Holy crap, I've missed TEN WHOLE DAYS of blogging. I am a FAILURE at life.
If it means anything, and if you'll accept my apology, I have been incredibly busy lately. The amount of homework I'm receiving is simply ridiculous. I'm a SENIOR, dang it.
Needless to say, I should be writing my English essay right now. I just thought that between essays, I could update this dusty old thing and get that outta the way.
Terribly sorry for the lack of interesting material. It's been that kind of month.
I leave you now with the words to "Ubi Caritas", the best song I was ever forced to sing for All-Region Choir.
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor.
Exultemus, et in ipso iucundemur.
Timeamus, et amemus Deum vivum.
Et ex corde diligamus nos sincero.
Where charity and love are, God is there.
Christ's love has gathered us into one.
Let us rejoice and be pleased in Him.
Let us fear, and let us love the living God.
And may we love each other with a sincere heart.
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur:
Ne nos mente dividamur, caveamus.
Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites.
Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus.
Where charity and love are, God is there.
As we are gathered into one body,
Beware, lest we be divided in mind.
Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease,
And may Christ our God be in our midst.
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Simul quoque cum beatis videamus,
Glorianter vultum tuum, Christe Deus:
Gaudium quod est immensum, atque probum,
Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.
Where charity and love are, God is there.
And may we with the saints also,
See Thy face in glory, O Christ our God:
The joy that is immense and good,
Unto the ages through infinite ages. Amen.
30 August 2009
20 August 2009
overwhelmed.
Is it bad that I'm already feeling stressed about school, and I've only been to three days of it so far?
I've got five homework assignments, and so far, I have chewed my way through three of them. The remaining two are essays, so I'm not incredibly worried.
I guess I could give you a class analysis/breakdown/report/update?
First hour, I have AP Spanish V with Señora Kirkconnell. From the handful of times I've attended her class, I can already tell that it's going to be a little bit difficult and a lot of fun. The class is actually taught primarily in Spanish. We've used very little English thusfar, and we've only had one official day of real class. Sadly, this detail is what's making two of my near and dear friends quit AP Spanish. LOSERS. We took a placement test to see how our Spanish skills are doing, and I'm embarrassed to say that I was quite rusty after the summer, and probably bombed the practise test. I couldn't remember the difference between the indicative and the infinitive; that was pretty much my only big trip-up. That, and not remembering how to conjugate "ser" or "salir"...I hate -ir and -er verbs! But I am definitely looking forward to learning more Spanish. I can definitely increase my fluency if I work hard enough; I've been listening to the prescribed Spanish podcasts on iTunes most of the morning, and I'm pleased to say that I've been catching on!
Second hour, I have Human Behaviours and Disorders with Mr. England. First of all, I really like Mr. England. His sense of humour is dry, but blunt. I think he's hilarious. He's the kind of guy who'll tell you straight up if he doesn't give a damn about something. And he has told us this. Multiple times. The fun of this class is enhanced by how easy/interesting it's going to be, and by the two guyfriends I have in my class. We spent our entire first day talking to Mr. England about our future plans and our goals and dreams. It was neat to hear what kinds of different career paths my peers will be taking. I'm looking forward to a very amusing year...full of Mr. England's military stories, medical stories, and personal stories about his cat.
Third hour, I have AP English IV with Mr. Davis. It seems as though all of my male teachers have their own distinct sense of humour. I can't really describe Mr. Davis's. I'm happy to say that he is a known-to-be-difficult grader, as far as essays go. I'm extremely pleased to hear that English will be a challenge. The amount of growth that takes place when one is challenged is...phenomenal. So far, all we've done is talk about writing good college essays and read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, a very odd book that I'm thoroughly enjoying.
Fourth hour, I have AP Government and Politics with Mr. McElroy. He's got that kind of humour that makes him backtrack, sidetrack, uptrack, and pretty much derail off the track. He's amusing to listen to, because he speaks his mind and seemingly improvs everything he says. I think the otherwise boring material we'll be learning about will be made fascinating just because of the way he presents it. Oh, and did I mention he puts disco music on between classes, so we walk in to some crazy old music? I saw him bust a move once...needless to say, that barmy old codger has earned a shred of my utmost respect.
Fifth hour, I have AP Statistics with Coach Mayer. His sense of humour and mine are incredibly similar. He's the type of person who would tell you to your face (jokingly) to shut up because you're making his life more difficult. So far, I've notised that he is very birdlike in his movements; he kind of bobs his head when he speaks, and he turns it sharply when he looks around. That, combined with the fact that he's tall and has a pointy nose, makes me think of a bird. Not sure what breed, but definitely avian. What pleases me even MORE is that I'm really truly enjoying Statistics. Love it. It makes PERFECT sense to me. I can SEE and MANIPULATE and COLLECT and INTERPRET actual data. What I love about it is that it's real, applicable, and solid math. There's none of this gay Calculus crap, with formulas created to explain dimensions and concepts that don't exist in the real world. When am I EVER going to find the derivative of something? Hmmm...never? When am I EVER going to need to interpret a complicated graph? Hmmm...ALWAYS? Statistics makes so much sense, and I love my class, with the exception of two incredibly vain, annoying dance team girls who sit irritatingly in front of me.
Sixth hour, I have Human Relations with Mrs. Lumpkin. This is the only class I don't enjoy yet. It seems like it's going to be very boring. It's not necessarily the material that I think will bother me; it's the teacher. She seems like a sweet little lady with nothing mean to say, but at the same time, she can't raise her voice (you can barely hear her), she is incredibly conservative (politically and socially), she is very domestic (I can't imagine her standing up for herself), she is entirely old-fashioned (not the strong, independent, fierce American woman I envision myself becoming), and she majored in Home Economics (I'm sorry, but WTF?). I don't think our personalities will mesh very well, though she seems kind. I have a mixture of interesting people in my class, who I think feel the same way I do about her, and I think my class will be particularly hard for her to handle.
Seventh and eighth hour are, of course, my apprenticeship class periods, and we all know I hate my job and the people I work with, so there's nothing left to be said in THAT regard.
Today, I have finished all but one homework assignment, I have taken a three-hour nap, I have vacuumed the entire first floor, and I have successfully avoided taking a shower. I feel gross, and am really sick, but I don't think I can take another moment at this bloody computer. I need to get up and move a little bit. My joints hurt from racquetball last night, and my muscles are complaining bitterly, but this screen is burning my eyes. I have these horrible bruise-like shades under my eyes, and I can't help but worry about them...I have been sleeping horribly for the past week or so. My dreams are plagued with nightmares. I really need some sunshine, but I hate the outdoors. I feel lonely and distant from people, but I know that's by choice. I need a break from life. I need to sleep for at least a year.
Why don't humans hibernate?
I've got five homework assignments, and so far, I have chewed my way through three of them. The remaining two are essays, so I'm not incredibly worried.
I guess I could give you a class analysis/breakdown/report/update?
First hour, I have AP Spanish V with Señora Kirkconnell. From the handful of times I've attended her class, I can already tell that it's going to be a little bit difficult and a lot of fun. The class is actually taught primarily in Spanish. We've used very little English thusfar, and we've only had one official day of real class. Sadly, this detail is what's making two of my near and dear friends quit AP Spanish. LOSERS. We took a placement test to see how our Spanish skills are doing, and I'm embarrassed to say that I was quite rusty after the summer, and probably bombed the practise test. I couldn't remember the difference between the indicative and the infinitive; that was pretty much my only big trip-up. That, and not remembering how to conjugate "ser" or "salir"...I hate -ir and -er verbs! But I am definitely looking forward to learning more Spanish. I can definitely increase my fluency if I work hard enough; I've been listening to the prescribed Spanish podcasts on iTunes most of the morning, and I'm pleased to say that I've been catching on!
Second hour, I have Human Behaviours and Disorders with Mr. England. First of all, I really like Mr. England. His sense of humour is dry, but blunt. I think he's hilarious. He's the kind of guy who'll tell you straight up if he doesn't give a damn about something. And he has told us this. Multiple times. The fun of this class is enhanced by how easy/interesting it's going to be, and by the two guyfriends I have in my class. We spent our entire first day talking to Mr. England about our future plans and our goals and dreams. It was neat to hear what kinds of different career paths my peers will be taking. I'm looking forward to a very amusing year...full of Mr. England's military stories, medical stories, and personal stories about his cat.
Third hour, I have AP English IV with Mr. Davis. It seems as though all of my male teachers have their own distinct sense of humour. I can't really describe Mr. Davis's. I'm happy to say that he is a known-to-be-difficult grader, as far as essays go. I'm extremely pleased to hear that English will be a challenge. The amount of growth that takes place when one is challenged is...phenomenal. So far, all we've done is talk about writing good college essays and read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, a very odd book that I'm thoroughly enjoying.
Fourth hour, I have AP Government and Politics with Mr. McElroy. He's got that kind of humour that makes him backtrack, sidetrack, uptrack, and pretty much derail off the track. He's amusing to listen to, because he speaks his mind and seemingly improvs everything he says. I think the otherwise boring material we'll be learning about will be made fascinating just because of the way he presents it. Oh, and did I mention he puts disco music on between classes, so we walk in to some crazy old music? I saw him bust a move once...needless to say, that barmy old codger has earned a shred of my utmost respect.
Fifth hour, I have AP Statistics with Coach Mayer. His sense of humour and mine are incredibly similar. He's the type of person who would tell you to your face (jokingly) to shut up because you're making his life more difficult. So far, I've notised that he is very birdlike in his movements; he kind of bobs his head when he speaks, and he turns it sharply when he looks around. That, combined with the fact that he's tall and has a pointy nose, makes me think of a bird. Not sure what breed, but definitely avian. What pleases me even MORE is that I'm really truly enjoying Statistics. Love it. It makes PERFECT sense to me. I can SEE and MANIPULATE and COLLECT and INTERPRET actual data. What I love about it is that it's real, applicable, and solid math. There's none of this gay Calculus crap, with formulas created to explain dimensions and concepts that don't exist in the real world. When am I EVER going to find the derivative of something? Hmmm...never? When am I EVER going to need to interpret a complicated graph? Hmmm...ALWAYS? Statistics makes so much sense, and I love my class, with the exception of two incredibly vain, annoying dance team girls who sit irritatingly in front of me.
