Tired Complaints

Gedit doesn't work with this version of OS X. Spaces—pretty much my favorite feature of my desktop—doesn't work with this version of OS X. If my sister's computer didn't come with an install disk, I'm going to attempt to get this baby to revert back to whatever the four-year-old version of OS X is called, because this is infuriating. I don't fucking care about intuitive operating systems—my laptop is not an iphone. I do not want my laptop to be an iphone, I want my laptop to be a laptop. I like some of the funcitonality—being able to do all those multitouch gestures with the trackpad is nice—but from what I've seen so far, even getting ubuntu to run on this machine is going to be a trial.

Shelby's being annoying again. She lost her ipod ages ago, refuses to pay to get a new one, and is bugging me to use mine. Well, would be bugging me—I gave her a very curt “no”, and she fortunately decided not to pursue the subject, so I get to continue to be angry here.

Greg's probably going to text me immediately telling me to switch to Windows. I'm going to install it—just need to decide how big to make the partition. I have 750 GB to work with, just need to figure out the proper allocations. This is going to turn into a triple booted machine, I think. This fucking Lion thing is just annoying me too much. Although maybe I'll cave and pay the $20 for the downgraded version...all I know is that I want more customization than exists here. I want to be able to pull up an easily navigable display of all my windows with a key stroke, not the godawful application stacks I'm currently getting. I also want Spaces back. If I use four virtual desktops on my computer at home—which is at least twice the size of this one—than I bloody well need that many on a screen that is a quarter of the size. Currently, all my windows are piling up, and I've only even got four open.

I'm used to being able to have full control over my computer. Maybe that's just the familiarity with an operating system that I've gained over four years of use—maybe given sufficient time, I'd become familiar with Lion, and be able to do all those fancy schmancy tricks for desktop utilization. But right now, I don't have the internet access to search (fucking planes, charging for internet...although this one actually doesn't have wifi. Shelby keeps going on about how I'm “sooooo attached” to my laptop, but that's not accurate. I'm attached to the internet...one of these days I'm going to have to buy a droid, just to complete the image).

Ridiculous, isn't it. I decide to buy the Macbook Pro because I'm so sick of Windows that I want OS X (summerbook editing can do that to a girl), then I get OS X and decide it's not to my liking, so I'm likely going to end up on Linux anyways. Ah, well. I like linux quite a bit, and I'm going to like being able to have something a little more malleable to work with. Plus the macbook is still shiny, and the keyboard is backlit and the touchpad is a bit nicer (I think) than I would have gotten with the toshiba. Not to mention the warranty and whatnot, though I'm not sure how helpful that is if I start messing around with my operating system.

It is what it is, I guess. Not much to be done about it, not really, not much can be done beyond complaining. I love the feel of the Mac, I just really, really dislike the new operating system. I really need to get my hands on the previous one, or I need to find someone who knows how to make this one act like the previous one...or I'll install some linux distro that behaves like the previous one. That's probably the most likely.

I'll just go on complaining, though. It's not like anyone really minds. Well, if anyone really does mind, it's not like I'm forcing them to read...seriously, I kept writing this baby even when I thought no one was reading it, and then I have four people tell me they have been. If that doesn't make a girl feel loved, I really don't know what would.

Sheer Idiocy

Crazy people are crazy. I really wish I remembered what the one in the bathroom was going on about. She walked in, smiled at me, and then started going on about how desperately she'd needed to wash her hands. I ignored her and went into a stall. While I was there, another woman walked in, and Crazy started babbling on about how she was the devotee of some book. This book had taught her to go outside her body, and she'd been all over the universe, to the stars. It was awesome, and she just wanted to tell us about it. I can't remember the name of the author or the book, now, but Crazy kept repeating it.

It was utterly bizarre--at least it seemed that way to me, but I'm not accustomed to crazy people. My general idea of a crazy person is any Republican presidential candidate.

I'm flying away from Hawaii tomorrow. Getting home Monday evening. I really wish we'd just gone for the two marathon flights--I want to be done.

