Things I Do Not Like

People who willfully cause pain to others.

Computer software with a trial period.

Ubuntu partitions that don't function.

Cellphones with diminished battery capacity.

Poorly written books.

Poorly written fan fiction.

Poorly written scientific papers.

My lab partners.

My scientific paper.

My inability to properly work a scanner.

The lack of image editing software on my computer.

My innate stinginess.

The fact that I still haven't practiced piano.

How loud my leg-twitching habit is.

Undercooked cookies.

My ex-not-boyfriend.

Mean people.

Whoever invented menstrual cramps.

Evolution deniers.

Feminist haters.

Feminist haters who argue incompetently.

People who talk faster than I can think.

College applications.

The fact that I am still obsessed with MIT (even Yale couldn't break me).

Headaches.

Menstrual cramps.

Menstrual cramps.

Menstrual cramps.

It really is remarkable

Just how much work work manages to be. I remember next to nothing from these days, just a cloud of sleeping off sickness, infecting others (Dawson, I'm sorry), and reading paper after paper after endless paper.

Oh, and writing. That second milestone was a fair bit of work, I suppose, although I think a better chunk of the 13th was spent pretending to read S. Mckee's thesis on nuclear energy, which I never did get all the way through (although I did manage to forget to cite her half-life data. Whoops).

I'm going to say that this was the day that I walked to dinner with Jared and Bashir, because it will make for a more interesting post.

Bashir is the crazy Lebanese guy who works in my lab. He is, as I've said, crazy, but you will probably get more on that later.

Jared is Bashir's roommate. Jared is a big Asian guy from a big city (and I say big in a relatively loose sense of the word, because, while tall and muscle-y, he is still extremely skinny) who wears baggy t-shirts and long shorts and waves his arms and gesticulates in a manner suggesting a comfortable existence in a ghetto.

On this particular day, I walked out of the dorm with the pair of them.

"Why," asked Bashir, "are there no black people in RSI?"

Jared and I looked at him.

"There are not! I look, and I see black people, and they are all MITES. There are none here. Why are there no black people."

Jared looked pained.

"Why!" demanded Bashir.

"Well, there was supposed to be one, but his visa fell though, and he was, like, actually from Africa," I said.

"No, look, see," said Jared. "You can't just ask this shit."

"I just did. You say I cannot ask this, but then look! I do!"

"I think what Jared means is that it's not the sort of thing that one generally talks about. It's a sensitive subject."

"Yes! That's it. We don't talk about it. You just pretend that it doesn't exist."

"Why would I pretend that it doesn't exist when it so clearly does?"

"Because that's what you do," responded Jared. "You pretend, and then it just, I dunno, goes away."

"I'm not exactly certain that it--" I started.

"It will not go away. Look at your movies."

"What?" said both Jared and I.

"All the black people in the movies--they are stupid. Stupid. So stupid. They cannot talk, they cannot live, they cannot make money. They are poor and stupid. What am I supposed to think about black people here when all I see is 'blacks are dumb'?"

"SHUT UP! Bashir, don't let anybody hear you!" Jared looked worried.

"Well, what do black people do?" asked Bashir.

"I dunno, they play basketball," said Jared.

"I'm not sure that's the sort of thing you would think that you should be saying," I said.

"Shut up."

"Jared, I thought that you played basketball."

"I used to."

"Why'd you stop?" I asked.

"Were the black people better than you? Did they make your asian-boy look stupid?" asked Bashir, before beginning to laugh.

"Bashir, someone is going to hear you, and they are going to beat you up."

"No, they will not. The only one who will beat me up is you, and you won't, because you love me."

"I do not love you."

"You are my roommate. Of course you love me."

"You are so fucking crazy."

Bashir just laughed.

It has been eight days since I last posted

Whoops.

I suppose I could post retroactively, since blogger enables me to.

I went back to the last day that we had, and I can't remember much at all. I know that we had a speaker who'd gone to RSI, and I could share gossip about him, but, in the scheme of things, that's somewhat identifiable, which would be, overall, not good.