Sixth hour, I have Human Relations with Mrs. Lumpkin. This is the only class I don't enjoy yet. It seems like it's going to be very boring. It's not necessarily the material that I think will bother me; it's the teacher. She seems like a sweet little lady with nothing mean to say, but at the same time, she can't raise her voice (you can barely hear her), she is incredibly conservative (politically and socially), she is very domestic (I can't imagine her standing up for herself), she is entirely old-fashioned (not the strong, independent, fierce American woman I envision myself becoming), and she majored in Home Economics (I'm sorry, but WTF?). I don't think our personalities will mesh very well, though she seems kind. I have a mixture of interesting people in my class, who I think feel the same way I do about her, and I think my class will be particularly hard for her to handle.
Seventh and eighth hour are, of course, my apprenticeship class periods, and we all know I hate my job and the people I work with, so there's nothing left to be said in THAT regard.
Today, I have finished all but one homework assignment, I have taken a three-hour nap, I have vacuumed the entire first floor, and I have successfully avoided taking a shower. I feel gross, and am really sick, but I don't think I can take another moment at this bloody computer. I need to get up and move a little bit. My joints hurt from racquetball last night, and my muscles are complaining bitterly, but this screen is burning my eyes. I have these horrible bruise-like shades under my eyes, and I can't help but worry about them...I have been sleeping horribly for the past week or so. My dreams are plagued with nightmares. I really need some sunshine, but I hate the outdoors. I feel lonely and distant from people, but I know that's by choice. I need a break from life. I need to sleep for at least a year.
Why don't humans hibernate?
17 August 2009
uninspired.
I'm cheap, so I'll toss out another college essay for you to read. This one was written more from the heart than my others, and I think that crazed adoration shows through my threadbare vocabulary and syntax. Forgive me?
TOPIC OF YOUR CHOICE.
“I write for the same reason I breathe – because if I didn’t, I would die.” While I don’t usually agree with Asimov’s personal statements, I wholeheartedly believe in this one.
Because that same love for writing resonates in the quietest shadows of my soul. Great writing is a blessing that great writers have shared with little people like me. Like many composers before me, not only do I WANT to write; I NEED to write.
Through writing, I find my purpose. I can to produce something original that I can claim as my own. I can take what lies deep inside me, and put words to it, bring it into existence; through words, I can invent! Everybody has read at least one literary piece that has inspired them, the piece of an author they’ve never met, but by whom they have been profoundly shaped. I write every day in the hopes that, perhaps in my future, I will have a redefining impact on a stranger miles away, who will never meet me, but with whom I can share a piece of my heart.
I also write to defy the standards set for my generation, a generation of consumers and buyers. I suppose that in today’s society, I’m not really expected to contribute much of anything. I am expected to simply regurgitate and recycle what generations before me have actualised. Rarely does anybody my age create something new and lasting. But I aspire to change that. I have grown restless with the low expectations set forth by the infamous “They”, who have always assumed I’m not capable of giving back to the world yet, because I am young and inexperienced.
I am here to demonstrate that writing does allow me to give back. I know that my written words carry tremendous, intoxicating power. What is in my mind can take whatever form I will it to, venom or vindication, and the responsibility of controlling this power is great.
So I write to spread love. I write to praise, to encourage, to persuade, and to advocate. Writing makes easy what is so hard to live. Any disciple of text can attest to its ability to completely redirect a mood. This is the beauty of writing: that it is a fresh, raw, dynamic snapshot of one’s inner thoughts and feelings.
Furthermore, I write because I am an addict. This addiction begs no rehab; I don’t need pills or needles or restraints. I just need ten fingers and a mind of my own because I am addicted to the blood of a pen, the spine of a pencil, and the muscle of a printer. The feeling of a smooth new eraser will never stop reassuring me that I can always learn from my mistakes, with a few smudges left behind as promising reminders that there IS a future, should I choose to invest time in creating it.
I wrote this essay not as a chance to show off, or to impress you with any linguistic prowess I may or may not possess, but because I believed my love letter to letters was long overdue. The irony is that when I write, when I give so much of myself to paper, the paper is only ever giving back to me.
It is my gift to myself, and now, it is my gift to you.
TOPIC OF YOUR CHOICE.
“I write for the same reason I breathe – because if I didn’t, I would die.” While I don’t usually agree with Asimov’s personal statements, I wholeheartedly believe in this one.
Because that same love for writing resonates in the quietest shadows of my soul. Great writing is a blessing that great writers have shared with little people like me. Like many composers before me, not only do I WANT to write; I NEED to write.
Through writing, I find my purpose. I can to produce something original that I can claim as my own. I can take what lies deep inside me, and put words to it, bring it into existence; through words, I can invent! Everybody has read at least one literary piece that has inspired them, the piece of an author they’ve never met, but by whom they have been profoundly shaped. I write every day in the hopes that, perhaps in my future, I will have a redefining impact on a stranger miles away, who will never meet me, but with whom I can share a piece of my heart.
I also write to defy the standards set for my generation, a generation of consumers and buyers. I suppose that in today’s society, I’m not really expected to contribute much of anything. I am expected to simply regurgitate and recycle what generations before me have actualised. Rarely does anybody my age create something new and lasting. But I aspire to change that. I have grown restless with the low expectations set forth by the infamous “They”, who have always assumed I’m not capable of giving back to the world yet, because I am young and inexperienced.
I am here to demonstrate that writing does allow me to give back. I know that my written words carry tremendous, intoxicating power. What is in my mind can take whatever form I will it to, venom or vindication, and the responsibility of controlling this power is great.
So I write to spread love. I write to praise, to encourage, to persuade, and to advocate. Writing makes easy what is so hard to live. Any disciple of text can attest to its ability to completely redirect a mood. This is the beauty of writing: that it is a fresh, raw, dynamic snapshot of one’s inner thoughts and feelings.
Furthermore, I write because I am an addict. This addiction begs no rehab; I don’t need pills or needles or restraints. I just need ten fingers and a mind of my own because I am addicted to the blood of a pen, the spine of a pencil, and the muscle of a printer. The feeling of a smooth new eraser will never stop reassuring me that I can always learn from my mistakes, with a few smudges left behind as promising reminders that there IS a future, should I choose to invest time in creating it.
I wrote this essay not as a chance to show off, or to impress you with any linguistic prowess I may or may not possess, but because I believed my love letter to letters was long overdue. The irony is that when I write, when I give so much of myself to paper, the paper is only ever giving back to me.
It is my gift to myself, and now, it is my gift to you.
15 August 2009
embarrassed.
I'm hugely pathetic and lonely, so it's only natural that I would gravitate in the direction of a fictional character right? RIGHT?
In terms of the ever-popular Twilight series, Edward Cullen is definitely THE vampire of choice, hands down. But I've gotta say, after seeing the movie, I think Jasper Cullen is the single most attractive vampire to ever grace the silver screen. What is it with me and unattainable blondes? (see previous boyfriends)
Heck, even Carlisle was hot, and he was supposed to be, like, in his early 30's or something?
Rank in attractiveness, from hottest to least hot:
1. Jasper (looks a little constipated, but otherwise, beautiful hair and face and body build)
2. Carlisle (can't get enough of his facial bone structure! perfect!)
3. Edward (sorry, I'm biased for blondes...and Robert Pattinson has chest hair...I hate chest hair)
4. Emmett (meh, his personality was well-portrayed, but he wasn't very cute)
I feel like such a loser girly-girl, reading these cheap thrill romances and obsessing over fictional guys, but can you really blame me? When you're as romantically ignored as I am, you tend to get a little desperate...falling in love with fictional characters, Google-stalking their personality factors, and combing through every literary and screen analysis ever written about them.
There isn't much that I do in regards to my femininity, but irrevocably adoring fictional boys is reeeeeeeeally high up there on my list, next to doing my hair and squealing at the thought of certain very attractive vampires. ;)
I wish I had something better to talk about, like school and work and the meaning of life, but sadly, I've just been wasting my time reading the Twilight saga repeatedly.
I can't say I hate it; rather, I love being so absorbed in something. I haven't been this devoted to anything since I was in AP Biology and obsessively studied. But Twilight is just so much more INTERESTING than biology right now. There are BOYS in Twilight. BOYS.
Don't worry, mom and dad;
I'm bracing for a single senior year.
In terms of the ever-popular Twilight series, Edward Cullen is definitely THE vampire of choice, hands down. But I've gotta say, after seeing the movie, I think Jasper Cullen is the single most attractive vampire to ever grace the silver screen. What is it with me and unattainable blondes? (see previous boyfriends)
Heck, even Carlisle was hot, and he was supposed to be, like, in his early 30's or something?
Rank in attractiveness, from hottest to least hot:
1. Jasper (looks a little constipated, but otherwise, beautiful hair and face and body build)
2. Carlisle (can't get enough of his facial bone structure! perfect!)
3. Edward (sorry, I'm biased for blondes...and Robert Pattinson has chest hair...I hate chest hair)
4. Emmett (meh, his personality was well-portrayed, but he wasn't very cute)
I feel like such a loser girly-girl, reading these cheap thrill romances and obsessing over fictional guys, but can you really blame me? When you're as romantically ignored as I am, you tend to get a little desperate...falling in love with fictional characters, Google-stalking their personality factors, and combing through every literary and screen analysis ever written about them.
There isn't much that I do in regards to my femininity, but irrevocably adoring fictional boys is reeeeeeeeally high up there on my list, next to doing my hair and squealing at the thought of certain very attractive vampires. ;)
I wish I had something better to talk about, like school and work and the meaning of life, but sadly, I've just been wasting my time reading the Twilight saga repeatedly.
I can't say I hate it; rather, I love being so absorbed in something. I haven't been this devoted to anything since I was in AP Biology and obsessively studied. But Twilight is just so much more INTERESTING than biology right now. There are BOYS in Twilight. BOYS.
Don't worry, mom and dad;
I'm bracing for a single senior year.
13 August 2009
preferential.
Some of my MOST FAVOURITE WORDS, in no particular order. I could go on forever, but I stuck to the basic 50. Enjoy! I even added my own pronunciations. A couple of them vary from the normal, because I tend to speak in tall vowels, but for the most part, we walk on even ground.