Heebie Jeebies

We left the hotel we'd been staying at this morning and drove to Volcano National Park. The weather was cold and rainy--it's apparently like that all the time there. The volcano was pretty neat, particularly after dark when we could see it glowing, but I'd really like to be there with someone who actually knows what they're talking about as far as the geology goes. As it is right now, it's rather like watching a movie that happens to be right in front of you--there's not interaction, and beyond the whole improved visibility thing (which barely exists in my case, as rain + glasses != improved visibility). I'd like to make the trip with a geology geek and be able to listen to them spout off all the exciting facts about the place.

Later, we drove around more of the island to the bed and breakfast we're staying at for the next two nights. I'd copied down directions from google maps before we left the hotel. The directions mentioned that we would be using "condition restricted roads," but I'm from New England, and when I see "condition restricted roads" I think "snow." And it's summer, so there's no snow, so it wouldn't be a problem (the fact that we're in Hawaii and there is never any snow didn't occur to me). As it turns out, they weren't closed due to these restrictions--but we were sent down winding backroad after winding backroad, including a four mile stretch of dirt road where the turn at the end--to a different, unmarked dirt road--was identified solely by the fact that our car's mile marker had changed by the amount that it should have. Then, about a mile later, the dirt path changed abruptly to a paved single-lane road, and a small sign pointed the way to the inn.

When we arrived, there was a well-lit "Welcome" sign that had our names underneath the names of the rooms we had booked (each room had the last name of the resident written in expo marker underneath). We were still somewhat confused, though--after all, what kind of hotel wouldn't require you to check in?--so we walked around looking for someone to check in with. We managed to end up in the kitchen of the people who run the place; we said "oh, we wanted to check in," and they looked at us like we were completely insane.

"Didn't you see the Welcome Board?" they asked.

"Yes, we did," but the board didn't say anything about going directly to ones' room.

The keys had been left in the doors for us, and we were apparently just supposed to go right in and make ourselves at home, information be damned. When we got to the building we were actually staying in--called the Pagoda, or something like that--there was a sign directing us to take off our shoes before entering, and a considerable number of shoes were already outside.

It was completely nuts. Sure, this is in the middle of nowhere, but people just leaving their stuff around (there's no safe in the room, naturally), and leaving the rooms unlocked, and just dropping one's shoes with no compunction for whether or not the other guests decide they look like fair game--maybe I've spent too much time compulsively locking my bike up, or just too much time in Boston and not enough in Hicksville--but it just seems crazy to me. I have no idea what I'm going to do with my laptop tomorrow (probably bury it in my suitcase so it's unobtrusive (did I mention that there aren't enough shelves to actually unpack?)), but I'm way to paranoid for this place. I keep expecting them to break out into new age "feel the healing power of the waterfall" stuff (they haven't yet, thank goodness, but one never knows). It gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Speaking of creepiness, Cammie posted a fun zombie apocalypse chain thingy. As far as I go, my sidekick is Nyx (though I strongly suspect that, in actuality, she would be the one doing the ass-kicking and I'd be the one standing on the sidelines and flipping out). Vanessa will be providing the heavy weapons (I'm pretty sure she wouldn't actually do that, but it'd be pretty fucking awesome if she did (or "ducking awesome", as my phone would say)). Gopika is the idiot who survives (ironic, given that I count her among the most intelligent people I know). Hyunmi is the sniper (yeah, I can't really see that happening...). Jared is the one who loses it (yeah, gotta say I could see him in any of the "kill the zombies!" roles much more than I see him in this one). Zsa is the brains (valid) and Zorah is the first to die ( =( ). Quite the learning experience, wasn't this?

Obnoxiously Large Cats

I'm still not used to the new OS. I suspect that I'll eventually become so accustomed to it that switching to the old one will be a hassle--maybe I'll even install Lion on my desktop, though I strongly suspect that I'm too much of a cheapskate--but right now the transition is frustrating. I don't want a more intuitive OS, I want the one that I'm used to. Honestly, ubuntu would probably have less of a learning curve for me right now, but this is what I've got, and I'm not sure I want to mess up another computer's hard drive with failed partitions. Maybe I'll try to get James to help me partition it when we get to school...although I think he's not used to Macs. There goes my tech help...well, there goes my already known tech help. This is [college]. If I can't find someone to help me with my computer, I am definitely doing something wrong.

Okay, I need to pack now. These posts have been lame, but at least I'm writing something. Well, I'll just keep telling myself that. Maybe eventually it'll turn true.