Ah, wait, it's beginning to come back to me. Last Thursday, the day before the day which I am going to put this post on, I got moved to a new mentorship, which is really, really unusual, and I'm not going to talk about it anymore for fear of stepping on virtual toes, which, to be perfectly honest, I've done quite a lot of already.

Anyways, I got moved over to nuclear engineering. Yes, that's right, nuclear engineering. Because, you know, electrical didn't sound quite imposing enough. Now, some of you might be aware of the fact that I know very little about nuclear energy. As in, most of what I learned about it I learned from a single information packet that I got during summer chemistry, long, long ago. Thus, I have spent a large percentage of the last few days (and all of both Thursday and 'today') reading an introductory textbook to nuclear energy.

While nuclear engineering is rather riveting, textbook reading is rather exhausting, so I didn't write very much, if at all, during that textbook period.

Weirdly, the spellcheck on this computer refuses to believe that didn't is a word. I am very, very confused.

A Fairly Unproductive Day

I did very little today. Having a free period has already begun to endow me with an increased propensity for procrastination. It's rather unfortunate, really.

I've also been web surfing. First I was sucked into TVTropes, which I found through XKCD, and then I ended up reading another long Harry Potter fan fiction that is actually turning out to be really good, and I'd quite like to finish that up this evening, so I'm not going to write particularly much.

Interesting, how now that I finished with the Hemingway my sentences have gotten almost intolerably verbose.

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.

Massive Suction

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

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

Fireyes

Today, during English, I glanced over at Alfredo. He was staring at a small spot towards the front of his desk. He looked rather as if he was attempting to set in on fire with his gaze. This continued for a good ten seconds before I got distracted at looked away. I think he's attempting to develop Matilda-esque powers.

Now, I don't know if all of you are aware, but one of my many pointless hobbies is reading dating advice websites. There's a certain amount of irony involved in that- probably roughly equivalent to Mario's reading Cosmo. One of them linked to this, which is (advisory warning here) basically inappropriate drawings of Disney heroes. I, of course, was thoroughly distracted. There's something both incongruous and enthralling about Prince Eric (from The Little Mermaid) making a "sexyface" at the camera and wearing next to nothing. I'd honestly thought that he didn't have anything under that billowing blouse. I clicked through all of them, actually laughing at Hercules (nobody can have arms that big, it just doesn't work), before going back and sighing over the skinny, geeky, bespectacled guy from Atlantis with the glowing blue pendent.

It's funny, isn't it, that I see just as, if not more, inappropriate pictures of women on a daily basis in everything from advertisements to museums, and yet these drawings feel so much more scandalous. I mean, seriously, naked girls are everywhere, but we still freak out over photos of penises on wikipedia pages that are completely related to the topic. It's sexism, I think, but I haven't the foggiest idea how to deal with it.

And yes, foggy is still my word of the day.

Reading Today

is Dean Koontz's The Good Guy. It's fairly suspenseful, but also has some rather horrific prose. Below are a few gems from the first one hundred twenty seven pages.

• His preference for simplicity was so strong that he might have been happy as a monk in a particularly spartan monastery, except that monks were not permitted to murder people
• Rooney looked like a black-belt wannabe who, though never having taken a karate lesson, had tried to break a lot of concrete blocks with his face.
• If a spirit could be weighed and measured, Max would have proved to be bigger than his house.

For some reason, the character descriptions strike me as funny. Perhaps this is due to the rather drawn out metaphors.

Speaking of which, I think I'll add a Bulwer-Lytton to the bottom of this, just for a laugh. At the very least, it'll make me laugh.

"The moment he laid eyes on the lifeless body of the nude socialite sprawled across the bathroom floor, Detective Leary knew she had committed suicide by grasping the cap on the tamper-proof bottle, pushing down and twisting while she kept her thumb firmly pressed against the spot the arrow pointed to, until she hit the exact spot where the tab clicks into place, allowing her to remove the cap and swallow the entire contents of the bottle, thus ending her life." -Artie Kalemeris

Diaries

I just spent about forty minutes reading these. Highly enjoyable.