1. facetious (fuh-see-shiss)
2. infallible (in-fal-ih-bul)
3. heightened (hy-tinned)
4. pavane (puh-vawn)
5. corpse (core-pss)
6. affable (ah-fuh-bul)
7. aloof (uh-loof)
8. irrelevant (ih-rell-uh-vehnt)
9. ascription (uh-skrip-shin)
10. caustic (caw-stic)
11. knickers (nih-kerrs)
12. dismantle (diss-man-tul)
13. dignified (dihg-nih-fyed)
14. craft (crawft)
15. awkward (aw-kwerd)
16. fraudulent (fraw-jule-lehnt)
17. grey (graye)
18. epitome (eh-piht-uh-mee)
19. encapsulate (en-capp-sul-ayt)
20. perception (pur-sepp-shin)
21. circumnavigate (sur-cuhm-nah-vih-gayt)
22. kapok (kay-poc)
23. commerce (caw-murce)
24. paradigm (pair-uh-dym)
25. Guernica (gwair-nih-kuh)
26. declassé (dee-claws-ay)
27. toxic (tawks-ic)
28. intensity (in-tenn-sit-ee)
29. luminosity (lew-min-aw-sit-ee)
30. voluptuous (vuh-lup-shoo-iss)
31. aggressive (uh-gress-iv)
32. improbable (im-praw-buh-bul)
33. pedagogy (pehd-uh-go-jee)
34. deconstruct (dee-cun-struc-shin)
35. infidelity (in-fih-dell-ih-tee)
36. exact (eks-akt)
37. impact (im-pakt)
38. transcendental (trahn-sen-den-tul)
39. crisp (cr-ih-sp)
40. cognac (cohn-yak)
41. desperado (dess-pur-aw-doe)
42. earthscape (urth-skayp)
43. tourniquet (tore-nih-ket)
44. composite (comm-pawz-it)
45. fracture (frak-chor)
46. dissociative (dis-sos-ee-ih-tiv)
47. delicate (dell-ih-kit)
48. tactical (tak-tih-kul)
49. wok (wawk)
50. fortitude (for-tih-tyood)
1. facetious (fuh-see-shiss)
2. infallible (in-fal-ih-bul)
3. heightened (hy-tinned)
4. pavane (puh-vawn)
5. corpse (core-pss)
6. affable (ah-fuh-bul)
7. aloof (uh-loof)
8. irrelevant (ih-rell-uh-vehnt)
9. ascription (uh-skrip-shin)
10. caustic (caw-stic)
11. knickers (nih-kerrs)
12. dismantle (diss-man-tul)
13. dignified (dihg-nih-fyed)
14. craft (crawft)
15. awkward (aw-kwerd)
16. fraudulent (fraw-jule-lehnt)
17. grey (graye)
18. epitome (eh-piht-uh-mee)
19. encapsulate (en-capp-sul-ayt)
20. perception (pur-sepp-shin)
21. circumnavigate (sur-cuhm-nah-vih-gayt)
22. kapok (kay-poc)
23. commerce (caw-murce)
24. paradigm (pair-uh-dym)
25. Guernica (gwair-nih-kuh)
26. declassé (dee-claws-ay)
27. toxic (tawks-ic)
28. intensity (in-tenn-sit-ee)
29. luminosity (lew-min-aw-sit-ee)
30. voluptuous (vuh-lup-shoo-iss)
31. aggressive (uh-gress-iv)
32. improbable (im-praw-buh-bul)
33. pedagogy (pehd-uh-go-jee)
34. deconstruct (dee-cun-struc-shin)
35. infidelity (in-fih-dell-ih-tee)
36. exact (eks-akt)
37. impact (im-pakt)
38. transcendental (trahn-sen-den-tul)
39. crisp (cr-ih-sp)
40. cognac (cohn-yak)
41. desperado (dess-pur-aw-doe)
42. earthscape (urth-skayp)
43. tourniquet (tore-nih-ket)
44. composite (comm-pawz-it)
45. fracture (frak-chor)
46. dissociative (dis-sos-ee-ih-tiv)
47. delicate (dell-ih-kit)
48. tactical (tak-tih-kul)
49. wok (wawk)
50. fortitude (for-tih-tyood)
08 August 2009
attentive.
This one felt a little confrontational throughout its drafting, but I think I finally settled on a more subtly frustrated draft. This essay has undergone one round of drafting and will probably endure one more before its printing. I hope you like it!
DISCUSS SOME ISSUE OF PERSONAL, LOCAL, NATIONAL, OR INTERNATIONAL CONCERN AND ITS IMPORTANCE TO YOU.
If I were hypothetically asked to name a concern that applied personally, locally, nationally, and internationally, I would jump at the chance to scream RACIAL TOLERANCE. And since this question isn’t so hypothetical anymore, I must pay my dues and proclaim RACIAL TOLERANCE as loud as I can in writing.
As person of mixed ethnicities, I struggle to accept the use of the term “race” when specifying an ethnic origin. According to my trusty sidekick, Webster, race is defined as “a competition; an urgent need; an onward movement”. I had to read further to find the definition I was looking for, the one I was expecting: “a group of persons related by common descent or heredity”. If I was to believe that we all evolved from a primordial speck, and therefore shared a common ancestor, would that extinguish the word “race” from my cache of descriptors? If I was to believe that we all descended from Adam and Eve, and therefore genealogically overlapped, would that be enough to justify the removal of “race” from my mind?
My least favourite definition of the word “tolerance” is “the act or capacity of enduring”. If I were to say that I was “tolerating your race”, then I would be back-handedly saying that I’m “enduring your race”, as though your race were a bad odour or an unpleasant sight. I firmly believe the word “tolerance” should be redefined to mean “accepting, though not always understanding, something that is different from you”. In my perfect world, the last thing we will notise will be the colour of skin. We will accept our differences, revoke our claims of superiority, and abandon our mistaken perceptions.
If we define ourselves as the human RACE, and not as the human SPECIES, then have we not been abusing the word “race” for far too long? It is my personal belief that we are all one race. We are all humans. We are of different cultures, different bloodlines, and different customs, but we share this planet. We share the same bodily structures and the same anatomical functions. We have the same hinges, the same networks, and the same chemicals. All in different proportions, but that doesn't change our fundamental structure: that of a homo sapien. We've gone to war over ethnic differences, but how grand are the losses when placed alongside the victories! Are you not built like me? Are we not the same? If we get cut, we both bleed. If we are shoved, we both bruise. But I believe that if we fall, we will both get up. If our leaders and our citizens could learn to abandon their predispositions, their assumptions and inclinations, perhaps our world would be a more beautiful, accepting place.
My generation’s history has been too badly scarred by racism to be healed. I feel I have no choice but to press forward, to change the standards by which my ancestors lived. I have the power and the ability to change the worldscape. I am the next generation. I will inherit the problems of my parents and will be charged with the responsibility of changing the flaws in the system. My hope is that by the time I lay down to die, my peers will have successfully realised and reached their fullest potential as individuals, as communities, as countries, and as a species.
DISCUSS SOME ISSUE OF PERSONAL, LOCAL, NATIONAL, OR INTERNATIONAL CONCERN AND ITS IMPORTANCE TO YOU.
If I were hypothetically asked to name a concern that applied personally, locally, nationally, and internationally, I would jump at the chance to scream RACIAL TOLERANCE. And since this question isn’t so hypothetical anymore, I must pay my dues and proclaim RACIAL TOLERANCE as loud as I can in writing.
As person of mixed ethnicities, I struggle to accept the use of the term “race” when specifying an ethnic origin. According to my trusty sidekick, Webster, race is defined as “a competition; an urgent need; an onward movement”. I had to read further to find the definition I was looking for, the one I was expecting: “a group of persons related by common descent or heredity”. If I was to believe that we all evolved from a primordial speck, and therefore shared a common ancestor, would that extinguish the word “race” from my cache of descriptors? If I was to believe that we all descended from Adam and Eve, and therefore genealogically overlapped, would that be enough to justify the removal of “race” from my mind?
My least favourite definition of the word “tolerance” is “the act or capacity of enduring”. If I were to say that I was “tolerating your race”, then I would be back-handedly saying that I’m “enduring your race”, as though your race were a bad odour or an unpleasant sight. I firmly believe the word “tolerance” should be redefined to mean “accepting, though not always understanding, something that is different from you”. In my perfect world, the last thing we will notise will be the colour of skin. We will accept our differences, revoke our claims of superiority, and abandon our mistaken perceptions.
If we define ourselves as the human RACE, and not as the human SPECIES, then have we not been abusing the word “race” for far too long? It is my personal belief that we are all one race. We are all humans. We are of different cultures, different bloodlines, and different customs, but we share this planet. We share the same bodily structures and the same anatomical functions. We have the same hinges, the same networks, and the same chemicals. All in different proportions, but that doesn't change our fundamental structure: that of a homo sapien. We've gone to war over ethnic differences, but how grand are the losses when placed alongside the victories! Are you not built like me? Are we not the same? If we get cut, we both bleed. If we are shoved, we both bruise. But I believe that if we fall, we will both get up. If our leaders and our citizens could learn to abandon their predispositions, their assumptions and inclinations, perhaps our world would be a more beautiful, accepting place.
My generation’s history has been too badly scarred by racism to be healed. I feel I have no choice but to press forward, to change the standards by which my ancestors lived. I have the power and the ability to change the worldscape. I am the next generation. I will inherit the problems of my parents and will be charged with the responsibility of changing the flaws in the system. My hope is that by the time I lay down to die, my peers will have successfully realised and reached their fullest potential as individuals, as communities, as countries, and as a species.
06 August 2009
dynamic.
Happy birthday, world. Here is my response to the first Common App essay prompt, "Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you." It has some editing to endure yet, but I think it's a good rough draft. Enjoy!
(P.S. Bear with some of the cheesiness...it's the inevitable result of emotional attachment to a topic. Also keep in mind that it's a college application essay, and it is therefore meant to expose my many facets in a glorious light. Oh, and another thing: this is so ridiculously copyrighted, that if you bother to take even one sentence from it, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.)
Though that day was average, that night was redefining. It was the day I discovered a new depth in my convoluted bloodline; it was the day I found out I was part Jewish. That Wednesday night, my world was profoundly rocked, not because I had any expectations, fears, or qualms about my cultural future, but rather because of what I had considered myself to be in the past, a member of only three ethnicities: German, Irish, and mostly, Mexican.
To uncover a new blood-truth, however tiny, was uncharted territory. I, the invincible, all-knowing teenager, knew who I was and what I was made of. But this discovery eroded away any semblance of self-assurance I had worked to construct. It brought into my mind a set of unfamiliar questions: does this mean I must start reading the Talmud? Is it time to start observing the Shabbat? What the heck is the point of a yarmulke? A seasoned Googler, I took my inquiries to the Web. While revising my searches in order to “yield more specific results”, a guilty question passed through my mind: why does it matter "what" I am? If not to me, then to whom does it matter?
