield- I started it and liked it, but we read it in school next year, so I didn't want to do the whold thing.
17. Four Quartets- poetry? I'll pass.
18. Catch-22- this I'd rather like to read.
19. The Great Gatsby- been there, done that.
20. The Catcher in the Rye- see #19
21. Crime and Punishment- sounds foreign and confusing. What fun!
22. The Prince- Machiavell. Will probably destroy my optimistic worldview
23. Walden- I read it. Loved it. Highly recommend it.
24. The Republic- Plato. Not a novel. "Gripping and enduring" makes it sound like bad sex.
25. Lolita- this I'd like to read.
26. Getting Things Done- self help. I'd really rather not.
27. How to Win Friends and Influence People- more self help. And it sounds snooty.
28. Lord of the Flies- I've always wanted to read that one.
29. The Grapes of Wrath- I'm sorry, but I really just don't like Steinbeck.
30. The Master and Margarita- Emily read this, our teacher hadn't heard of it, but it's apparently quite good.

Yay books! Yay reading! Now, back to Hemingway.

Emunction

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

Cherub #1: You just picked your nose!

Cherub #2: Did not.

Cherub #1: Did too.

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

Cherub #1: You so picked it.

Cherub #2: I did.

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

Cherub #3: Ewwwwww. That's gross.

Cherub #1: Is not.

Cherub #2: Yeah, it's not.

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

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

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.

Italian Festival

Last night I went to the Italian Festival with (prepare for a slew of new nicknames) Nyx (who you know), Benny, Ryan, Johannes (like Gutenberg, who invented the printing press to make books *hint hint*), Cormac (you know that's what they should have called the other brother), Lysander, and Nick. We saw Cormac's brother, Cameron, as well. Anyways, I have a whole bunch of stories to share, so I will spread them over the coming days, just like I did with the SHP.

We spent a lot of time just standing around. The laws of inertia and magnetism appear to apply very strongly to them. The will remain at rest unless an outside force makes them move, and they have a mild magnetic attraction to Nyx, since she is the only person capable of making them move. They also had a tendency to split off into groups, with Lysander and Benny vanishing temporarily, which bugged Nyx to no end. And spending any protracted amount of time with Lysander really introduces me to the concept of wing-woman. But he's really not that bad, so I suppose I'll manage.

At one point last night, I was standing with Nyx and Cormac when I saw a familiar face approaching. I tried to remember who it was. A gym teacher, maybe? No, then Nyx would recognize him. As soon as Cormac gave a very friendly hello!, I realized it was our youth group advisor from last year.

"It took me like ten seconds to recognize you," I said.

"Really?" He started counting on his fingers.

Then, Cameron popped up behind him. "Hi!"

"Hey! How you been?" said the youth group advisor.

"Pretty good."

Nyx, who had wandered away, then came back with Benny.

"This is Benny," said Cormac.

"Hello."

"Hi," said Benny. "I want to call you Mark, for some reason."

"I like Mark. Mark works."

"Okay, then. Hi, Mark."

Cameron laughed. "His name is Chad."

I laughed too, since his name isn't actually Chad.

"Should I call you Chad?" said Benny.

"Chad's fine too. It's all good."

"Hmm. How about Chad Mark?"

"Now that is a great name."

Vampires and Zombies and Spaceships, oh my!

This is another dream, courtesy of Tea's twisted subconscious. Enjoy.

My sisters (Genie and Shelby) and Mario and Nyx and I started in this dark graveyard at night, using our magic powers to keep someone else from reaching the gravestone we are guarding. The graveyard itself was a cross between the one in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Goblet of Fire, so I suppose, in that context, these actions made sense.

Everyone else had normal magic powers, spell flinging and whatnot. I was a good vampire, and the vampires in this dream didn't drink blood; instead, when they were killed, they became a spirit that had to take over a dead body or a doll. Dead bodies could be possessed indefinitely, but dolls must be replaced after only a few days or hours, proportional to their size. So, when a spell was about to hit Shelby, I jumped in front of her, taking the hit. I dissolved, leaving behind a rotting corpse.

