Extended Weekend of Awesome Awesomeness

This can also be referred to "the time that Tea decided not to study for her midterms, and instead elected to enjoy her spontaneously week-long school vacation."

No, I am not kidding about the week bit. Wednesday was a snowday, Thursday had a delayed opening, Friday was staff development, Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and Tuesday was another snow day. Yes, this is a lot of no-school, so, of course, I did a lot with it.

Thursday afternoon--ran science bowl practice. I made a list of all this stuff to look up, then didn't look it up. In my defense, my teammates said they were unwilling to start learning it before midterms anyway. Drove Julie home from ScienceBowl Practice. Well, not quite home--I started the weekend off with a bang by getting into my first ever car crash. Yup. Good stuff. Julie was giving me directions while talking about her sexy boyfriend (not that I'd know if he was sexy because I STILL HAVEN'T MET HIM!!!), she broke off midsentence to say "you should have turned there." I then totally misjudged the truck's ability to break (I blame it on the fact that the entire bed was full of snow, but I didn't think of this until the next day, so it's not a very good excuse), turned anyways, and whipped straight into an oncoming car. The driver of that car was really, really really really pissed, but I stayed relatively calm, even after she (totally unnecessarily, I might add) called the police. Then I called my dad, who untangled the vehicles, both of which are still totally drivable. Cosmetic damages, people. I drove the truck home, explained everything to my mother, then panicked about how much money I was going to lose.

Friday: I discover that the deductible on the insurance is a mere $500, so I'm only down between 500 and 627 dollars (those gosh-darned police gave me a ticket for driving on the wrong side of the road, which I'm likely going to argue because I wasn't driving on the wrong side of the road, I swerved into the wrong side of the road due to an inability to judge the breaking ability of my father's pickup truck...but I digress). This was immensely comforting. I also rediscovered the buckyballs I got for Christmas and proceeded to spend most of the day attempting to build a 6x6x6 cube (for the record, I did eventually succeed). I also took my younger sisters shopping at Delias, where I bought a gray sweater, new boot-cut jeans (note that I've stopped referring to the clothing that now fits me as fat pants), and a $20 jacket that I am head over heels in love with. Shelby spend a lot of money in exchanges and gift cards and is still pretty excited about it. I'm just glad that I have pants that fit that I can wear with boots, because given the current snow situation, boots are a must.

Saturday: I spent all of the daylight hours milling around and feeling like I ought to be doing something. I probably started in on my final project for Mideast. I finished reading the entire archive of Ben Jones's blog at MIT, then read the entirety of Laura's. I went to a yoga class, where I failed miserably at giving off the appearance of having any idea what I was doing. The fact that my calves are so tight that I can't do a proper downward dog (apparently a very important portion of vinyasa), and my arms are so weak I can't do this weird lying down thingy we had to do a kazillion times, and the my blood pressure is still so low I felt like I was going to black out by the time we reached the 10,000th forward bend--where was I going with this?--oh, right, did nothing to diminish my enjoyment of the class. It was not quite as successful as the first class was--I spend a good three days after that one feeling sexy (no, I do not know why, but it probably was some sort of hormonal thing meant to reward me for finally getting my ass off my swivel chair)--but still nice. Then I came home, inhaled my dinner, and spent three hours ice skating. The ice skates made circular bruises around my ankles for reasons as-yet unknown. I felt so active on Saturday night, you have no idea.

Sunday I don't really remember, which means it was probably boring. I think I got the oil changed on the cars, but that might have been Thursday. Or Friday. I think it was Friday, actually, now that you mention it. And I've just remembered that Sunday wasn't boring! Kathrya came over, ostensibly to do homework (we didn't). We skyped with Bart! Saudi-Arabia-dwelling Bart! Kathrya was so excited I'm kind of surprised she didn't implode. I enjoyed the opportunity to actually put my computer's built-in webcam to use (also, talking to Bart was fun).

Monday I did stuff. What did I do? Again, I'm rambling because I don't remember. Stuff probably happened, most likely. I slept pretty late. I went to Borders and exchanged one book my parents got me for Christmas for a host of other books, including 2 Eloisa James romance novels (I read one, but the second one isn't really working for me, since the protagonist is like 20, very much unrelatable, and is pretty definitely going to end up with a 43 year old. Laaaame). I also got Ned Vizzini's autobiographical essays written at age 19. I am in love with teenage Ned Vizzini. It is unfortunate, but it is true. If he was my age, he'd probably have a blog. I should probably find blogs of random teenage guys to read, so that I develop weird writing crushes on people my own age, instead of the historical version of older people. I'll work on it later--for now: Hot Guys Reading Books!