Today in ASR, I was sitting at my table with my assigned biweekly seating group. I sit across from Elle, who friended everyone in the grade on facebook before starting ninth grade. Next to me is Angela, one of only two sophomores in the class, who always seems to have the lost wide-eyed expression that makes me want to help her. Across from her is Lumiere (I can have a weird nickname every now and then if I want to), who says that he's already gotten into a college that sounds suspiciously like Stanford, probably on an athletic thing, because how else could anyone know where they're going already (*cough* stupid fucking jocks *cough cough*).

Anyways, Dr. Verona was talking and talking about something that was fairly interesting, but not quite interesting to devote my full attention to. I believe it had something to do with the wonders of using Google Docs for creating scientific diagrams, which he claims is extremely easy, but I actually find it rather difficult. Due to boredom and general confusion, I pulled out my handy-dandy sharpie and my assignment planner and began doodling on the back. As I completed my first very pretty spiral, my pinky smudged it, so there was a little gray sticky-outie bit. I paused and began to glare at it, extremely upset. Lumiere and Elle started cracking up. "That's just awful!" said Elle, continuing to laugh. I giggled a bit, but I didn't really think it was that funny. Angela looked lost and confused, per usual. I corrected my doodle by doing a cool little wave pattern thing, and when I finish the back (assuming I don't smudge it again) it should turn out alright.

Later on, in that same class, we were working on the computers, so I decided to check my email. I had one from Vicky that was about a certain someone who she is really not supposed to be writing to me about. However, I read the whole thing, then abruptly realized that that same someone was sitting all of three feet away from me, and immediately clicked away, hoping that no one had been reading over my shoulder.

Also awkward: I now know precisely what underwear my math teacher, Mrs. James, wears. (Green with pink polka-dots panties thinner than mine but wider than a thong, for anyone who cares). Beautiful as the green skirt she wore today is, she really ought to be more careful. Aside from the underwear, though, do you think I could just steal her clothes? Because I really do like a lot of them. This is as opposed to Ms. Martie, my health teacher, who owns one pair of pants in two different colors, from what I can tell. According to Kathrya, however, most of the guys in our grade would like to get into said pairs of pants.

Ew.

All About Me

This is a powerpoint presentation I made in 4th grade.

1. My Family

-My dad is an architect. He loves to ski.

-My Mom takes care of my sisters and I.

-Genie is my sister who is in second grade.

-Shelby is my sister who is in kindergarten.

-Rufus is a friendly three year old dog.

-Flossie is a shy and sweet six year old dog.

2. My Favorite Special Is Art

-I enjoy painting.

-I like making things out of clay.

-It's not too tiring.

3. My favorite animals are dogs.

-I have 2

-They are really fun

-They are comforting

4. My Hobbies

-Skiing

-Reading

-Bike Riding

-Tubing

-Using the Computer

5. My favorite Book is Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

-I like fantasy a lot

-It really gets into the characters personalities

-It has a lot of funny bits

6. My Favorite Sport is Softball

-It's Fun

-I don't do too much running

-I can practice with my dad

7. Thank you for watching my show!

I hope you enjoyed it.

Speak

is a great book. Genie used it for her summer reading a year or two ago. However, she used my copy, so I'm only now removing the post-its. Here are the better post-its. Note the colossal repetition.