The others, unable to fight them off without me, went home. I followed them, trying to find a new body. I got back to my room and try to find a suitable replacement. I considered my Spring Pearl doll, but she was rather tiny and won't last for long, so I decided to use one of Genie's porcelain dolls instead. Even so, I would need a new corpse soon. While I was floating, I found my Spanish textbook and workbook, which had been missing.

I found Dad and Shelby on the front lawn of the house. There was a fairly large crowd assembled, angry about the vampires. I heard Shelby say something about Mario, and I panicked that she was telling everybody that I liked him, so I made Dad shut her up. However, I didn't want to tell an angry crowd that I was a vampire, so I went looking for Mario.

I needed to ask him to go back to the graveyard and find my a dead body, but by they time I found him, he was already in the mudroom, preparing to leave. Abruptly, I hugged him, because I was happy that he was going to find me a body, and because, in dreamworld, I was into him too. He was surprised for a second, but hugged me back. I gave him a look that attempted to communicate "I like you. Please don't die." He squeezed me and said, "I don't know," before letting go, although I don't know if he was referencing the liking or the dying.

I passed Dora on my way back to my bedroom. "I don't think I like these vampires," she informed me.

In my room, Nyx and my sisters were sitting around. I tried to tell Nyx about hugging Mario, but then I realized that my sisters were listening, and considering Shelby had been talking about it ten minutes before, I didn't want to give her more ammunition. Nyx told be that she hadn't slept for two days and needed a nap. I had been dead that morning, so sleep wasn't really that big of a deal, but I figured a nap couldn't hurt, so Nyx, Genie and I squeezed into my teeny tiny bed and went to sleep. Shelby was supposed to keep watch, but she soon dozed off as well.

That was when the villain chose to strike. I woke up to see Richard (the boy in Nyx's lab group with the twin cousins who harass Gretchen) standing in the doorway. He looked pretty much like Richard always does, only something about him appeared vaguely evil. I rushed towards him, trying to fight min off, but he glided right past me. I tried to take over his mind (which vampires can do to each other) but I'd never been very good at.

"Look at her, trying to attack me. Ha!" he said, and pushed back, making me into his automaton. He then made me stand still as he hit me with a spell, killing me again. The porcelain doll fell to the closet floor, cracked and dirtied, as my spirit dissipated.

Dad then came in, and Richard informed him that they will be spared and I returned if they'll do Richard a few small favors. Dad agreed, on the condition that he got me back right away, and Richard informs me that there are a few dead bodies out on the front lawn for exactly that purpose.

Richard wanted us to steal three electrophorysis trays from my church. When we got there, they were in the middle of Bridging ceremony, but it was the weirdest church event I'd ever seen. A girl wearing a buttload of makeup was standing in the front, wiping it off, layer by layer, using little round handiwipes. We decided to get the trays by pretending we were supposed to be fixing them, so my sisters and I walked up to the front and took them.

However, just as I was walking back, the woman holding the handiwipes intercepted me. "Hold these," she said, and I passed the machine to Genie and accepted the wipes. I went to put them between my knees for better holding purposes, only to realize abruptly that I was naked, and I then proceeded to pass out.

The next thing I knew, I was clothed and on a spaceship with a tall, thirty-something black guy wearing what was, for all intents and purposes, Joseph's Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

"We have to complete a quest," he told me.

"What?"

"A quest to increase your powers. The quest of the moonfrogs."

"I was thoroughly confused, but there wasn't really much I could do about it. We came to the moon, which was shaped like one of Mars's moons, but with a hole drilled through the middle. On the outside, there were winds and floating moondust, and I became worried that they'd put me out there. Even if I couldn't die, it looked rather cold.