The week following my ethnic unearthing was one of the most, shall we say “mentally tumultuous” weeks I have ever experienced. I spent that time looking for answers to questions I'm sure generations before me have been quietly asking: why do we use race to distinguish ourselves? Are we not all members of the HUMAN race? Why it is that on standardised tests, under the Ethnicity/Race column, "human" isn't an option? (yes, our ancestors had standardised tests and asked such questions). Race wars have caused the deaths of thousands of people. To subject myself to the labelling that caused such destruction seemed…hypocritical. So I kept asking my questions, kept doing my research, and eventually found some solid answers:
There are no answers. There never were. I think somewhere inside, I knew the end before I began. My acceptance of this Inevitable Truth put my identity crisis to rest, if only for a moment. I have made the choice to be confident and secure in my total self, regardless of my individual components. Is the whole not infinitely greater than the sum of its parts? What my ethnic enlightenment and the ensuing questions taught me is that I don't have to let a term define me, limit me, expose me, or brand me if I don't bloody want it to. I am not obligated to conform to anybody's expectations of who I should be because of DNA that was simply given to me. The power to define myself is mine alone, and is a gift that I will never surrender.
(P.S. Bear with some of the cheesiness...it's the inevitable result of emotional attachment to a topic. Also keep in mind that it's a college application essay, and it is therefore meant to expose my many facets in a glorious light. Oh, and another thing: this is so ridiculously copyrighted, that if you bother to take even one sentence from it, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.)
Though that day was average, that night was redefining. It was the day I discovered a new depth in my convoluted bloodline; it was the day I found out I was part Jewish. That Wednesday night, my world was profoundly rocked, not because I had any expectations, fears, or qualms about my cultural future, but rather because of what I had considered myself to be in the past, a member of only three ethnicities: German, Irish, and mostly, Mexican.
To uncover a new blood-truth, however tiny, was uncharted territory. I, the invincible, all-knowing teenager, knew who I was and what I was made of. But this discovery eroded away any semblance of self-assurance I had worked to construct. It brought into my mind a set of unfamiliar questions: does this mean I must start reading the Talmud? Is it time to start observing the Shabbat? What the heck is the point of a yarmulke? A seasoned Googler, I took my inquiries to the Web. While revising my searches in order to “yield more specific results”, a guilty question passed through my mind: why does it matter "what" I am? If not to me, then to whom does it matter?
The week following my ethnic unearthing was one of the most, shall we say “mentally tumultuous” weeks I have ever experienced. I spent that time looking for answers to questions I'm sure generations before me have been quietly asking: why do we use race to distinguish ourselves? Are we not all members of the HUMAN race? Why it is that on standardised tests, under the Ethnicity/Race column, "human" isn't an option? (yes, our ancestors had standardised tests and asked such questions). Race wars have caused the deaths of thousands of people. To subject myself to the labelling that caused such destruction seemed…hypocritical. So I kept asking my questions, kept doing my research, and eventually found some solid answers:
There are no answers. There never were. I think somewhere inside, I knew the end before I began. My acceptance of this Inevitable Truth put my identity crisis to rest, if only for a moment. I have made the choice to be confident and secure in my total self, regardless of my individual components. Is the whole not infinitely greater than the sum of its parts? What my ethnic enlightenment and the ensuing questions taught me is that I don't have to let a term define me, limit me, expose me, or brand me if I don't bloody want it to. I am not obligated to conform to anybody's expectations of who I should be because of DNA that was simply given to me. The power to define myself is mine alone, and is a gift that I will never surrender.
05 August 2009
regretful.
I failed to write a blog yesterday.
This was largely due to the fact that I got home, read Breaking Dawn for half an hour, went to dinner for two hours, came home and read MORE Breaking Dawn, then went to bed at 8:30. No, I don't think the Twilight series is fine literature, nor do I think it's particularly well-written. I just...needed some romance in my life. It's been kind of a drag. More on my sordid affairs later.
I have totally disappointed the blogging world with my inconsistency. Forgive me?
In any case, I guess I can give you a quick update on how I feel today...
Today was one of those days in which I REALLY couldn't stand the people I work with.
Now, I like most of my coworkers, I like one of my main bosses, and I hate pretty much everyone else. It's just a negative, arrogant, stressful environment. Whatever happened to just relaxing? I know it's work, not play, but can't we all just get along? Why is it such a competition to see who's better at this, who has the better that? I'm sick of it. Days like this make me want to quit.
In fact, I just might.
I'm getting sick of the bloated ego that my general workforce seems to have hovering over it. If I have to hear one more thing about anybody's ANYTHING, I am going to explode.
Other than today at work, I've had a very good day. I had dinner with the marvelous Annie Barry, who is only, like, my best friend in the entire world. Which was lovely. We caught up on college stuff, governor's school stuff, and of course, BOY STUFF!
Which makes for a nice segue into my next topic...BOYS! (audible sigh from the audience)
I'm at the point in my life, the brink of my senior year of high school, where I don't know what I wanna do about my relationship "situation". By this time, it's too late to consider getting a serious boyfriend, because I know we'd have to break it off at the end of the year to go to college. Who wants to commit to an end?
But at the same time, I've been a serious relationship almost my entire high school career. I dated a guy throughout my entire freshman year, a different guy from the beginning of my sophomore year until March of my junior year, and now I'm stuck here. With nobody. Alone. I truly do prefer being taken as opposed to being single. I'm happy either way, but I just enjoy being with someone more. I like commitment. And now I have none.
And don't start pity-partying me.
I've been on three dates this summer. Which is a healthy amount, I'd say. But I didn't really LIKE any of the guys I went on dates with. They were just good friends to me. And I prefer it that way. With them.
But that doesn't mean I'm not looking. I do want to meet somebody worth spending lots of time with. Someone worth talking to. Someone interesting and intelligent. But the odds of that happening in Bentonville...SO slim. So should I bother investing time in trying to find someone I couldn't get too attached to anyway? I don't know. Seems like a waste.
I think I'm just looking for someone to talk to, someone who likes talking to me, who likes listening to me. That's all I really want from the opposite gender right now.
Yeah, a true relationship is always a plus, I can't complain about that, but when it comes down to it, I just want a good friend. And nobody seems to get that. I try to be friendly, and they think I'm flirtatious. I try to be distant, and they think I'm rude. I try to be noncommittal, and they think I'm lazy. What the heck, man? Why can't I just be taken at face-value? Ugh.
So I'm ready to throw in the towel on dating. There's nobody left here. Or maybe it's because I have really high standards? I mean, there are lots of great, decent guys, and most of them are already my friends, but I have a strict set of criteria already in place...and I don't think I'm quite willing to make exceptions and be dissatisfied.
I'm just picky.
It's not like I haven't TRIED to make exceptions. There are some non-negotiables...my non-negotiable list gets longer after every guy I date/like. I guess I could give you my current non-negotiable list, and if you know anybody that meets the standards, send 'em my way.
1. Christian. That's just hands-down, no ifs ands or buts about it. This is the singular most important thing to me right now as I carry on my quest for somebody to love. If he's not into God, I'm not into him.
2. Intelligent. I'm talking Mensa-qualified. I'm talking ACT score above 28. I know that sounds superficial, to ask for someone soooooo smart (28's not that hard, you dummy), but to me, anything lower is LAZINESS or LACK OF MOTIVATION or SHEER INCOMPETENCY. I got a 28 my first try, and ain't nobody beating down MY door 'cause I'm a genius. I didn't even try. So he'd better be my level (31) or higher. Preferably higher, of course, but you take what you can get.
3. Blue-eyed. Three of the four guys I've dated were blue-eyed. And after going blue, I don't think I could ever go brown. It's just not as interesting. Blue eyes are just so beautiful. And clear. And readable. And thoughtful. And everything that could be perfect about little squishy round spheres.
4. Honest. I need some good, sensible smacking around sometimes. I find that blunt honesty is extremely beneficial. Not necessarily rude or tactless honesty, but not candy-coated honesty either. A healthy medium. I don't like to lie, and I don't like to be lied to. I expect the same good, fair, honest, just treatment I give to be reciprocated.
5. Fashionable. My definition of fashion is weak in terms of myself, but I can spot a stylish man seven miles away. This really has nothing to do with other peoples' perceptions of what's hot and what's not...it's all about what I think looks attractive on that particular male. Some guys look great in khaki cargo shorts and flip flops...others look ridiculous. It depends on how well I think the guy wears what he's got.
6. Parent-friendly. He dates me, he dates my family. They're so loving and welcoming, it would be extremely difficult to date somebody who distances himself from others. We are a giving, kind, nurturing family. We're VERY close. A guy who can't handle that has no business dating me. He needs to be able to jump right in and swim to the finish line or he isn't worth catching.
7. Giving. I need someone who isn't all about himself, who isn't so wrapped up in his tiny world that his perceptions of the REAL WORLD are limited and flawed to his few square miles of it. I DON'T WANT A FISHBOWL BOYFRIEND. I greatly desire someone who is just 100% all about being there for someone else, caring about others, serving those who have less than him. I'm very much into community service/volunteer-type stuff, and I think anybody with shorter priorities than me, in that regard, isn't going to get along very well.
8. Attractive. This is entirely subjective. I can't list any criteria here because you wouldn't understand. It's all opinion. It's all personal. Sorry, love. See #5.
That's all I can think of right now. Of course, I'd absolutely adore a blond-haired, blue-eyed British boy with an urban style, a Ph.D, and a huge heart, but those are just so rare nowadays. They're the kind that get snatched up by blond-haired, blue-eyed trophy wives who are nothing short of perfect. Why do I even bother?
I'll just have to settle for a nerdy Harvard guy, I guess.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. ;)
This was largely due to the fact that I got home, read Breaking Dawn for half an hour, went to dinner for two hours, came home and read MORE Breaking Dawn, then went to bed at 8:30. No, I don't think the Twilight series is fine literature, nor do I think it's particularly well-written. I just...needed some romance in my life. It's been kind of a drag. More on my sordid affairs later.
I have totally disappointed the blogging world with my inconsistency. Forgive me?
In any case, I guess I can give you a quick update on how I feel today...
Today was one of those days in which I REALLY couldn't stand the people I work with.