Tuesday I set my alarm for 6:10, called the snow line with my eyes closed, then slept for another three hours. I read books. I played the piano. I hid in my room while my sisters cooked both dessert and dinner (I'm really going to need to get over my irrational fear of cooking). I played with buckyballs some more. I ignored messages from Rube and Bart while I was reading, didn't manage to respond to Bart until he wasn't there anymore, never responded to Rube, talked briefly to Greg before he had to go to lab (but not before Olive stole his computer and started typing to me). Then I started reading Yan's blog over on MIT admissions, got about halfway through her freshman year posts, then saw that she got a UROP at Sadoway Group. Then I had an absurd jealous breakdown, followed by a decision to actually read some of the papers by the group to make certain that my minor obsession was founded on fact and not some imaginary "OH MY GOSH FLOW BATTERIES" thing, since they work on other stuff (that said OH MY GOSH FLOW BATTERIES AND HE WAS REFERENCED IN THE CANON THE DAY AFTER I WENT BY HIS LAB AND MET WITH RANDOM GRAD STUDENTS OH EM GEEEEE. Plus he teaches intro chem and is apparently really awesome. And the lab appears to be doing cool stuff). Pardon the all-caps, but I have limited self control. I started reading one of the papers (well, I saw that layer-by-layer is abbreviated LbL, giggled madly, then went to the living room to collect my laundry). I decided to write this post instead of reading the paper, took note of my current more-intellectual reading (it's about the fact that gender bias and subconscious-driven gender discrimination is damaging our nation's school children, and it's particularly awesome in that it's addressing the fact that gender bias is harmful to both girls and boys (something that a lot of boys with high feminist-potentials seem turned off by is the whole "only girls are being damaged" thing)), then came back to my room, where I proceeded to while away the hours until I was tired enough to go to sleep.

Reasons

REASONS WHY I COULD NEVER MANAGE A TRADITIONAL HIGH SCHOOL RELATIONSHIP

1) I am way too busy

2) The people involved in them always seem really into it. I take one look at romantic and think "sappy, sappy, sappy." Unless it's in romance novels, but even then, there are times when I just end up yelling NARM in my head. Like I did out loud during the HP7 movie when Ron was going on and on and on about that ball of light. For reals, I'm a big Ron/Hermione shipper, and I thought it was too much.

3) That busy thing, again.

4) I can't remember the last time I had free time.

5) But really, if I did, I'd rather spend it reading webcomics.

6) We'll ignore the fact that my last relationship did a very good job subsisting on webcomics.

7) Including during the breakup.

8) That goddamned idiot.

9) Seriously, if that's what high school has to offer, I am more than happy to leave it alone.

REASONS WHY I AM WAY TOO BUSY

1. I am smart.
2. But not smart enough to only work hard enough to skate by.
3. In fact, even when I could work a lot less hard than I do, I put in a lot of effort.
4. I like to think of it as dedication.
5. Also, I'm kind of trying to hold down jobs.
6. It's a fun time.
7. I talk online too much.
8. I don't know how to "reflect" in a timely fashion.
9. I take too much time to draft my English papers.
10. I get distracted and read books.
11. I get distracted and play tetris.
12. I develop headaches and lie down.
13. I don't have effective time management skills.
14. Except when I do have effective time management skills, but then I forget to eat

REASONS WHY I ONLY ATE ONE MEAL TODAY

1. Scones are really filling
2. I've eaten five scones during the course of the day.
3. After eating half a pack of blueberries, I forgot to eat breakfast.
4. Then we had Channukah Brunch at 2:30.
5. At that point, it didn't make sense to eat dinner.
6. Then I wrote my Lit X paper again.
7. That made me forget about food

REASONS WHY I AM STRESSED OUT

1. I really want to go to MIT
2. I applied early action to MIT
3. I don't actually know when the early action decision comes out
4. It's probably not far enough away for me to finish my list of things I need to get done by that date.
5. My college essays are crappy.
6. If I don't get into MIT, I'm going to cry, and I don't particularly enjoy crying.
7. My room looks like a tornado blew though.
8. No, seriously, a tornado. It's getting really bad.
9. All I want to do is read.
10. Then sleep.
11. I miss sleep.
12. Also, I want to sit at home and work instead of going to school.
13. Because school is not productive, and I need to have complete productivity until I finish this shit.
14. I'm actually kind of looking forward to winter break, because even if I don't get in early anywhere, I can work uninterrupted. Kind of.