Instead, we flew inside the hole. We passed through a weird field, and, suddenly, I was in a store with Dad, Genie, and Shelby. We had to put the correct items into our cart in the correct order, without running out of time. I got into a fight with Genie over whether to pick cheerios or rice krispies, and then I woke up.

Anyone who can interpret this wins a gold star.

Gym Class!

As I already informed the Fabulous Vicky, I caught the football twice today (*victory boogie*). I also wore no shoes the entire gym period. The teacher, who is the football coach at school, spends the entire period on his cell phone, so most of the kids in the class dump their shoes on the track and enjoy the squishiness of shredded tires between their toes. Kathrya caught the ball, too. I will sometimes swear when the ball comes towards me. She, however, released an extremely annoyed "you have got to be kidding me." She then proceeded to catch the ball, and even remembered to run. Yay Kathrya! The only other occurrence during gym today was that while I was totally looking where I was going and being a good little football drone, Peter, who was going in entirely the wrong direction, ran headlong into me. It hurt. I'm still a bit annoyed with him about this, but I suppose I'll get over it. Eventually. Maybe.

Again, I'm working on my portfolio, and really don't have anything long and drawn out in me. I did, however, manage to locate some Spanish homework from last year. It isn't as exciting as Harry Potter, but it'll do. By the way- most of my grammatical errors are kept intact.

In 2005, I went to Italia. First, I went to Piza. I saw the inclined tower of Piza. I tried but was unable to go within the tower because it could fall. I took photos of my sisters in front of the tower. Later, my family and I went to a restaurant and we ate pizza. It was delicious, but I like more the pizza of Westport.

Later, we went to the house of my uncles, near Florence. I spoke little Italiano, but I understood more because Italiano is similar to Español. We went to a parade of Easter. There was a Jesus and many youths were apostles. In Italy, they celebrated all of the Easters with a parade. It is a very interesting tradition. My family and I went to Lucca. We saw the Cathedral of San Martino. It was old and big. The Pope Alexandro II made the cathedral in the year 1003. There was a very big wall outside of the city. We rode bicycles and strolled with bicycle on top of the wall. It was very fun.

The last week, i went to Rome. I saw the Vatican. The Vatican is wear the Pope lives. I had to wait for two hours before I went inside of. When I arrived, I heard the pope, but I did not understand him because he spoke Latin. The church was very pretty, and it pleased me a lot. Then, I went to the hotel, and in the morning I left from Rome and returned to Connecticut.

The End.

And, just to be annoying and pile MORE old, boring schoolwork on you (at least I don't have to read it!) Here's my English recruiting letter. Boy, do I make the class sound like fun.

Welcome to English 9H! That is an example of a boring and unoriginal leading sentence. Which, had I not put this off until the night before, would not exist. If I had started this letter in advanced, my sentence would read more like “Your path through English 9H will be a rocky one, but the difficult journey will be well worth it when you reach the finish line.” Well, maybe not, that has too many clichés. A word of advice for English 9H- avoid the clichés. This teacher can’t stand them. And putting papers off until the last minute, well, I’d avoid that too. If you like to knock out the whole paper in one go, go right ahead, but do so a few days in advanced. Editing and revising does wonders. That’s why grades go up with second drafts.

And another bit of info- try to avoid over-stressing about the grade. As your writing improves (and with the number of papers you’ll write, it will), your grade will go up. The first few quarters it’s a lot of work, but after that I was mostly adjusted. By the end, some of the papers were even fun. I realize that grades are important, but I’d say the writing improvement is worth a couple of Bs (which are a perfectly good grade anyways). I haven’t received any grades this year lower than that of my first reading quiz. I’ve had a few equal to it, but none lower. I think. I’ll have to ask my friend, who keeps track better than I do.

That’s another tip; work with your friends. (I apologize for any unintentional improper semicolon use). Having someone else proofread your papers can be a lifesaver. And we have a lot of readings. A friend who complains about a reading you didn’t do functions as an amazing alarm clock. Just talking to people about English class can help a lot.