Now, I like most of my coworkers, I like one of my main bosses, and I hate pretty much everyone else. It's just a negative, arrogant, stressful environment. Whatever happened to just relaxing? I know it's work, not play, but can't we all just get along? Why is it such a competition to see who's better at this, who has the better that? I'm sick of it. Days like this make me want to quit.
In fact, I just might.
I'm getting sick of the bloated ego that my general workforce seems to have hovering over it. If I have to hear one more thing about anybody's ANYTHING, I am going to explode.
Other than today at work, I've had a very good day. I had dinner with the marvelous Annie Barry, who is only, like, my best friend in the entire world. Which was lovely. We caught up on college stuff, governor's school stuff, and of course, BOY STUFF!
Which makes for a nice segue into my next topic...BOYS! (audible sigh from the audience)
I'm at the point in my life, the brink of my senior year of high school, where I don't know what I wanna do about my relationship "situation". By this time, it's too late to consider getting a serious boyfriend, because I know we'd have to break it off at the end of the year to go to college. Who wants to commit to an end?
But at the same time, I've been a serious relationship almost my entire high school career. I dated a guy throughout my entire freshman year, a different guy from the beginning of my sophomore year until March of my junior year, and now I'm stuck here. With nobody. Alone. I truly do prefer being taken as opposed to being single. I'm happy either way, but I just enjoy being with someone more. I like commitment. And now I have none.
And don't start pity-partying me.
I've been on three dates this summer. Which is a healthy amount, I'd say. But I didn't really LIKE any of the guys I went on dates with. They were just good friends to me. And I prefer it that way. With them.
But that doesn't mean I'm not looking. I do want to meet somebody worth spending lots of time with. Someone worth talking to. Someone interesting and intelligent. But the odds of that happening in Bentonville...SO slim. So should I bother investing time in trying to find someone I couldn't get too attached to anyway? I don't know. Seems like a waste.
I think I'm just looking for someone to talk to, someone who likes talking to me, who likes listening to me. That's all I really want from the opposite gender right now.
Yeah, a true relationship is always a plus, I can't complain about that, but when it comes down to it, I just want a good friend. And nobody seems to get that. I try to be friendly, and they think I'm flirtatious. I try to be distant, and they think I'm rude. I try to be noncommittal, and they think I'm lazy. What the heck, man? Why can't I just be taken at face-value? Ugh.
So I'm ready to throw in the towel on dating. There's nobody left here. Or maybe it's because I have really high standards? I mean, there are lots of great, decent guys, and most of them are already my friends, but I have a strict set of criteria already in place...and I don't think I'm quite willing to make exceptions and be dissatisfied.
I'm just picky.
It's not like I haven't TRIED to make exceptions. There are some non-negotiables...my non-negotiable list gets longer after every guy I date/like. I guess I could give you my current non-negotiable list, and if you know anybody that meets the standards, send 'em my way.
1. Christian. That's just hands-down, no ifs ands or buts about it. This is the singular most important thing to me right now as I carry on my quest for somebody to love. If he's not into God, I'm not into him.
2. Intelligent. I'm talking Mensa-qualified. I'm talking ACT score above 28. I know that sounds superficial, to ask for someone soooooo smart (28's not that hard, you dummy), but to me, anything lower is LAZINESS or LACK OF MOTIVATION or SHEER INCOMPETENCY. I got a 28 my first try, and ain't nobody beating down MY door 'cause I'm a genius. I didn't even try. So he'd better be my level (31) or higher. Preferably higher, of course, but you take what you can get.
3. Blue-eyed. Three of the four guys I've dated were blue-eyed. And after going blue, I don't think I could ever go brown. It's just not as interesting. Blue eyes are just so beautiful. And clear. And readable. And thoughtful. And everything that could be perfect about little squishy round spheres.
4. Honest. I need some good, sensible smacking around sometimes. I find that blunt honesty is extremely beneficial. Not necessarily rude or tactless honesty, but not candy-coated honesty either. A healthy medium. I don't like to lie, and I don't like to be lied to. I expect the same good, fair, honest, just treatment I give to be reciprocated.
5. Fashionable. My definition of fashion is weak in terms of myself, but I can spot a stylish man seven miles away. This really has nothing to do with other peoples' perceptions of what's hot and what's not...it's all about what I think looks attractive on that particular male. Some guys look great in khaki cargo shorts and flip flops...others look ridiculous. It depends on how well I think the guy wears what he's got.
6. Parent-friendly. He dates me, he dates my family. They're so loving and welcoming, it would be extremely difficult to date somebody who distances himself from others. We are a giving, kind, nurturing family. We're VERY close. A guy who can't handle that has no business dating me. He needs to be able to jump right in and swim to the finish line or he isn't worth catching.
7. Giving. I need someone who isn't all about himself, who isn't so wrapped up in his tiny world that his perceptions of the REAL WORLD are limited and flawed to his few square miles of it. I DON'T WANT A FISHBOWL BOYFRIEND. I greatly desire someone who is just 100% all about being there for someone else, caring about others, serving those who have less than him. I'm very much into community service/volunteer-type stuff, and I think anybody with shorter priorities than me, in that regard, isn't going to get along very well.
8. Attractive. This is entirely subjective. I can't list any criteria here because you wouldn't understand. It's all opinion. It's all personal. Sorry, love. See #5.
That's all I can think of right now. Of course, I'd absolutely adore a blond-haired, blue-eyed British boy with an urban style, a Ph.D, and a huge heart, but those are just so rare nowadays. They're the kind that get snatched up by blond-haired, blue-eyed trophy wives who are nothing short of perfect. Why do I even bother?
I'll just have to settle for a nerdy Harvard guy, I guess.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. ;)
03 August 2009
descriptive.
I guess I'll kick off this post by telling you about myself because I want you to know who sits on the other side of your computer connection. And because I'm just a naturally conceited person.
1. I am a big fan of you, baby, you.
2. I truthfully don't care who reads this or what they say about it. I'm impervious to snide commentary and malicious gossip.
3. It's time for REALLY important information.
4. I don't like pickles.
5. I like cucumbers.
6. But not pickles.
7. That was dumb. Everyone knows pickles and cucumbers are in the same family. Okay okay, I'll get serious now. Sorry!
8. I actually love being at school, and I make a point of being there extra early every day because I love the atmosphere and the people and the overall hustle and bustle. I love having something to do. I would totally be an English teacher if they got paid more, but sadly, they don't. I guess I'll be a doctor instead.
9. If I could, I'd go to church every day. If I could bottle up how I feel at church and carry it with me everywhere, I would, but of course, the heart does not make a solid, indestructible carrying case. Neither does the brain.
10. I mostly sleep while at home. Sleep, read, and occasionally play games/watch movies with my parents. I thoroughly enjoy playing rummy (classic card game), Sequence (tests our family telepathy), UpWords (a spelling/vocab game that I rock at), Cranium (an excellent thinking game...my fave, but it requires a lot of people), and Pictionary ("IT'S A GONDOLA!" "how the eff did you get that, Dad?" "No luck needed; I've got skill...and it looks kind of like an awkward banana").
11. Speaking of those crazy old people, I love my parents. They can be a little overbearing, a little controlling, and a little quick to "know exactly what we're talking about", but I still love them and would be so completely lost without them.
12. I listen to music while I write. Subsequently, song quotes will often turn up in my writings. You'll have to excuse me. I hope I don't get sued for copyright violations. It's usually classical music or really ambient, light listening, the kind of stuff I can do homework to. Like right now, I'm listening to French music. It's very relaxing. The French have such a beautiful, useless language.
13. Now that I mention it, I guess I should mention my linguistic abilities. I can speak Spanish/English, read in Spanish/English/French, write in Spanish/English, and understand Spanish/English/French when it's spoken. I can also read pretty much any basic derivatives from Spanish, such as Italian and Portuguese.
14. I took a year of Latin and Greek in the seventh grade. I LOVE Latin and Greek roots. They have proven to be more useful than anything else I've ever learned in English class. Infinite possibilities!
15. My favourite dessert is cheesecake. Just straight-up cheesecake. None of the sauce crap. I just want a good cheesecake, with the right softness and the right consistency. I don't like really hard graham crusts, either. It needs to be a soft shell with a creamy interior. (random transition from languages to desserts, but roll with it, okay?)
16. My favourite culinary "genre" is Chinese. I'm a HUGE fan of fried rice, which is so typical, but I'm always game for pork and beef, prepared any which way. Even though it's not Chinese, my favourite fried rice is from Thai Kitchen. Man, they know how to do a good rice.
17. I'm so near-sighted, it's a miracle my glasses even go up to the required power needed for me to see. My contacts are a power lower than my glasses, so I can't see as well with them. How sad. But I'm not blind! Thankfully.
18. Richard Gere (Pretty Woman) is a sexy old man. So is David Duchovny (The X-Files). And Harrison Ford (Star Wars). It doesn't matter how old or young you are, whether you're a guy or a gal, those three men are SO attractive, even in their advanced age.
19. But I generally date guys only a year or two older than me. They're generally more mature and more established in their habits and hobbies. Hopefully when I get to college, all the guys will be on a level playing field. But that might be too optimistic.
20. I used to want to be a lawyer, from the time I was in the 2nd grade until I was a freshman in high school. I credit my "social discovery" for changing my mind. I realised that I really love people, I love observing and noting and describing and prying and reading people. LOVE IT. People are so fascinating, how they're always shifting and changing. It never gets old. And they all FEEL! And THINK! It's amazing, the variety. So yeah, now I want to be a mental doctor, not a vampire.
21. I've dipped my toes into just about any sport you can name, but eventually, after years of dissatisfaction, I decided that I'm a big fan of racquetball. Mostly because something about being trapped in a giant, white room makes me think of a pscyhological torture game, but also, I find the echo to be appealing. It's like a dog chasing a fish around in a pool; you know you're limited, and you also know the fish is never that far away. In a racquetball court, you can almost always get to the ball in a few quick steps. And because it's a very bouncy ball in a very solid room, the game goes on long after you're gone.
22. I spend a fair amount of time on Facebook. It's a great way to keep in touch with people that you wouldn't see or talk to on a daily basis. I think all the little people in life really count. Each one is different, each one has a different purpose. It's soothing and stimulating for me to watch other peoples' lives play out. It's like a real-life soap opera/sitcom/romance/action flick. Brilliant plot twists.
23. I will NOT dance at any dance. I will slow dance, but that's about it. Otherwise, I'll have paramedics swarming me because the only dance I can do is the Seizure Dance!