Zippadeedooda

We flew from Maui to the big island (The Big Island?) today, which was a flight only slightly longer than the one I took from LA to Santa Barbara a week ago. There's a lot of volcanic rock here. At least, I think that's what it is. I can't imagine what else could cover everything the eye can see (except the ocean) in crumbling darkness.

Shelby's in the shower, but we're supposed to go to dinner at 6:45. This is inconvenient, especially considering I just exercised (be impressed) and am vaguely sweaty (okay, maybe I could have done with a little bit more on the exercise front, but at least it's better than nothing).

I can't get over how easy this keyboard types. I mean, in theory, the keyboard on my desktop should be the same, but this just feels so much smoother. Maybe I just got too used to the keyboards in the Athena clusters--but I'll be back in those soon enough, so I suppose it all works out.

I really need to figure out how to get ahold of the next Wheel of Time book while I'm still here, because I really don't want to think about getting through the six hour plane ride to San Francisco without one. We're stuck in some far-off corner of resortyness, though, and I'm not sure what the major booksellers are our here anyways. I'm going to have to come up with some more creative googling. Just because there's not Barnes and Nobles doesn't mean there's no anything...right?

Nyan nyan nyan

Right before I woke up this morning, I dreamt that I was leaving for college. But, for some reason, the place I was leaving looked exactly like MIT (minus the fact that the dorm was more 'generic dorm' than 'Simmons hall'). I was looking for Cammie and Kathrya and Nyx to say goodbye to them, and Dad was waiting for me. I'd already said goodbye to Julie, as well as some random small child who was somehow someone else I was going to miss. Jared, for whatever reason, was walking with me the entire time, and I knew I wasn't going to actually say goodbye to him until Dad and I pulled away in the car.

Then I woke up. Other than the obvious--i.e. I'm going to be leaving behind my own childhood--I'm not sure there's anything deeply symbolic, but I did remember the damn thing.

In other news, I can list off the top of my head everything I've eaten since waking. I'm not sure whether that worries me, but I'm fairly certain that it should. I swam in the waves, today; they're a lot bigger than the ones at home. I had some fun attempts at body surfing and a generally good time. I also finished Lord of Chaos, which means that I'll probably be starting in on book seven tonight. Isam would be proud.

Vacation, Take One

Hawaii as a state seems lovely. The geography rather absurd--many changes over very small distances--but pretty darn cool. I need to figure out if the RSI 2010 Rickoid whose nickname I forget (I don't dare attempt to open googledocs and access my spreadsheet on the tenuous thread that is my current internet connection). I miss my Ricklings, though. I'm a bit surprised at the volume of my post-RSI depression---for some reason I'd thought it wouldn't be as bad this year. I'd talked with Jared about it, and we'd both agreed that this year we weren't as emotionally involved and would hardly be upset at all.

The amount of crying I did the last day definitely belied that statement, as did the fact that I was too depressed to sleep the following night (so many empty rooms...).

My internet connection is shit. This is incredibly frustrating. I always forget how dependent I am on high-speed wifi until I no longer have it.

That said, my new macbook pro is phenomenally shiny, as I demonstrated for everyone in a recent bedcheck by holding it and its built-in webcam up to a mirror. So much shiny. Lots and lots of shiny. I really need to get it a hard shell to protect it from scratches. And maybe a plastic sheet for the screen, and definitely a keyboard cover. If this baby is going to get me through the next four years, I need to be nice to it from day one.

In other news, I'm too lazy to unpack and my clothing is accumulating. Snorkeling was fun and I saw a shark. I continue to believe that snorkeling should be spelled snorkling. I'm really hungry (this whole 'dieting' thing doesn't agree with me, but I'm pretty sure that just plain 'eating healthy' is not going to make me drop the 10 lbs I picked up, and I really don't want to continue to have the weird gut I currently have going). The Wheel of Time is awesome. Hawaii is pretty. I want dinner. Life is good.

Minor Happenings

This evening, I went on an event that resembled a date with our (not so) dear friend Peter. It was boring and not really worth much of the worry that lead up to it. On the plus side, I've emerged with renewed confidence (I can do better!) as well as improved comfort in my independence (I'd have had more fun by myself or with a friend!). Great success!

In other news, we're beginning a new game of mafia. I can say no more without risking death by beheading from Frank, our beloved overlord, so that is all I can reveal with regards to that specific category.