My last tip- and this one is going to be in all capitols, because it is both obvious and important- DO THE READINGS. Sorry, just had to get that out there. We don’t read things for no reason. Either they help with the books, the essays, the quizzes (hint, hint), or just class discussions. I talked to someone in the class (and I won’t name names) in around February who informed me that he/she (and I don’t mean he/she is a he-she, its subject-verb agreement) had read only two of the books. He/she was not having a great time in the class, mostly because they didn’t understand what was going on (shocker). Anyways, we read something like fifteen pages per school night (only not that continuously, and mostly on weekends), so keeping up would be a good idea.

So, basically, (this is getting more unprofessional by the whatever-the-heck-so-and-basically-are) English 9H is hard work, but writing everything gets better as the year goes on, (we just read Shakespeare and wrote some fiction stuff. Yay!), and, um, work hard and stuff, but English is pretty awesome, and it was usually a bright part of my day (except when it wasn’t, like when we had a reading quiz), but overall my writing got better and it was fun. So, while I know The Odyssey looks scary, take a deep breath, and remember that things will get better. Although thing is a nonspecific word, which I should not be using. But that is beside the point. Welcome to English 9H!

Tomorrow

10 hours until SAT. I'm going to go to bed now.

But, just to keep you from getting bored....

I discovered my final planning from Western last year. I'm pretty sure that we got to pick our own topics, because I wrote about the effect of the French Revolution on the Catholic church, and I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who would actually care.

Basically, before, it was the official state religion, just like the Robin is the official state bird of our Connecticut. After, it was more like the Robin was a really well liked bird, but without the official stamp of approval, and if it were to chirp at us, we wouldn't be obliged to listen.

The Declaration of the Rights of Man, which is like the Declaration of Independence, but with a less catchy title and even more sexist phrasing, espoused religious freedom. The Civil Constitution of the Clergy said nice things about tolerance, originating the CCC, the primary rival of the slightly less tolerant KKK. This constitution reassigned bishops. I believe that this is a process similar to castling in a chess match.

Then, came the National convention and the reign of terror, which basically took the Catholic church to the guillotine, as well as making a ten day week and confusing the crap out of all the workers, who were especially disgruntled about having a seven day work week. The high level of church bashing, coupled with the severe difficulty involved in actually locating a Sunday in the new calendar, diminished church membership greatly.

Then, Napoleon put all the little pieces back together, like all the kings horses and all the king's men, only more successful.

Napoleon

All I did today (and all I plan on doing) was sing with choir at church, so I'm going to treat you to a marvelous essay (with commentary, of course) about the French Revolution.

The French Revolution was a revolution of principals (Like the four useless administrators at our school). Its slogan was “Liberty, Fraternity, Equality” (this slogan was developed by a 15 person comité de développement de slogan. Other proposals were "La Guillotene: faster and easier than impalement" and "KILL THEM ALL!!!"). The people of the revolution fought to provide France with the general freedoms in the Declaration of the Rights of Man, equality for all, and a government of the people. Napoleon’s warping of the public opinion through propaganda and arrest of dissenters, misogynistic policies, and position as unchecked ruler of France denied the principles of the Revolution by ignoring freedom, equality, and the voice of the people (although, seriously, those revolutionaries botched up the freedom thing just fine on their own. Napoleon was merely the extremely short cherry on top that happened to possess a Napoleon Complex).