25. I can't shave worth a crap. You could buy me the best razor, the best shaving cream, and enough time to make a diamond, but it wouldn't make a difference. I ALWAYS miss a spot. There's always a little patch that I have to go back over. I hate it. I am so incompetent. And gross.
26. As if I wasn't gross enough, I bite my nails. I've been biting them since I had teeth. It's just kind of an old habit. They never have a chance.
27. Old habits are EXTREMELY hard to break. My dearest friends will know what habits I'm referring to. Let's just say...the chances are slim that I'll trim the old habits away.
28. I wear a size 4 shoe. Do you know how impossible is it to find a size 4 anywhere? Kid sizes ended around 3, and woman sizes start around 6. I rarely find a good 4 or 5. Luckily, my mom, sister, and I all wear the same size, so that takes the total pair count to around 150 pairs of SHOES!
29. I bet I know more people than you. Well, maybe. All of my Facebook friends are my real friends in real life. I don't add people I haven't met. It's better, safer that way.
30. I can almost always identify what radio songs are rip-offs from older songs. Did you really think half the crap on today's radio is ORIGINAL? Ha! No way; the music was so much better the first time around.
31. I really don't like cake. Or cupcakes. Or brownies. I really don't like bready desserts. Nor do I like icing/frosting. It's gross. Pure gooey sugar. See #15.
32. I can put together a mean puzzle like it's nothing. I LOVE puzzles. If you're gonna get me anything for Christmas, get me a PUZZLE! I seal them and keep them forever, so I'm always needing new ones. I think they're totally fun and never boring. I know, I'm a loser. With way too much time.
33. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm totally self-deprecating? I put myself down a lot, but in reality, I don't know if I mean it or not. I mean, I suck at a lot of stuff, but I'm pretty good at some things, too. Okay, now I'm rambling.
34. I have a very abrasive sense of humour, and if you don't like it, you can go papercut your eyeballs.
35. But I'm actually a nice person. I'm not good at showing it AT ALL, but I try! I often come off as very lovey-dovey or very cruel. Just be patient with me; I'm learning how to be consistent.
36. I pay exceptional attention to detail. If you tell me anything, even once in passing, I almost always remember it. Stuff like addresses, preferences, and directions. It just sticks with me. The only things I'm bad at remembering are numbers. I won't often remember your house number, your phone number, or your year of birth. But I can remember most else. It's an odd talent of mine.
37. I don't like wearing socks. I hate 'em. I wear flip-flops almost every day, every season, so I find socks to be incredibly...restrictive. There's no freedom to be had! In fact, I wear flip-flops so much, I have very visible tan lines on my feet. It's kinda cute...and kinda sad.
38. I am fiercely independent. I HATE HATE HATE group projects. I really feel as though the only way it'll get done right is if I personally do it myself. The more people you work with, the more error-prone you are. Also, every time I have ever been group leader, my group has made above a 95% on the assignment. The ONE TIME I wasn't the leader, we got an 86%. See what a difference it makes? I MUST lead. It's an inborn desire for me. I am SO Type A.
39. I'm aggressive. The word "passive" doesn't even exist in my personality. I am never passive. I am always the aggressor, the pursuer, the go-getter, the chaser, the scorer, the winner, the competitor. I am not content to sit back and watch anything go by. Not people, not opportunities, not time.
40. Which, as you can imagine, makes me a worrisome individual. I worry about everything, even stuff that has nothing to do with me. In my worry, I furrow my brows, tug at my eyelashes, pop my fingers, pluck my arm hair, bite my nails. I'm a nasty-looking trainwreck disaster! I worry way too much, but I wouldn't consider myself a stressed out person. My parents thoroughly disagree. But what do they know?
41. I bruise easily. Which is bad, because I'm not very coordinated. I've got bruises on my knees, my hips, my elbows, my back, my ribs...you'd think I was abused or something. But nope, I'm just a clumsy fool.
42. If I seem to ask direct, focused questions on one particular topic, it's probably because of a boy. For example, if I ask questions like "Have you ever wakeboarded? Did you enjoy it? Would you recommend it? How hard is it? Do you know anybody else who wakeboards? Would you consider yourself a fanatic?", then it's almost certainly because I like a boy who wakeboards. Why else would I be so interested in something so inconsequential?
43. Naturally, I'm one of those annoying people who MUST KNOW EVERYTHING. I ask way too many questions, read way too many Wikipedia articles, and familiarise myself with too many different subjects. I'm insane. Of course, I know it's impossible to know everything, but the more, the better. I can have a fluent conversation with just about anybody about at least one thing. It's a nifty skill to have.
44. I can quote Zoolander word for word. From memory. I've seen it upwards of 50 times. It is definitely my favourite movie. And yes, I know it's ridiculously stupid. But I love it. I like stupid things.
45. I prefer taking left turns as opposed to right turns. I'm always afraid of hitting the curb on right turns, but with left turns, you have a lot of freedom to go faster, turn sharper, whatever. It's liberating.
46. I have astigmatism. This means I have depth perception problems because of the shape of my retina (among other factors). This, combined with my nearsightedness and general ignorance, resulted in me ripping the right sideview mirror off of my car after backing out too close to the garage wall. I cried for an hour straight, after which my then-boyfriend brought me a milkshake to make me feel better. I should rip my mirrors off more often.
47. But I swear I'm not a bad driver. I switch lanes like Michael Jackson cuts a rug, and I love accelerating to get onto the highway, but that's about all the reckless I am.
48. This is probably the most important thing in this entry: I HATE KIDS. Little, ankle-biting heathens. Hate 'em. They're smelly, they're expensive, they're loud, they're annoying, they're attention-stealers, they're pudgy, they're uncoordinated, they're unintelligent, and ALL THEY DO IS POOP. I hate kids. They're basically useless and irritating until they hit puberty, and then they get a little more interesting, a little smarter, a little more realistic. I love teens. Hate kids. Always have. The most I would be willing to have is one, and it'd better be a boy, or I quit life. I would consider adopting, of course, but even then, I'd adopt a preteen, thereby skipping the "pooping excessively" stage of life.
49. I think drinking is stupid. Of course, I do enjoy a nice Cabernet Sauvignon (what a cool name for a red wine...only tasted it once, sadly), and I'll reluctantly take a glass of wine (my dad always buys this excellent Riesling...the only white wine I can tolerate) or champagne (wedding champagne is excellent...so crisp and fresh), but really, beer and other hard liquors are just a waste of money. I have very little respect for people who drink because they feel they have to in order to socially facilitate themselves. They are incredibly weak-minded. Yes. Even my own mother.
50. Obviously, I speak the blunt, solid truth without remorse. It's one of my...less pleasant qualities. But I find the truth to be extremely necessary. If we all just told the truth more often, well, more of us would be dead, but the rest of us would be exceptionally progressive.
I'm sure there will be more to come after this post. I can't resist blabbing about my pathetic life to whoever will listen. Of course, nobody really cares, except me, and even then,
I'm losing interest in myself.
1. I am a big fan of you, baby, you.
2. I truthfully don't care who reads this or what they say about it. I'm impervious to snide commentary and malicious gossip.
3. It's time for REALLY important information.
4. I don't like pickles.
5. I like cucumbers.
6. But not pickles.
7. That was dumb. Everyone knows pickles and cucumbers are in the same family. Okay okay, I'll get serious now. Sorry!
8. I actually love being at school, and I make a point of being there extra early every day because I love the atmosphere and the people and the overall hustle and bustle. I love having something to do. I would totally be an English teacher if they got paid more, but sadly, they don't. I guess I'll be a doctor instead.
9. If I could, I'd go to church every day. If I could bottle up how I feel at church and carry it with me everywhere, I would, but of course, the heart does not make a solid, indestructible carrying case. Neither does the brain.
10. I mostly sleep while at home. Sleep, read, and occasionally play games/watch movies with my parents. I thoroughly enjoy playing rummy (classic card game), Sequence (tests our family telepathy), UpWords (a spelling/vocab game that I rock at), Cranium (an excellent thinking game...my fave, but it requires a lot of people), and Pictionary ("IT'S A GONDOLA!" "how the eff did you get that, Dad?" "No luck needed; I've got skill...and it looks kind of like an awkward banana").
11. Speaking of those crazy old people, I love my parents. They can be a little overbearing, a little controlling, and a little quick to "know exactly what we're talking about", but I still love them and would be so completely lost without them.
12. I listen to music while I write. Subsequently, song quotes will often turn up in my writings. You'll have to excuse me. I hope I don't get sued for copyright violations. It's usually classical music or really ambient, light listening, the kind of stuff I can do homework to. Like right now, I'm listening to French music. It's very relaxing. The French have such a beautiful, useless language.
13. Now that I mention it, I guess I should mention my linguistic abilities. I can speak Spanish/English, read in Spanish/English/French, write in Spanish/English, and understand Spanish/English/French when it's spoken. I can also read pretty much any basic derivatives from Spanish, such as Italian and Portuguese.
14. I took a year of Latin and Greek in the seventh grade. I LOVE Latin and Greek roots. They have proven to be more useful than anything else I've ever learned in English class. Infinite possibilities!
15. My favourite dessert is cheesecake. Just straight-up cheesecake. None of the sauce crap. I just want a good cheesecake, with the right softness and the right consistency. I don't like really hard graham crusts, either. It needs to be a soft shell with a creamy interior. (random transition from languages to desserts, but roll with it, okay?)
16. My favourite culinary "genre" is Chinese. I'm a HUGE fan of fried rice, which is so typical, but I'm always game for pork and beef, prepared any which way. Even though it's not Chinese, my favourite fried rice is from Thai Kitchen. Man, they know how to do a good rice.
17. I'm so near-sighted, it's a miracle my glasses even go up to the required power needed for me to see. My contacts are a power lower than my glasses, so I can't see as well with them. How sad. But I'm not blind! Thankfully.
18. Richard Gere (Pretty Woman) is a sexy old man. So is David Duchovny (The X-Files). And Harrison Ford (Star Wars). It doesn't matter how old or young you are, whether you're a guy or a gal, those three men are SO attractive, even in their advanced age.
19. But I generally date guys only a year or two older than me. They're generally more mature and more established in their habits and hobbies. Hopefully when I get to college, all the guys will be on a level playing field. But that might be too optimistic.