Last night's girly sleepover was quite fun and extremely enjoyable. Organic soda is delicious. Air mattresses are comfy. The companionship of Julie, Cammie, and Gretchen is wonderful.

Why is it that a bad date makes me so happy? More importantly, is this analysis worth performing? Probably not.

I also have a fiction assignment due Tuesday. I have to fictionalize the following memoir and hand it in:

Last summer, on August 2^nd, Annie died. She was six years old. She was the child of my father’s stepsister, but I’d known her for all of her six years. I could remember, way back when, visiting her family after she’d just been born, looking at this teeny tiny baby and marveling at how any human being could be that small.

She’d died of a brain hemorrhage. It was bizarre, completely uncontrollable, completely incapable of being healed. There was nothing we could do, though, and I’d never seen death before, never been to a funeral. I hadn’t reached the place where I am now—I suppose it takes a second death for that.

But, regardless, my family had splurged on airline tickets to Colorado months before, flying away for the first time in two nearly two years.

We didn’t want Shelby to have to go to the funeral—Shelby, my baby sister, who already thinks that she’s psychic and is about as emotionally overwhelmed as it’s possible to be already. So my parents stayed for the funeral, and they sent my sisters and I jetting off across the country. The three of us spent a week in a house by ourselves, learning independence, messing up the cooking, wandering off, looking for our own sources of closure. Sometimes, the funeral doesn’t help.

Things Found While Cleaning My Room

• Five buckeyballs
• My RSI Summerbook
• The block of wood I cut when first learning to use a table saw (note: this was two weeks ago)
• Money
• More money
• Saudi Arabian money
• JSHS Pen
• A broken watch
• My Princeton Preview lanyard, which I'm keeping for the summer because it is very high quality.
• A "This is what a feminist looks like" bumper sticker
• A sexy silver lanyard I have no recollection of previously seeing
• 5 towels in various stages of dirtiness
• The bookmark I got for buying a prom ticket 
• 70 more buckeyballs
• Approximately 600 tampons (note: hyperbole)
• My MIT CPW folder (MIT! <3 <3 <3)
• This was the point at which I became fed up and threw everything remaining into one large bin.

In other news, I went prom dress shopping and came home with two new pairs of shorts and some chocolates for my beloved mother, but no prom dress. Sweet success!

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.

Things I Love

Zsa claims (probably rightly) that she could very easily make a list of 1,000 things that make me happy.

One of these things is the adorable french exchange student (graduate, I think) in my lab, who speaks with a heavy accent and is confused by English keyboards, but is still willing to run a computer program to find various Gibbs energies for me, and then spend at least a minute typing "good luck!" into the email he sends me.

I love science.

Mentorship is mostly worked out

which is quite nice. Aside from that, we have a Nobel Laureate speaking tonight, which is somewhat unbelievable but is sure to be awesome. Also, tonight (after the speaker) is Girl's Night, which consists of the 23 girls (because, of course, we only have 23 (for all interested parties, that means that there is a 2:1 ratio of guys to girls (also, there is a wonderfully large number of tall Asian guys (insert shifty eyes here))) and can fit in one room) sitting and doing fun activities such as 'gossiping about boys.' I will continue with my current gossip method, which is to mention how easy on the eyes Donny is, which everyone then agrees to, and then we have a lovely bonding moment. It's really quite fun.

Stupid emacs. I keep trying to save with ctrl-x ctrl-s because that's how you save on emacs. My personal opinion of this is that emacs is a complete and utter butthead, because, seriously, that is far, far too many buttons to perform such a delightfully simple action.

Now I'm trying to remember what I did last night. It's remarkable how much of a blur my life has become. We had international night, in which people from other countries made food and then talked about their homelands. I, for my part, made chocolate chip cookies (pure American goodness) with the help of three of my fellow Americans (Tem, Jasmine, and Vanessa).

Later on, after bedcheck, which was spent with three other people trying to arrange ourselves in such a way that we could lie on a single mattress without risking physical contact, Miles took a group of us outside to play with a boomerang.

I would give more details, but I need to go get ready for that formal-wear lecture. Suffice to say we spent most of the time throwing the boomerang, then ducking because it was dark, we couldn't see, and boomerangs have an awful habit of coming back.