Napoleon's domestic policies denied the liberty of the French people. He censored the press and largely removed freedoms of speech. Napoleon is described as shaping public opinion through “crude forms of propaganda, but more importantly by the use of secret agents, arbitrary arrests, and executions.” (Lecture 15) (I feel that this should say secret sleuths, arbitrary arrests, and egomaniacal executions, for alliterative aims). Propaganda goes against the values of the revolution. The people supported him, but this was in part because they knew of no opposing views. “Printers and booksellers swore oaths of allegiance and all newspapers fell under state control.” (Lecture 15) People were controlled by what they knew. Like a horse with blinders on, they only went straight (My use of imagery is truly exceptional, non?). When they were allowed to make a decision, they would decide based on what they knew, which was very little. People’s liberties and powers of decision-making were removed by Napoleon’s dissent squashing policies (squoosh, squash, squishyyy, squelch). By preventing opposition, he prevented opinions, even though dissenting opinions started the revolution that brought him to power. According to the Declaration of the Rights of Man, “no one should be disturbed on account of his opinions”, and Napoleon’s destruction of dissenters obviously (like, duh!) ignored this. In addition, the declaration said, “The free communication of ideas and opinions is one of the most precious of the rights of man,” which clearly conflicts with Napoleons policy of propaganda. The Declaration of the Rights of Man was written to show what the revolters believed in. By ignoring the declaration, Napoleon effectively ignored the opinion of the revolution.

On second thought, this thing is unnecessarily long, so I'll just summarize the rest. Basically, Napoleon was also a total douche about women, and said (and I quote) “the husband must possess the absolute power and right to say to his wife: Madame, you shall not go out, you shall not visit such and such a person: for the children you bear, they shall be mine”. If some short little bastard said that to me, I would slap him. Also, empires aren't really freedom oriented, so being declared emperor screwed up that whole thing. My last paragraph is a mere three sentences long and makes no attempt at a big picture. Opmin would be displeased.

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Tea

Casual Fridays

Or, in my case, shoeless Fridays.

I just don't like wearing, shoes, okay? It isn't as if most people even notice, and when they do, they laugh, and think that I'm slightly insane, but whatever.

I did, however, wear shoes to the gala (which I went to with Nyx) last night. We had to conversations with other people while we were there. In the first, we ran into Kerry and Lysander.

Nyx and I walked up to them, Nyx started talking a bit, and I stood there kind of awkwardly, because the conversation wasn't really related to me at all. After a minute, give or take 45 seconds, she decided to introduce me.

"Oh, guys, this is Tea. Tea, this is Lysander."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you," I said.

"You too," he responded.

We both stood awkwardly for a moment while I tried to determine whether I should attempt a handshake, since his hands were full, but it felt rude to just stand there, so the silence dragged on for a bit, until Nyx opened her mouth to talk and Kerry and I interrupted simultaneously, him with "I know Tea already" and me with "I already know Kerry."

I checked out of the conversation at that point.

As we went up the stairs, we passed Ryan, Ida, and Cammie. I said, "Hi, hi, hi," my voice growing progressively higher pitched with each, and Ida, who was third, laughed.

"Hi, Tea."

"Hello," I replied, greeting her again, as Nyx and I continued up the stairs.

"Oh," Ida called, "are you wearing shoes?"

"Of course!"

"I don't believe it," said Cammie.

"Let me see," Ida ordered.

I swung my leg over the banister, flip-flop and all. "See? Shoe!"

"Good job."

Unfortunately, I think I managed to lose Nyx's socks at some point during this conversation, which I really do feel quite badly about.

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I leave you with my final essay using my midterm planning from Western Humanities, this essay about Historical Values.

During the Renaissance, they like Renaissance Men. This is because this era was horribly repressive towards women, so they didn't want to be Renaissance Women. Also, Renaissance Men knew a whole lot of stuff, like Da Vinci, who was awesome. As far as art goes, there was Michelangelo, who spent years of his life on his back (painting a ceiling, of course). They were also really religious, so Michelangelo painted a lot of overly muscled angels. The government was decentralized, which is a big word, so should be used frequently in essays, so the church took up the decentralized slack with the powerful, decentralized pope, who did many powerful decentralized things, because decentralization is decentralizingly important.

In Rome, they were big on Pietas, which, unfortunately, has nothing to do with Tas flavored pie. They did their duty and had a big army, and the had Gravitas, which we still have too, since I have yet to float away. Gravitas is also exemplified in the Star Wars Storm Troopers, but I have no idea how, since I can't remember what Gravitas is, but it probably has something to do with their sick awesome artificial gravity. Dignitas is like dignity, but spelled wrong, according to my spell checker, and it caused fighting and class separation. This is why my eschewing of dignity and not wearing shoes is good and will end all fighting and class separation.