• She sounds like she hates school and can't wait to graduate. I would feel the same way if I didn't have any friends.
• I like how Melinda thinks of funny names for her teachers. I used to do that with my friends at lunch sometimes.
• Melinda sounds lonely. I would be her friend, but she's only a book character.
• I HATE FIELD HOCKEY TOO! --the exclamation point is almost as big as the post-it note--
• Hasn't she done her homework? She seems to have Enough time to do it.
• I forget what potpourri is. What is it? Is it a type of food? --No. It doesn't taste good. The only time anyone ate is was in Man of Honor (or whatever the wedding movie with the hot doctor was called)--
• I think she should join the newspaper for something to do.
• I think Melinda would have fun in a musical.
• I think the idea will work. Something good has to happen in this book.
• Melinda should write the story of her life, quite school, and more to Australia if she hates her life so much.
• That teacher sounds kind of creepy.
• I think Melinda's math skills are somehow going to help her find more friends and solve her problems.
• I don't like algebra, either. It's confusing.
• Poor Melinda. She sounds really and truly lonely. I feel so bad for her.
• It's mean that people talk about Melinda behind her back.
• I like the WOMBATS!!
• I think she needs to see a shrink
• I wonder what Melinda will grow up to be.
• her mom must ba a terrible cook. I feel lucky. My mom is a great cook.
• SOUNDS HILARIOUS
• This book would make a good TV show
• I've never studied fruit before. I sounds like it would be fun to do some experiments with.
• Melinda needs more friends. I feel sad for her.
• I like David. He sounds cool.
• There are tons of words that rhyme with wombad. At, bat, cat, frat, fat, mat, Matt, Mat, flat, Aristocrat...
• I really want to know what happened! when will I find out?
• she should join the basketball team. Melinda is really good and it's a chance to become friends with Nicole again.
• The basketball team does not sound very good.
• I think in the end Melinda will be able to draw/make/carve a perfect tree.
• I wonder what she means by "if" I grow up.
• Dissecting a frog sounds GROSS. Some smells (like dead frogs) make me feel like barfing.
• I'm not surprised Melinda passed out. I would have.
• Modeling sounds like an interesting career.
• I feel bad for Melinda. Her family is so disconnected.
• AH-HA! that's who IT is . ---- ------. Must remember.
• I wonder what happened with ----.
• Poor Mr. Freeman! He ruined his painting!
• I think they should have stuck with the wombats.
• Melinda needs to go into therapy she isn't even trying to live.
• Melinda is going to end up in rehab if she keeps going like this.
• I hate it when teachers wear the same clothes as you
• I think Melinda should try paper mache
• I feel bad for Melinda. Her only friend is blowing her off!
• I liked valentines day in elementary school.
• I wonder who the valentine is from
• I feel so bad for Melinda. She should really get some professional help.
• Why won't Melinda talk?
• I wonder if Melinda will ever talk again.
• I wonder if Melinda is ever going to return to her normal life.
• I wonder why Melinda doesn't want Mr. Freeman to meet her mom.
• Why is Melinda so intent not to talk at all?
• Poor Melinda. No friends. No siblings. No one to talk to.
• I bet Melinda is going to make up with her old friends eventually.
• Melinda should call her parents. They're probably freaking out right now.
• She should get some sleeping medicine.
• I think she is about to tell what happened.
• Maybe she can't sleep because she's pregnant.
• Melinda needs HELP!
• GO DAVID!
• Mr. Neck is sooooooooo MEAN!
• good plan
• Melinda needs a lawyer.
• She should go on a date.
• Poor, poor Melinda.
• She really is sick. I would have thought she was just pretending.
• Melinda should play tennis for something to do.
• Yay Melinda!
• Poor Melinda
• Go Melinda
• I wonder how the story will end.
• Good idea Melinda

Whoopsies

First brush with accidental lack of clothing around the landscape guys.

I had gone swimming earlier, then taken a shower, then a settled down on my bed, comfortably wrapped up in a towel, and began rereading Harry Potter. I was there for quite some time before I heard some noise behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Kerry, who was approaching rapidly. I jumped up and raced into the bathroom, where the shade was still down. I put on a long sweater that was in there, came back out, got clothes, went back to the bathroom, got dressed, and then sat on my bed and resumed reading Harry Potter. While I am aware that this could be easily avoided if I didn't run around in a towel with the shades down, the lighting is much better that way, and the only thing visible out the window is some bushes and the sound.

Also: Hahahahaha

Extended Family Members

After a seemingly endless string of family get-togethers, I've deduced that the best way to deal with someone you don't know is to kiss their cheek and smile happily when they ask how school's going. It's really quite effective.

Beyond that, I'm wayyy to tired to think right now, so I'm leaving you with a ninth grade essay about a poem. (who's excited? I'm excited!!)

In the past week, I have read and reflected on Robert Frost’s poem, Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening repeatedly. In my first reflection, I wrote about Frost’s use of simple words to convey images. These words “that are used frequently in common discourse can paint a clear picture in the readers mind.” However, I mistakenly thought that simple words meant simple meaning. Reading the Donald Hall article changed my mind. For instance, he wrote a thirteen-line paragraph about the word “downy”, considering not just one, but four implications of the word. Before reading that, I hadn’t even considered that a two syllable word could convey so much meaning. It taught me how the words in the poem provided the imagery of the man in the snow.