REASONS WHY I SHOULD NOT BE STRESSED OUT

1. Probability states that I will get into MIT
2. Even if I don't get into MIT, I have lots of solid backup plans, and it's a hard school to get into, and no one will think less of me if I don't get in.
3. If anyone does think less of me, I will take them down.
4. Well, I'll try to get Nyx to beat them up, which is kind of the same thing.
5. I have super awesome friends (like Nyx), who would totally be mean to people if people were mean to me.
6. People are not, generally, particularly mean to me. As a nerd, I could have it a lot worse.
7. Early Action decisions might come out late, in which case I'll have more time to finish my to do list.
8. I will edit my college essays until they are not crappy.
9. I always get all my work done. This will be no exception.
10. I can sleep when I'm dead.
11. I can also sleep next semester.
12. It's almost CHRISTMAS PARTY TIME
13. and then it's CHRISTMAS TIME
14. I AM SO EXCITED
15. WHOOO
16. YAY
17. LOOK HOW NOT STRESSED I AM RIGHT NOW

Independence Day

Fireworks are truly amazing. And the ones here? Definitely worth the 20 hour wait.

Saturday night, at one in the morning, I took my quilt and a soft blanket, a backpack full of study materials I didn't touch, and a change of clothes for the morning, and walked to the Esplanade. I think probably thirty or forty of the Rickoids walked down at that time, which is a pretty decent percentage. I walked with Dawson, who I've befriended, Donny, who was, for once, not surgically attached to his girlfriend, and Hassan, whose girlfriend I have stalked.

Donny continued with his forced Indian accent, Hassan encouraged me to pursue my patent because it just sounds really cool, and I made fun of Dawson for being from hicksville and having helicopter parents. At some point, Anders popped out of nowhere, which he does rather frequently. Although he'd told me, when I asked, that he was planning on going back to the dorm and sleeping, and he looked damn exhausted, he had apparently changed his mind.

Fortunately, he put up with me when I got sleepy and started singing You! Me! Dancing! to myself, and if he made fun of me when I tripped up the stairs, I can't remember it, so that's all good. When we arrived, the silly people who didn't travel with their own blankets taped down their tarps, and I settled down comfortably between Anders and Dawson.

Anders left an hour or so later, but Teresa took his spot so I was still somewhat warm, and the few hours after that was spent playing truth or dare (I had to slap Ululani's ass, and then I later got my cheek kissed (it was VERY ROMANTIC), but, for the most part, the game was pretty tame. Example, brought to you by Norman and Iditri: "Truth" "Describe a sexual fantasy." "I've never had one." "That's lame." "I haven't!" (guess which is which!)), which is kind of weird to do with that many people.

At some point, as it was beginning to get light again, Dawson went back, but left me his sweatshirt so I'd have a pillow, and I got Zsa to come over and keep me warm, so she and I bundled up and went to sleep.

I was, at that point, approximately 3:30 am. I woke up at 6:30. It was not good.

On Turning 17

I missed my own birth time this evening. Whoops.

Oh, well. I'm not that distressed. I mean, it's cool to turn a year older, to have another year of memories behind you. It's just, I have this big moment of "growing older many times a year"- when I start the school year, finish the school year, Christmas, New Years, my birthday...it adds up.

This does, however, mark a year from when I decided to start blogging. Well, as I'm sure you're aware, it's not like I actually did, but we can ignore that fact.

I think that's enough musing for a day. Who wants to hear about Mario?

Well, today in science research I went over to the computer right away, with Julie, but the one on the end didn't work, so I switched over her, and ended up sitting between Julie and Mario. On the other side of the bank of computers, her feet propped up on the table next to the printer, sat Krystal.

Aside from asking Mario if he was going to class tomorrow (as of right now, yes, but if anything changes he'll text me) and noting that he got a haircut ("it looks nice." "Thanks.) I mostly stared at my powerpoint and occasionally chattered with Julie about birthdays and Fridays and other information of some interest but not interesting enough to repeat.

At some point, somehow, we got to talking about gym, or being late, or something to the effect of Mario showing up half an hour late for gym this morning.

"Was that actually half an hour?" I asked.

"Yeah, about."

"Remind me again how you still have credit in gym?"

"Oh, all the absences are excused."

"How do you manage that?"

"I woo the woman at the front desk."

"You know Patty?!?" interjected Krystal (assume that all of her dialogue is in all caps with multiple punctuative symbols at the end).

"That's her name?" said Mario.

"I don't understand this whole wooing business," I said again.