The End.

Spanish Homework

Here comes another interesting translation, courtesy of yours truly.

We had to write what our schedule would be if we went to Hogwarts, using real teachers from school.

In History and Rights of Magical Creatures Class (taught by Opmin, of course), we learn about the history of magical creatures like ghosts and houselves. We visit the kitchen and meet some houselves. We read books that were written by ghosts and centaurs.

In Divination (taught by Mrs. Leon, my English teacher), we learn about the future. We have to write long essays about the information that we find. We use tea and a crystal ball. We observe dreams and look for a good future.

Arithmancia (taught by my math teacher). The teacher loves aritmancy. In this class, we learn how to use the numbers of the letters in our names to learn important information. We have tests and use calculators to do the homework.

My Spanish teacher teaches ancient runes. In this class, we translate the runes to English and Latin in order to understand them. We study the grammar and spelling of the runes. Sometimes, we talk in the language of the runes to practice.

The Music of the Mages (taught by my Music Theory teacher). The ancient wizards had interesting music. In this class, we listen to music like gregorian chants. Also, we talk a lot about whatever the teacher wants, like her new granddaughter. Sometimes, we write songs and play them.

In Artistic Transfiguration (taught by everyone's favorite drawing teacher), we make works of art that use skills we learned in the Introduction to Transfiguration class last year. We recreate what we see to practice and at the end, we can use creativity.

In potions (taught by Dr. A.P. bio) we use the rules of chemistry to make important potions. This year, I have created a sleeping draught, a love potion, and a potent poison. We spend a lot of time in the potions lab and use magic equipment and machines.

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To complete this post, I leave you with a brief essay on religion, crafted using my notes from last year's western midterm.

In the middle ages, religion was the only unifying force. This is because we don't have The Force, like in Star Wars, which would have been a much better unifying force, because, honestly, the church wasn't all that wonderful. It started with Charlemagne, who's name has a completely unnecessary silent G, because he was crowned by the pope. This basically consisted of Charlemagne dragging his butt down to the Vatican for a ridiculously long ceremony that culminated in the decidedly boring action of placing a crown on his head. The pope did stuff until the renaissance, but there were actually a lot of different popes, because, despite the divine power they supposedly have, they don't life forever.

The reformation was the reformation of religion, so, duh, religion changed. Big whoop.

In ancient greece, religion was used to explain life, because for all their super-intense pythagorean theorums, those greek peeps didn't know squat, and they used religion for values as well, and it provided entertainment, because they didn't have T.V. and needed religious ceremonies to fill their horribly empty days.

The End

Education

My beloved readers: I am currently very tired, so I will leave you with some things from my school life. I was going to give you my Power of One essay from last year, about the supreme awesomeness of Gutenberg (printing presses ftw), but it's a rather well-written paper, and is, thus, both impossible to make fun of and decidedly boring. I did, however, find my planning for my midterm essay on Art Throughout the Ages, so I figured I'd give my year-later summary of that.

From the renaissance, we have the Last Supper, a painting of Jesus and some other guys who look like Jesus, and they are eating supper. It was Jesus's last supper, but everyone else was probably going to eat again tomorrow. Unless they were attending the execution, in which case they probably decided to fast. The Renaissance government was really decentralized, mostly because everyone was so busy trying to be Renaissance Men that they didn't have time to specialize in government and, you know, govern, and whatnot. They mostly went to church instead, cause they were all Catholic. So, the art was Catholic, with lots of Saints and other dead people who were also Catholic. Catholicism was kind of a big deal back then.