20. I used to want to be a lawyer, from the time I was in the 2nd grade until I was a freshman in high school. I credit my "social discovery" for changing my mind. I realised that I really love people, I love observing and noting and describing and prying and reading people. LOVE IT. People are so fascinating, how they're always shifting and changing. It never gets old. And they all FEEL! And THINK! It's amazing, the variety. So yeah, now I want to be a mental doctor, not a vampire.
21. I've dipped my toes into just about any sport you can name, but eventually, after years of dissatisfaction, I decided that I'm a big fan of racquetball. Mostly because something about being trapped in a giant, white room makes me think of a pscyhological torture game, but also, I find the echo to be appealing. It's like a dog chasing a fish around in a pool; you know you're limited, and you also know the fish is never that far away. In a racquetball court, you can almost always get to the ball in a few quick steps. And because it's a very bouncy ball in a very solid room, the game goes on long after you're gone.
22. I spend a fair amount of time on Facebook. It's a great way to keep in touch with people that you wouldn't see or talk to on a daily basis. I think all the little people in life really count. Each one is different, each one has a different purpose. It's soothing and stimulating for me to watch other peoples' lives play out. It's like a real-life soap opera/sitcom/romance/action flick. Brilliant plot twists.
23. I will NOT dance at any dance. I will slow dance, but that's about it. Otherwise, I'll have paramedics swarming me because the only dance I can do is the Seizure Dance!
25. I can't shave worth a crap. You could buy me the best razor, the best shaving cream, and enough time to make a diamond, but it wouldn't make a difference. I ALWAYS miss a spot. There's always a little patch that I have to go back over. I hate it. I am so incompetent. And gross.
26. As if I wasn't gross enough, I bite my nails. I've been biting them since I had teeth. It's just kind of an old habit. They never have a chance.
27. Old habits are EXTREMELY hard to break. My dearest friends will know what habits I'm referring to. Let's just say...the chances are slim that I'll trim the old habits away.
28. I wear a size 4 shoe. Do you know how impossible is it to find a size 4 anywhere? Kid sizes ended around 3, and woman sizes start around 6. I rarely find a good 4 or 5. Luckily, my mom, sister, and I all wear the same size, so that takes the total pair count to around 150 pairs of SHOES!
29. I bet I know more people than you. Well, maybe. All of my Facebook friends are my real friends in real life. I don't add people I haven't met. It's better, safer that way.
30. I can almost always identify what radio songs are rip-offs from older songs. Did you really think half the crap on today's radio is ORIGINAL? Ha! No way; the music was so much better the first time around.
31. I really don't like cake. Or cupcakes. Or brownies. I really don't like bready desserts. Nor do I like icing/frosting. It's gross. Pure gooey sugar. See #15.
32. I can put together a mean puzzle like it's nothing. I LOVE puzzles. If you're gonna get me anything for Christmas, get me a PUZZLE! I seal them and keep them forever, so I'm always needing new ones. I think they're totally fun and never boring. I know, I'm a loser. With way too much time.
33. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm totally self-deprecating? I put myself down a lot, but in reality, I don't know if I mean it or not. I mean, I suck at a lot of stuff, but I'm pretty good at some things, too. Okay, now I'm rambling.
34. I have a very abrasive sense of humour, and if you don't like it, you can go papercut your eyeballs.
35. But I'm actually a nice person. I'm not good at showing it AT ALL, but I try! I often come off as very lovey-dovey or very cruel. Just be patient with me; I'm learning how to be consistent.
36. I pay exceptional attention to detail. If you tell me anything, even once in passing, I almost always remember it. Stuff like addresses, preferences, and directions. It just sticks with me. The only things I'm bad at remembering are numbers. I won't often remember your house number, your phone number, or your year of birth. But I can remember most else. It's an odd talent of mine.
37. I don't like wearing socks. I hate 'em. I wear flip-flops almost every day, every season, so I find socks to be incredibly...restrictive. There's no freedom to be had! In fact, I wear flip-flops so much, I have very visible tan lines on my feet. It's kinda cute...and kinda sad.
38. I am fiercely independent. I HATE HATE HATE group projects. I really feel as though the only way it'll get done right is if I personally do it myself. The more people you work with, the more error-prone you are. Also, every time I have ever been group leader, my group has made above a 95% on the assignment. The ONE TIME I wasn't the leader, we got an 86%. See what a difference it makes? I MUST lead. It's an inborn desire for me. I am SO Type A.
39. I'm aggressive. The word "passive" doesn't even exist in my personality. I am never passive. I am always the aggressor, the pursuer, the go-getter, the chaser, the scorer, the winner, the competitor. I am not content to sit back and watch anything go by. Not people, not opportunities, not time.
40. Which, as you can imagine, makes me a worrisome individual. I worry about everything, even stuff that has nothing to do with me. In my worry, I furrow my brows, tug at my eyelashes, pop my fingers, pluck my arm hair, bite my nails. I'm a nasty-looking trainwreck disaster! I worry way too much, but I wouldn't consider myself a stressed out person. My parents thoroughly disagree. But what do they know?
41. I bruise easily. Which is bad, because I'm not very coordinated. I've got bruises on my knees, my hips, my elbows, my back, my ribs...you'd think I was abused or something. But nope, I'm just a clumsy fool.
42. If I seem to ask direct, focused questions on one particular topic, it's probably because of a boy. For example, if I ask questions like "Have you ever wakeboarded? Did you enjoy it? Would you recommend it? How hard is it? Do you know anybody else who wakeboards? Would you consider yourself a fanatic?", then it's almost certainly because I like a boy who wakeboards. Why else would I be so interested in something so inconsequential?
43. Naturally, I'm one of those annoying people who MUST KNOW EVERYTHING. I ask way too many questions, read way too many Wikipedia articles, and familiarise myself with too many different subjects. I'm insane. Of course, I know it's impossible to know everything, but the more, the better. I can have a fluent conversation with just about anybody about at least one thing. It's a nifty skill to have.
44. I can quote Zoolander word for word. From memory. I've seen it upwards of 50 times. It is definitely my favourite movie. And yes, I know it's ridiculously stupid. But I love it. I like stupid things.
45. I prefer taking left turns as opposed to right turns. I'm always afraid of hitting the curb on right turns, but with left turns, you have a lot of freedom to go faster, turn sharper, whatever. It's liberating.
46. I have astigmatism. This means I have depth perception problems because of the shape of my retina (among other factors). This, combined with my nearsightedness and general ignorance, resulted in me ripping the right sideview mirror off of my car after backing out too close to the garage wall. I cried for an hour straight, after which my then-boyfriend brought me a milkshake to make me feel better. I should rip my mirrors off more often.
47. But I swear I'm not a bad driver. I switch lanes like Michael Jackson cuts a rug, and I love accelerating to get onto the highway, but that's about all the reckless I am.
48. This is probably the most important thing in this entry: I HATE KIDS. Little, ankle-biting heathens. Hate 'em. They're smelly, they're expensive, they're loud, they're annoying, they're attention-stealers, they're pudgy, they're uncoordinated, they're unintelligent, and ALL THEY DO IS POOP. I hate kids. They're basically useless and irritating until they hit puberty, and then they get a little more interesting, a little smarter, a little more realistic. I love teens. Hate kids. Always have. The most I would be willing to have is one, and it'd better be a boy, or I quit life. I would consider adopting, of course, but even then, I'd adopt a preteen, thereby skipping the "pooping excessively" stage of life.
49. I think drinking is stupid. Of course, I do enjoy a nice Cabernet Sauvignon (what a cool name for a red wine...only tasted it once, sadly), and I'll reluctantly take a glass of wine (my dad always buys this excellent Riesling...the only white wine I can tolerate) or champagne (wedding champagne is excellent...so crisp and fresh), but really, beer and other hard liquors are just a waste of money. I have very little respect for people who drink because they feel they have to in order to socially facilitate themselves. They are incredibly weak-minded. Yes. Even my own mother.
50. Obviously, I speak the blunt, solid truth without remorse. It's one of my...less pleasant qualities. But I find the truth to be extremely necessary. If we all just told the truth more often, well, more of us would be dead, but the rest of us would be exceptionally progressive.
I'm sure there will be more to come after this post. I can't resist blabbing about my pathetic life to whoever will listen. Of course, nobody really cares, except me, and even then,
I'm losing interest in myself.
02 August 2009
habitual.
I mentioned in my very first post that I would most often default to writing about myself, since I think I'm only THE SECOND GREATEST THING TO EVER WALK THE PLANET (bested only by the mighty tyrannosaurus rex, and you just can't beat that).
I don't actually think that way about myself, but I'd venture to say that I'm mildly interesting?
In any case, let me walk you through a summer day in the life of, well, me.
6:15 - Wake up involuntarily. I'm a creature of habit.
6:20 - Alarm goes off. Usually a song by U2.
6:35 - After three songs by U2 ("Where the Streets Have No Name", "Sunday Bloody Sunday", and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"), haul my lazy butt out of bed. Songs last approximately 15 minutes...an adequate snooze.
6:40 - After sleepily deliberating what to wear for the day, make my way slowly to the shower. Some people have snidely asked me before if I pick out my clothes in the dark. The answer is, well, YES. What did you expect? A personal dresser?
6:41 - Tune radio to 107.9 to catch the weather. I know, I know, it's old people music, from our parents' generation, but A LITTLE DISCO NEVER HURT ANYBODY. A day started without listening to Guy and Jennifer in the morning is a BAD DAY. Also, I use the bathroom before showering. Muy importante.
6:43 - Step into the shower after undressing and placing the day's clothes in a convenient, chronological order that facilitates quick dressing.
6:45 - Enjoy two minutes of hot water, then begin washing body. Wash everything twice.
6:51 - Wash face, first with exfoliating scrub, then with cleansing gel. I dunno know why I bother; I break out from stress anyway.
6:54 - Apply shampoo to hair. Massage scalp for the duration of one song, usually an Elton John song by this time.
6:57 - Rinse shampoo out.
6:58 - Apply conditioner. Leave in for the duration of usually a commercial break.
7:00 - Step out of shower, squeaky clean and freezing cold. You know how some people manage to exit the shower and look all flushed and refreshed? Not me. I look like a sick, shaking rat. There is NO rejuvenation going on. Only shivering.
7:02 - Dress after completely drying off, with a large towel for the body and a small towel for the hair. Dress in such order: unmentionables (underwear/bra...why'd I just mention them if they're supposed to be unmentionable?), pants, and undershirt (overshirt comes after brushing teeth, so as to avoid errant toothpaste flecks).
7:03 - Comb through hair, drying with towel as I go. Watch the ends of my fried hair snap off.