I have computer time

and, since I'm not particularly good at taking naps, I've elected to write you a post.

I am at RSI. I should be very, very tired, but, as I just had an extremely delicious coffee, I am not. 'Tis lovely. Absolutely splendiferous. I wonder how long it will be until my sleeping patterns adjust. My roommate is named Leila, and she has been brought in all the way from Catalonia, and even though she speaks Catalan natively, she's better at Spanish than English, so she doesn't mind my feeble attempts at practicing. She studies some sort of astronomy, and she has this big paper with lots of fancy-schmancy math in it that I understand only bits and pieces of (apparently there is far more to Keplar's law than just, you know, Keplar's law).

When I first got here, I was very, very afraid of all of the people, because, as most of you are aware, I really really really really really do not like crowds. However, I'm good with small groups, so I've mostly been starting small and then working my way up, which has been working alright, since I've learned a lot of names (and people talk to me! It's quite exciting.)

Another highlight was the battle in the ballpit. Because, you know, we have a ballpit. It. Is. AWESOME. I keep jumping into it somewhat randomly, because it really is extremely fun, but last night we got a good group going, and we had the plastic equivalent of a snowball fight. My team lost, but I did a decent job of weakly chuckign the things before I discovered that it was much more effective to pretend that I was in a pool and 'splash.'

Anyways, this morning, I had my first day of classes. I am taking chemistry and biology. The bio, unsurprisingly, is fairly easy. The chem, which I did not sign up for, is far over my head. I had to get someone to explain electronegativity to me, which did help, but I am still, overall, somewhat confuzzled by the idea. At the very least, my moaning "I have taken exactly 6 weeks of chemistry and I DON'T GET IT" has caused a few people to laugh, although I'm not sure if it's just because my complete inadequacy is making them uncomfortable.

Hopefully I will never need to find out.

The Good and the Bad

I had to leave the taping early today to come home, which was bad, as I missed the later games. However, as a result, I took the subway by myself for the first time, which went well, and the train by myself as well.

I got to the station a couple of minutes early, boarded the train, and began walking towards the back in search of a window seat. Oddly, I ran into Charlotte, who was going home from her job shadow day. We talked briefly, then I left because I "needed to do work." (Let the record show that I do this every time I get on the train, and yet the work never gets done). I stepped out of the train, walked down a few more cabs, then stepped back on and moved forwards through the doors, ignoring the platform. About two cabs in, I saw an empty seat. I moved towards it and sat moments before a man coming from the other direction could. I say that the seat was mine, as I definitely spotted it first, so this was fair. However, he didn't put up a fight, so this crucial detail is irrelevant.

I put my bag on the set next to me and focused upon looking intimidating, trying to retain my seat. The first couple of people who walked by sat elsewhere. The next asked, perfectly politely, if the seat was free. I said yes and moved my bag; he stowed his and sat down. I had my earbuds in, so I wasn't particularly worried about needing to communicate.

However, my seat companion turned out to be rather talkative. Before leaving Manhattan, I had given up on my ipod and pulled out my copy of The Elegant Universe, as it is easier to drift in and out of conversation while reading than while listening to music. I ended up, naturally, not reading the book.

Talking to stranger-boy, whose name was not revealed until right before he left, was quite comforting. It's nice to know that I can talk to someone I've never met without any of the difficulties I've come to associate with talking with people I've never met. For this association, I blame Mario, as he somehow managed to convince me that I was incapable of normal conversations using his wily ways (in other words, his inability to carry a conversation).

Regardless, stranger-boy was quite nice to talk to. We will ignore the fact that I generally enjoy talking to cute boys (which he was/is) in this analysis. We managed to cover sea animals, jellyfish, Michael Jackson, the ethics of sneaking free passage on the train, his college, college in general, some topics in science, the relative enjoyability of stay at home jobs, and issues with cell phones.