The first reading delved into words by looking at their meanings, but the second brought each individual letter under a magnifying glass. I had noticed the sounds and rhymes at first, devoting a half a page of my original reflection on the meter and observing that I “[liked] that the rhyming syllable changes with each stanza”, because it “[kept] that poem from sounding repetitive”. However, when reading the Mary Oliver packet, I learned that there was more to the sounds than just the rhyming words. Instead of just consonants and vowels, there were liquids, mutes and aspirates; two words with the same meaning, like rock and stone, cause completely different emotions. With that piece of writing, I looked at the poem almost as a mathematical expression rather than as a piece of writing. Each consonant and vowel brought specific meanings that could be affected by the other letters around it. I took an entirely different viewpoint, and it helped me to understand the poem differently.

Despite the possible overanalyzing of minute parts of the poem, I improved my understanding of theme. In my first reflection, I didn’t even mention it, but after class discussion, I considered it a bit, saying that it was that “one can pause and see beautiful [sights], but one should continue onward”. I still think that somewhat, but have also noticed the ambivalence of the speaker. Hall commented on that, saying that the speaker “attributes one side of his feelings to his horse” and is unsure of his own wants. The speaker would happily stay in the woods, but “[he] [has] promises to keep”. He ends up giving up his enjoyment for the sake of his responsibilities. The ending of the ambivalence with this firm decision made me think instead that the theme was that obligations are more important than enjoyment. I found this frighteningly depressing.

Leaving enjoyment for the sake of what is right is responsible, but it can lead to a very boring life. The sadness and scariness of the concept led me to consider the darker aspects of the poem. After the first class discussion, I saw the word dark as slightly creepy. It is “usually used when describing scarier [settings] like a dark and stormy night” but in this case could have been indicating tranquility. After reading the packet by Hall, I leaned much more toward disturbing. I had “originally thought the poem was simply a peaceful reflection on a quiet wood”, but I was then “wondering much more”. From the second packet, I learned that “dark and deep” are both words “beginning with a mute and ending with a mute”. That is what gives them their firmer, harsher sound. I noticed that, depending on the perspective of a reader the poem could be seen as either incredibly sad or sweet and tranquil,

When I first began my study of the poem, I saw it as a simple, happy bit of writing attached to a meter. As I discussed and read more about it, I saw depth in smaller parts of the poem, and considered its mood and theme.

I'm even too tired to make witty comments about said poem. I have failed you. I am sorry. Oh, so very sorry.

Report Cards

It's been, like, a week, and I want mine, so I called my mom and asked for my code and whatnot, and she gave it to me, but report cards are not yet online. How annoying.

In other news, I have a spent-all-day-reading-in-a-beach-chair tan. My shoulders and chest are burnt, my tummy and legs are somewhat tan, but my back looks as if I never even went to the beach. It's rather comical, really.

Conversations

With Mario, of course (after all, who else would I be talking about)

As I emerged from the library this morning- not carrying my lunchbox, as I had left it sitting under the table, where I would have to retrieve it during lunch, after canvassing my morning classrooms in search of the elusive lunchbox, from beneath the bag of an entirely unaware freshman- I spotted Mario. He standing at the corner before the guidance department, (sorry for the tangency about the lunchbox, but we were reading those Bulwer-Lytton sentences during English today, and it's left me a wee bit loquacious), and talking to somebody (no, I can't remember who).

I looked at him, checking for the brief moment of eye contact that precludes a "Hi" or a wave (I'm always horrible embarrassed when other people don't notice me waving to them, so I do my best to notice others). I can't remember if he spotted me or not (what? it's been a long day! *it's been a long been a long been a long been a long daaaayyy*), but his conversation looked like it was ending, and he was angled in the direction I was going, so I slowed my walking (not that I was moving very fast in the first place, as Gretchen would surely tell you) on the off chance that he went the same way.

Just after I had *ahem* breezed by, he finished talking and started walking. I turned to wait for him and said, "Hi."

"Hi," he responded. "What's up."

"Math test. First period."