During the Reformation, things were reformed. Martin Luther, who is like Martin Luther King only white, redid the whole religious thing and created protestantism. This would establish him as the original goth teenager, as he struggle to be nonconformist and not be Catholic inspired him to go hang out in a different place where everyone was the same, just a different the same.

In Ancient Greece, there were a lot of naked people. We know this because there are lots of pictures of naked greek people. The fancy explanation for this is that they appreciated the human form. The real explanation is that Greece is near the equator and, thus, is really fucking hot. If it was a zillion degrees out and you had no air conditioner, I think that you, too, would rather run around naked.

So, Art reflects culture. Catholic art is Catholic, Reformative art is not Catholic, but it's all protestant, which is kind of the same thing. Greek art is pretty much all naked.

The End

Also, I'm going to leave you with a quote. You're welcome to guess where it's from, although I doubt you will.

"I think that I love society as much as most, and am ready enough to fasten myself like a bloodsucker for the time to any full-blooded man that comes my way."

Conversation Avoidance

As you may or may not be aware, I don't always want to talk. With my friends, I'm perfectly conversational, but with people I don't know, I tend to be more reserved. This weekend, I have finally found a perfect method for tactfully avoiding having to talk to people. Although this method may only be effective on nerdy guys, I've found that they make up a very large percentage of the people I don't want to talk to.

I've tried other methods before. Last weekend, I went on a community service overnight with a few other kids from my church. After dinner, we were told to go sit in booths (like those tables with benches you eat dinner at) to listen to a speaker. I slid in next to Liza, facing in the direction of the speaker. At that point, a freshman from a different chruch's group who I had thought was a perfectly normal boy came over. "Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked.

"Not at all," I responded, polite as always. He sat down, the speaker began talking. It was then that Craig (I don't actually remember his name. If it actually is Craig, I'm very sorry) decided to act. He shifted closer to me. I leaned towards Liza. He scooted a bit more towards me, so his hip bumped mine. I deliberately moved into Liza, squishing her against the wall. I then had to stay completely still for the rest of the speech to avoid giving the scooter more of a wrong impression than I already had.

This method was ineffective because my leg fell asleep and because Liza made fun of my repeatedly afterwards. So, in an effort to avoid future awkward encounters, I developed a fool-proof avoidance method.

This weekend, I tucked my math team practice packets into may bag. Whenever I didn't feel like talking, I would begin doing the packets. When someone I didn't want to talk to came over, I would find a problem that I couldn't do and give it to them. This worked well the first time, when my lab partner, Rube, spent 20 minutes trying to solve a problem that he still couldn't figure out.

So, when I was on the train home, Sean, who I don't really know, intercepted me while I was waiting in line for the bathroom (alone, because mario drove in with his dad again), waited while I used the bathroom, walked to the platform- still talking- then asked me, about ten minutes in, what my name was. When we got on the train, I pulled out a book, but the chatter continued. So, I pulled out the math packets. Sean proceeded to solve Rube's unsolvable circle-hyperbola tangency (apparently it requires calculus), then stare over my shoulder and correct my math for the rest of the trip.

So much for actually getting my homework done.

Catering

Only I would spend my Saturday night on my feet, passing out spring rolls and heart attacks (breadsticks wrapped in sugar-coated bacon), for absolutely no pay.

         Now, I will acknowledge that it was volunteer work, so I was contributing to the the money raising efforts of a good cause, but I did think it was extremely fun. For some reason, I really enjoy smiling at creepy old guys as they reach for another auderve ("just one more..."). I mostly just enjoyed feeling useful. It's the same as my Saturday class really, where even though I spend just as much time in transportation vehicles as I do in class, I just feel so much more productive than I do after an morning in bed.

Speaking of transportation, I have a question about the English language. I ride in a car or cab. I ride on the bus, train, and aeroplane. If I said I was riding on a car, people would tell me that I shouldn't be on the roof. Why is this?

On a side note about the catering, it really was just like in Sarah Dessen's The Truth About Forever. I honestly don't care how many times I read that book- it always makes catering sound phenomenally fun.