He also told an extremely delightful story that was, overall, a comedy of errors, to the point where, if he hadn't provided quite so many supporting details, I would have believed it untrue. The gist of it is that stranger-boy had, uncharacteristically, decided to be generous to a hobo who claimed he needed money for gas. However, he didn't have any money with him, so he brought the hobo back to his dorm, told him to wait outside, and went in to get twenty bucks. Then, for reasons that were later unrecountable, he elected to go check his mail. However, he was carrying a bag of juggling supplies, including a considerable number of juggling knives, so put the bag down to go downstairs. When he was halfway through the mail, he realized that the dorm had a policy against unattended bags, so he went upstairs to attend to his bag. He got there just as the security officer was going to open the bag, but, in his haste to stop him, he dropped his other bag, which he was holding. This bag, unfortunately, held a bottle of wine which he, at age 20, shouldn't have had in the first place. Said bottle shattered upon contact with the ground. He managed to get out of discussing the wine by giving the security officer assurance that he would clean it. He responded that "he just needed to pay the man on the street," which he immediately realized sounded sketchy.

Anyways, funny story. At least I got something out of missing the last competition round.

Well, Ginny covered ride there

here, so I figured I'd take care of the next bit.

Despite the tardiness of three of the eight paperclips, we still arrived at the high school early, and, due to the absurdly tight arrival schedule, waited for about five minutes outside of the parking lot before getting dropped off.

As we drove over, a pair of decidedly math-geek looking boys were playing frisbee on the tennis courts. Mario and Irving derided their skill. While I can accept that Mario is probably decent as frisbee, since he does seem to be relatively athletic, as far as math team people go, I highly doubt that Irving could have done much better.

Regardless, we walked into the school to a separate area from Mr. Booth, so we had to take a few minutes to make extra certain that everybody was equipped with a TI-84 for the team round (which was completely useless, as I don't think I even touched mine) and hear a last minute "down with Treeburg" reminder before we filed off to the cafeteria.

I went to the bathroom soon after arriving, bringing Ginny along with me. This detail is not relevant at this point in the story, but it is foreshadowing. Note the foreshadowing.

Moving along. The four present members of the dream team sat on one side of out little section of bleachers, and we sat on the other. Our group, consisting of Ginny, Micro, Argon and I, discussed the relative visible nerdiness of the various students. For instance, the girl who was clad entirely in purple, including a too-tight-weirdly-cut-oddly-long purple dress, leggings of the same shade and purple sneakers: nerdy. Blonde guy in cargos with a long blonde ponytail: nerdy. Short guy doing handstands without tucking his shirt: very nerdy. Tall, otherwise reasonable looking guy wearing a t-shirt that said "I failed the Turing test": nerdy. Team of guys wearing sunglasses like Nia's normal ones and carrying a boombox: trying too hard to not be nerdy, but failing when they turned on the boombox at a not ear-shattering volume.

There was then a supremely horrific degree of disorganization of us trying to find our rooms, but we did eventually do so. I met a girl from my cousin's hometown who looked extremely not nerdy, but I have a feeling that this is more because she is black, and my image of a nerd is either asian or white or occasionally indian, than anything else. Midway through the first round, when "TWO MINUTES" was called (I realize that that is technically not midway. Forgive me), I jumped and said "oh my god," then mentally congratulated myself for not swearing, although I'm fairly certain that I did manage to get a big fat 0 on that round, unfortunately. Honestly, I would feel so much more secure with myself if I'd just gotten that one three-point negative sign....

Ah, well, c'est la vie. I need to get back to calculus. Ginny, if you want to continue this, please do.

Particle Physics Careens Towards Boringness

I went to SHP today and, for the most part, completely ignored my class. I tried to pay attention, I really did, but then I decided to take a break to do a math problem, and by the time I was paying attention, the lecture had advanced so much that I no longer could follow it.

Whoops.

The train ride there was relatively boring. It was just Helga, Archie and I. I sat between them, and we managed a little bit of conversation before Helga pulled out her book, I untangled my ipod, and Archie fell asleep. At one point, Archie actually started to snore. I could hear him through the music, so I started cracking up. Helga laughed a bit before returning to her book, which was for English and, according to her, incredibly boring.

Interestingly, both Helga and Archie are looking forward to the end of SHP, whereas I am dreading it. How utterly fascinating, how different people can experience some of the same events and have such entirely different reactions.

I had originally planned to meet up with Rube for Mariokarting, but he had done badly in something and requested a raincheck (Allana was actually confused by the whole thing, which is kind of odd, but, hey, I get by). I texted Helga when there were about 10 minutes left in class to ask where to meet, and she and Ariadne were already outside, so I met them there.

Archie was still in class, they had no clue about Mario, but Ariadne had texted him, so he, of course, called me. To be perfectly honest, I'm still not following that logic.