"Oh. Me too."

I looked at him, puzzled. "You definitely don't have math period eight. You used to, but now you don't. Right?"

"Oh. Um." He seemed a bit taken aback by my intimate knowledge of his schedule (I only know two or three classes. Honest!) "A.P. test. For calc. Probably hard, but um, fine, really."

"Oh. Well, good luck."

"Yeah, I should be fine. Not that hard really." He started to turn.

"Bye!"

"Bye." He kept walking for a step or two before turning. "Thanks." I think he said for the good luck after that, or something, but the problem with stories that take place before 7:30 a.m. is that I really have trouble remembering the dialogue. Unlike my discussion with Rube, which I transcribed almost word-for-word two days later, these early morning things are far more difficult to keep track of. It's a pity, really.

Happy May

The rest of the dream makes even less sense than the first half, so I think I won't bother with it. Instead, I will treat you to the transcripts of the texted conversations. This one was carried out with Bette, my friend from camp, whilst I was on the train with Mario.

Me: yo

Bette (within ten seconds of my texting her): HII how's life what's up how are you?? ^_^

Me: Betteyyyyyyy! hi! im on a train to nyc with an awkward kid frm school for the science thingy and he is READING THE WALL STREET JOURNAL and its scary! how did you type that fast?

Bette: awww that sucks! ask him a question. like ask him what he though of it. something related to what you guys have done lately, so it doesn't seem totally random, but make it something you wont feel awkwaard talking about or you think he's interested in. i type fast cuz i have an enV2 and it has a QWERTY keyboard ^_^

Me: Well, i told him you type really fast and he was like woah, but im kinda giving up on us ever carrying out conversation and watsupwityu?

Bette: lol nothing much.. internetting and i may go to a friend's house later... but that's about it... sigh* itred! and lol so ask him a question, not a statement, silly! lol

Now, here is a conversation with Mario, via text messages.

Me: Im going 2 take the train, but be forwarned: my gramma is riding in with us

Mario: Haha. thats fine

The End.

Me

We did a metacognition exercise during U.S. history today, and I figured I'd share my words.

Visible on the surface: American, clumsy, teenager, thin, tall, female, brunette, white, student, unathletic, bad eyes, tired.

With further examination: Unitarian Universalist, piano-playing, reader, brain, desires to help others, suppresses childhood fears constantly, afraid of disappointing parents, from New England, love my sisters, terrified that people don't actually care, constantly moralizing, arrogant to a fault about my IQ, yet frighteningly insecure about social things, a geek, a nerd, a liberal, looking for a worthy cause to throw my life behind.

Doing School

Gah! reading Doing School (by Denise Clark Pope) for US History and its got me really stressed out. Basically, the author follows around these kids with high gpas at Faircrest high, which is an insanely overachieving school. Basically, they spend a ton of time doing homework and extracurriculars and have no lives.

The problem with it is that it is wayyy to similar to my life. My school sounds a lot like Faircrest, and I'm too much like the kids in it. I don't mean to be- it's just the way I am.

I was born with the ability to read quickly, test well, and remember easily. I'm not sure how much help it'll be in the real world, but its a blessing in high school.

I didn't originally set out to get good grades, but just by doing my homework and some minimal studying, I do. And unfortunately, I love to learn and can't stand a boring class, so I'm taking four honors courses and one that's kind of an independent study, plus art, music theory, and gym. I love my classes when I'm in them; I just hate the homework.

The culture in all the tough courses is so inhibitive. A lot of kids are constantly stressing over grades and college and whatnot, and most of my friends think that a good school is necessary for a good life. I know that its not, and I know I want to be independent and happy, but I don't know how to pull myself away. Everything will just keep chugging along until I'm sitting at a lab bench all day and going home to an empty, too small apartment. It's terrifying. I'd love to be in that lab someday, but I'm young; I need happiness, passions, love, friends.

Maybe I'll take a gap year and pull myself away from it all; I could do some volunteer work, play piano, paint, learn some grammatical links other than semicolons.

It'll be good.

I'll work on that. I'll keep at it through high school, but remember that there's more long-term value in the world outside the classroom.

I refuse to be sucked in.