"Well, I basically convinced her that if she gave me an excused note, that was all she had to do, but if she gave me an unexcused, she would need to go online, and fill out a form, and it would really just be far too much trouble."

"And that actually worked?"

"Once."

"So what'd you do today?"

"I said I had to pick up my brother."

"Because your brother doesn't live with you..."

"I go to the gym before school."

"Ah." I crinkled my eyebrows, thinking, as always.

"Wait, you go to the gym before school?" said Krystal, loudly, as always.

"Yes."

"Do you shower?"

"What?"

"Don't you smell bad?"

"Um."

"Do you shower when you go to the gym."

He looked at her.

"Wouldn't you smell bad?"

"What, do you want to smell me or something?"

Krystal, taking him entirely at his word, stood up and walked around the desks. She started leaning towards him and he stood up, using what height he has to his advantage. She put her nose near his arm and sniffed.

Mario looked rather confused as she continued sniffing up his arm. Julie and I were, by this time, in near-hysterics.

"I can't smell anything," announced Krystal.

"Um," said Mario.

"Lemme try your hair," she said, unsuccessfully attempting to bring her nose close enough to his hair to smell it. She then brought a stool over.

Mario tensed and leaned back slightly, his eyes all screwed up. His face looked like one a small child would make before getting a shot, something of an anticipatory wince.

Dr. Verona caught sight of Krystal on the chair and said "Krystal, demerit."

"He made me do it!"

Mario snorted but returned to his work, which seemed to consist of repeatedly highlighting the same words on a UPenn website.

"When you scroll over a person, it highlights the fields they work in, and when you scroll over a field, it highlights the people."

"That's handy."

"I suppose so." He then proceeded to give the computer monitor that oddly intent stare of his, and Krystal returned to her seat, and the conversation ended.

Welcome to Twenty-Ten

I rang in the new year with a glorious melon drop last night. Good throw, Lysander.

The snow war was extremely fun, and I, for once in my life, was not completely cold. A bit chilly, yes, but not that awful shivering "I'll never be warm again" freezing I usually am. Cammie and Cormac spent nearly the entire time engaged in an epic snowball fight. The rest of us were merely auxiliary assistance. I was thrilled that the weather turned out so perfectly. Despite the forecast of rain at seven, it was just cold enough that snow kept falling.

Such perfection. There is nothing better than ringing in the new year with just the right weather and people you love (cause I love all of my friends. mwah!)

Tonight, I watched old home videos with my family. I seem to have spent most of my early years smiling absurdly whenever my parents played with me, which was frequently. I now understand why my mother needed a nanny when all three of us were under five and we were living in a mansion. "Daddy, do it again! Do it again!" can lead to very tired parental units.

My balance and grace doesn't seem to have improved much in the intervening years. I seemed incapable of getting through an entire filmed scene without falling on my bottom. Oh, the woes of the young and clumsy.

Emunction

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

Cherub #1: You just picked your nose!

Cherub #2: Did not.

Cherub #1: Did too.

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

Cherub #1: You so picked it.

Cherub #2: I did.

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

Cherub #3: Ewwwwww. That's gross.

Cherub #1: Is not.

Cherub #2: Yeah, it's not.

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

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

Time for a Breather

Thank god.

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

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

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

A Summary

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

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

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

Doorbell

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

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

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

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

Happy Hanukkah!

Again.

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

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

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

God we're weird.

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

Bring Out Your Yarmulke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Hirten Attempts to Orchestrate Romance

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

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

Oh, Christmas Tree

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of holidays, does anyone know when Hanukkah starts?

Sweet Revenge

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

"Who is this?"

"Tea."

"Who?"

"Tea."

"Who?"

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

Operation Forget Mario

I have decided that this ridiculous crush thing is going to stop right here. I am sick of all the blushing and other ridiculousness, and I am moving onto greener pastures. Well, I'll move onto greener pastures eventually. I suppose that'll have to be phase II, assuming the phase I trials go well.

Anyways, my plan is to excise him from my mind and life for the rest of September (the life removal bit is made more difficult by having two classes with him, but I have faith!). I will not bring him up in conversation. If any of you attempt to tease me, I will hit you or ignore you, depending on my mood. Please don't point out the blushing, since I'm hoping that it'll go away if I stop thinking about it. I'm not going to write about him either, here or in my journal. I will even try not to think about him, although that really didn't work to well last fall. This will be an entirely Mario-less month. After 30 days, on October 1st (HALLOWEEN! (that is a joke directed at Tierra, who doesn't actually read this, but whatever)), I will stop and reevaluate.

Don't wish me luck. That would be a reminder.