We as a group had a horrifically large number of awkward silences. It's really remarkable how it's easier to avoid them when with just one other person than when with four. I think that with one person, you feel pressure to actually carry on the conversation, but when you have a lot, you typically let someone else handle it, and when nobody does, it just kind of dies.

I'm going to relate a couple of conversations, but be aware that both are interspersed with a considerable number of unpredictable and unnecessary pauses.

Archie: Middle schoolers are nasty.

Mario: Sorry, what?

Tea: He doesn't like middle schoolers. What was the phrase you used?

Archie: They're awful.

Mario: To who? Us? Each other?

Archie: Everybody.

Tea: This is true.

Helga: Middle schoolers are just nasty. I mean, looking back at it, people were so mean.

Tea: It makes high school look better in comparison.

Ariadne: I hate high school.

Tea: Really?

Ariadne: Yup.

Helga: It's so short, though.

Tea and Ariadne: But it feels like forever.

Helga: Really? It seems like it's only just started.

Archie: Agreed.

Conversation Two:

Ariadne: So, where do you want to go to school? Like, a city or a country?

Tea: I don't know. Somewhere other than here.

Archie: Not a suburb.

Helga: Definitely not a suburb.

Tea: How would you define school suburb, then?

Ariadne: Yale.

Tea: I believe New Haven is a city.

End Conversation

You may have noticed Mario's lack of participation. This stems from the fact that I'd given him my math packet #4 and requested help, and he had been staring at factoring problems (no writing implement, just staring) for about twenty minutes. I then spent the entire forty minutes in which we were standing because the entire train was packed, passing him various math problems, watching him stare at them, and then listening to his explanations.

Once some seats freed up, we moved over there and spent the remainder of the trip trying to determine the number of possible ten-unit strips that could be created out of green three-unit rectangles and red one-units. We had to do out all of the possibilities, and it took a ridiculously long period of time, but we eventually arrived at the correct answer, with minimal weirdness on his part (ex: "It's odd that we arrive at the same conclusions at the same time." "What?" "Never mind." "Sure. Where did you get that 6 from again?" "I divided twelve by two." "Oh, right. That makes sense.").

We had just moved onto the collinear candles when Helga had the decency to remind us that we were at our town's stop, so we disembarked.

Awkward Phone Conversation

"Tea," said Mom. "Could you call Libby for me? I need to tell her we're going to be there in an hour."

Libby is Mom's friend from college. She is also the mother of Donal, the boy who looked exactly like Nick Jonas until he shaved all his hair off. He did look better with a bit more hair, but it came off because he told a friend with one of those awful semi-pubescent kind-of-beards that if he shaved the beard, Donal would shave the skull, so I have to credit Donal with a certain amount of altruism, as one less badly bearded boy breeds a better world. Her daughter, Alba, is only eleven but already has bigger feet than me. Her husband is named Sherman. They live near Boston, so we were spending the night there.

"Yeah, sure."

"Great." Mom dialed and passed the phone to me.

"Hi," said a male voice.

"Oh, hello, it's Tea and [Tea's Mom]," I said to the voice. "It's Sherman," I told Mom.

"Oh, tell him we'll be there in an hour," said Mom, at the exact same time Sherman said, "No, it's Donal."

I started talking. "Oh, well, I heard I guy, so I assumed-"

"Yeah, I'm not my Da-"

"Sorry. I just got confused and thought that-"

"Tell him we'll be there are 4:40!" said Mom.

"It's not Sherman, it's Donal!"

"Tell him anyways!"

"Okay! Donal, our GPS is forecasting an estimated arrival time of 4:37."

"Alright."

"Yeah."

"Well, we're at home."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

"I kind of figured you were at home, since this is the home phone."

"Well, we'll still be here."

"Okay. Um. Bye."

"Bye."

We both hung up.

Time Travel

"Mr. Mubble?"

"Yes, Umber?"

"Does the Hubble telescope see back in time?"

"What?"

"Is it like a time machine? Cause you said it can see all the way back to the big bang."

"No, it's not a time machine."

"But, like, if you turned it on Earth, wouldn't you see stuff that already happened."

"No. Well, yes, but not very long ago."

"So, could you use it to look at historical events and see what actually happened?"

"No. The delay is whatever the speed of light is, so you'd only see back a few milliseconds. For instance, right now you're, what, ten feet away from me. Now, let's say you pass out riiiiigggghhht NOW."

"Huh?"

"Now, you're passed out, but I don't see it right away."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"You're not going to just stand there while I'm on the floor."

"Well, not for very long. It takes something like three nanoseconds for the image of you falling to reach me, so there's a delay. If you pass out on the moon, the delay is longer. If you pass out on the sun, it's 7 minutes."

"Because if she's on the sun, all she's going to do is pass out," I muttered, forgetting momentarily that the sun is gaseous and you can't truly be 'on' it.

"Wait, so if I took Hubble to, like, Pluto, then would I see stuff that already happened?"

"Yes, but you won't see anything from before your telescope took off."

"Oh. Okay."

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!

Lab Partner

This takes place last weekend, after class ended. Siya, the teacher, dismissed everyone, and the other eleven kids raced towards the door. I, per usual, had to pack up my bag. Rube, my lab partner, had already slung his backpack over his shoulder and started out.

"Ahh! Rube, wait for me," I called.

"Okay, okay."

I resumed packing my bag before glancing over my shoulder at him. His head was all of a foot behind me, and I, expecting him further back, promptly panicked. "Eeep! too close."

He moved over to my other side, granting me a few more inches of space. "Better?"

"Much." We walked out the door and down the hall to the elevator, following another sophomore whom I've never actually heard talk. Right when the doors started to close, we heard running footsteps and a yelled, "wait!"

Quiet boy reached for the *door open* button, but not fast enough. The door closed, and he said "Damnit," but entirely without passion, and resumed staring silently at the door. I found the entire situation hysterical and began giggling madly, falling back against the wall of the elevator.

We reached the bottom, got out, and kept talking. Rube made some relation of the situation to someone named Optimus Prime.

"Who's that? Did he invent prime numbers or something?" I asked.

"No," Rube said, looking at me concernedly.

"So he's a Roman emperor then?"

"No..."

I frowned. "I give up."

"It's a Transformer!"

"A what?"

"A robot in disguise. How do you not know the names of the transformers?"

"I didn't watch transformers. I watched Totally Spies."

"Totally Spies? How is that a show?"

"It's a bunch of girls who do spy stuff and go shopping."

"Well, that makes sense," Rube said sarcastically.

"It's not as if they make any more sense than transforming robots."

At this point, the guy who had missed the elevator caught up. He glared at us. "Douchebags."

"Um, sorry?" Before we could finish filling him in on the conversation, he broke off in another direction and my cell rang, playing Mozart. I answered it, unsurprised that Sean was on the other end.

Rube ignored the interruption. "Is that seriously your ringtone? Hah!"

"Shut up! No, Sean, not you! I can't hear you anyways. What?" I asked. Rube pulled a weird face. "Stop it! No, Sean, not you. We're by this big flag on a stick. It's like, really tall."

"Flaaaahhhg-pole" Rube said, exaggeratedly.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, whatever, it's a flagpole. And there's, like this building."

"Liii-braar-yyy," Rube helpfully supplied.

"The library. No, not the actual library, the one that says it is but isn't."

"Viiiiisiiiiitooor's center"

"It's definitely not a visitors center! Wait, no, Sean, not you, I can't really hear right now-" Rube was laughing "-but I'll meet you at the fountains, okay? Okay, okay, bye."

Rube was in hysterics. "You didn't even let him respond. You're just like, 'Okay, okay, bye!'"

I shrugged. "He'll find me. Then I'll be stuck on a train with him for an hour." I gave my monologue about how annoyingly awkward the train rides always are, and by that point, we had walked past the fountain, over to one entrance, turned around and gone to the other entrance, when I said I really should go to the fountain, so Rube said "okay," and we both turned around and walked back towards it.

His response to my future awkwardness was to quote a Simpsons episode in which the family is seated with someone they don't particularly want to talk to. A basic transcript below:

*silence*

-I wonder what speed the fan is set at-

-wanna guess?-

-no-

*silence*

someone looks at the switch and says -it's on medium-

*silence*

-I would have guessed low-

-Well, you would have guessed wrong-

-oh-

*silence*

Then Sean showed up, Rube left, and we all lived happily ever after.