7:04 - Dry hair with large bristle brush. The one with the broken handle. Oh the disadvantages of having a little sister. Hmmm.
7:10 - Begin parting and straightening hair with comb and small plastic-bristled brush to prevent breakage. Usually fail and snap off half of hair anyway. I lose a lot of hair in one day. Usually finish in time to listen to the Celebrity Scoop without having to hear my hair crackle as I straighten it.
7:20 - Brush teeth for the duration of one song, usually a Michael Buble song if Jennifer's in a good mood.
7:23 - Put on main shirt/blouse/top, apply deodorant shortly after. Contemplate eating breakfast. Cereal never sounds appealing that early in the morning. Maybe a bagel...but we never have bagels. Disappointing.
7:24 - Deliberate the wearing of jewelry and what shoes to wear. I'm a big fan of both, but I rarely wear a lot of jewelry, and I only wear a few of my 40 pairs of shoes. It's excessive...excessively ridiculous!
7:26 - Decide to skip breakfast and get on Facebook instead. Harass the snot out of some online friends. Regret this later, around 9:45.
7:45 - Realise I'm probably going to be late for work. Rush out the door after mixing a quick water with a Propel packet. This will serve as breakfast. Flavoured water. Yum.
8:00 - Clock in.
4:00 - Clock out.
4:12 - Use the bathroom immediately after getting home. Get back on Facebook. Talk to mom about my day. Work on any projects I've got going (puzzles, drawings, music, essays, that sort of nonsense). Play a computer game, possibly some Plants vs. Zombies, if I'm in a bad mood. I'll write if I'm in a good mood. And maybe I'll eat. Not all in that order. The only thing I do at the same time every day is go to bathroom. My mom knows to get out of my way until I've had time to go. I'm cranky when I have to go. And I only pee twice a day, so you'd think I could get some respect during the two times I do need relief.
5:15 - Dad gets home. I say hi and we hug. Always.
6:00 - Dinner, usually.
6:45 - Back down to the Bat Cave (computer nook in the concrete part of our basement), unless my family decides to watch House or play cards/games together. It happens sometimes. Or we'll rent a movie. Usually a comedy.
8:30 - Start feeling tired.
9:00 - Really tired.
9:30 - Start attempting to rip myself out of the Bat Cave.
9:59 - See that it's almost 10. Give up and go two floors up to my bedroom.
10:02 - Put on pajamas. Shorts with a t-shirt. Very sexy, I know...NOT.
10:03 - Brush teeth and put in retainer (sometimes). Put on the most essential beauty item ever invented by man: CHAPSTICK (my only beauty product, sadly).
10:06 - Turn on the fan, turn on my bedlamp, turn off the main lights, climb up into bed. Usually slip going up a step. This usually hurts. A lot. I'm always bruised!
10:08 - Start reading.
12:30 - Finally put down the book and go to sleep.
Yeah. I told you I was a creature of habit. My days are, for the most part, pretty organised. They tend to revolve around work and meals, and occasionally, sleep. That's just my summer schedule so far. School is different. I tend to go to sleep a little earlier (or a lot later, depending on if I have a lot of homework), and I'll go out more with friends. There's usually less computer time during the school year. I also usually throw in more social time during the school year.
I'm early to rise, and late to retire. I've been known to take phone calls and texts in the shower, too. I know, pretty stupid, but hey, I'm young. That's not really an excuse, but that's what I like to tell myself to make myself feel better about taking mindless, potentially expensive risks.
If anybody ever feels like tearing my routine apart, please do. I love surprises like phone calls from old friends, texts from travellers, and mail from new people (NOT from colleges and credit cards...that stuff sucks). The easiest way to make me happy is to come over announced. Ballsy, but worth it! I really like people. The more people in my day, the better! I love extensive communication. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone else is preoccupied doing whatever it is they do during the day, and I'm left to socially fend for myself.
But don't feel sorry for me;
That's what Facebook's for!
I don't actually think that way about myself, but I'd venture to say that I'm mildly interesting?
In any case, let me walk you through a summer day in the life of, well, me.
6:15 - Wake up involuntarily. I'm a creature of habit.
6:20 - Alarm goes off. Usually a song by U2.
6:35 - After three songs by U2 ("Where the Streets Have No Name", "Sunday Bloody Sunday", and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"), haul my lazy butt out of bed. Songs last approximately 15 minutes...an adequate snooze.
6:40 - After sleepily deliberating what to wear for the day, make my way slowly to the shower. Some people have snidely asked me before if I pick out my clothes in the dark. The answer is, well, YES. What did you expect? A personal dresser?
6:41 - Tune radio to 107.9 to catch the weather. I know, I know, it's old people music, from our parents' generation, but A LITTLE DISCO NEVER HURT ANYBODY. A day started without listening to Guy and Jennifer in the morning is a BAD DAY. Also, I use the bathroom before showering. Muy importante.
6:43 - Step into the shower after undressing and placing the day's clothes in a convenient, chronological order that facilitates quick dressing.
6:45 - Enjoy two minutes of hot water, then begin washing body. Wash everything twice.
6:51 - Wash face, first with exfoliating scrub, then with cleansing gel. I dunno know why I bother; I break out from stress anyway.
6:54 - Apply shampoo to hair. Massage scalp for the duration of one song, usually an Elton John song by this time.
6:57 - Rinse shampoo out.
6:58 - Apply conditioner. Leave in for the duration of usually a commercial break.
7:00 - Step out of shower, squeaky clean and freezing cold. You know how some people manage to exit the shower and look all flushed and refreshed? Not me. I look like a sick, shaking rat. There is NO rejuvenation going on. Only shivering.
7:02 - Dress after completely drying off, with a large towel for the body and a small towel for the hair. Dress in such order: unmentionables (underwear/bra...why'd I just mention them if they're supposed to be unmentionable?), pants, and undershirt (overshirt comes after brushing teeth, so as to avoid errant toothpaste flecks).
7:03 - Comb through hair, drying with towel as I go. Watch the ends of my fried hair snap off.
7:04 - Dry hair with large bristle brush. The one with the broken handle. Oh the disadvantages of having a little sister. Hmmm.
7:10 - Begin parting and straightening hair with comb and small plastic-bristled brush to prevent breakage. Usually fail and snap off half of hair anyway. I lose a lot of hair in one day. Usually finish in time to listen to the Celebrity Scoop without having to hear my hair crackle as I straighten it.
7:20 - Brush teeth for the duration of one song, usually a Michael Buble song if Jennifer's in a good mood.
7:23 - Put on main shirt/blouse/top, apply deodorant shortly after. Contemplate eating breakfast. Cereal never sounds appealing that early in the morning. Maybe a bagel...but we never have bagels. Disappointing.
7:24 - Deliberate the wearing of jewelry and what shoes to wear. I'm a big fan of both, but I rarely wear a lot of jewelry, and I only wear a few of my 40 pairs of shoes. It's excessive...excessively ridiculous!
7:26 - Decide to skip breakfast and get on Facebook instead. Harass the snot out of some online friends. Regret this later, around 9:45.
7:45 - Realise I'm probably going to be late for work. Rush out the door after mixing a quick water with a Propel packet. This will serve as breakfast. Flavoured water. Yum.
8:00 - Clock in.
4:00 - Clock out.
4:12 - Use the bathroom immediately after getting home. Get back on Facebook. Talk to mom about my day. Work on any projects I've got going (puzzles, drawings, music, essays, that sort of nonsense). Play a computer game, possibly some Plants vs. Zombies, if I'm in a bad mood. I'll write if I'm in a good mood. And maybe I'll eat. Not all in that order. The only thing I do at the same time every day is go to bathroom. My mom knows to get out of my way until I've had time to go. I'm cranky when I have to go. And I only pee twice a day, so you'd think I could get some respect during the two times I do need relief.
5:15 - Dad gets home. I say hi and we hug. Always.
6:00 - Dinner, usually.
6:45 - Back down to the Bat Cave (computer nook in the concrete part of our basement), unless my family decides to watch House or play cards/games together. It happens sometimes. Or we'll rent a movie. Usually a comedy.
8:30 - Start feeling tired.
9:00 - Really tired.
9:30 - Start attempting to rip myself out of the Bat Cave.
9:59 - See that it's almost 10. Give up and go two floors up to my bedroom.
10:02 - Put on pajamas. Shorts with a t-shirt. Very sexy, I know...NOT.
10:03 - Brush teeth and put in retainer (sometimes). Put on the most essential beauty item ever invented by man: CHAPSTICK (my only beauty product, sadly).
10:06 - Turn on the fan, turn on my bedlamp, turn off the main lights, climb up into bed. Usually slip going up a step. This usually hurts. A lot. I'm always bruised!
10:08 - Start reading.
12:30 - Finally put down the book and go to sleep.
Yeah. I told you I was a creature of habit. My days are, for the most part, pretty organised. They tend to revolve around work and meals, and occasionally, sleep. That's just my summer schedule so far. School is different. I tend to go to sleep a little earlier (or a lot later, depending on if I have a lot of homework), and I'll go out more with friends. There's usually less computer time during the school year. I also usually throw in more social time during the school year.
I'm early to rise, and late to retire. I've been known to take phone calls and texts in the shower, too. I know, pretty stupid, but hey, I'm young. That's not really an excuse, but that's what I like to tell myself to make myself feel better about taking mindless, potentially expensive risks.
If anybody ever feels like tearing my routine apart, please do. I love surprises like phone calls from old friends, texts from travellers, and mail from new people (NOT from colleges and credit cards...that stuff sucks). The easiest way to make me happy is to come over announced. Ballsy, but worth it! I really like people. The more people in my day, the better! I love extensive communication. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone else is preoccupied doing whatever it is they do during the day, and I'm left to socially fend for myself.
But don't feel sorry for me;
That's what Facebook's for!
01 August 2009
purposeful.
After a series of failed blog attempts, I have decided to finally COMMIT...goodness knows I have commitment issues. The sweet thing is, this blog won't abandon me, right? RIGHT? Of course, now that I said that, the Web is going to collapse, sending me back to pen and paper (which I wouldn't mind), and then I'll have to revert to tablet and chisel when the world's supply of trees and dye runs out. Operating with limited resources sounds like fun right now, actually. Whatever happened to quills and ink pots and parchment? I mean really. Everything today is TOO convenient.
Sorry. I digress.
I guess I should begin the kickoff of this blog with a brief description of what I wish to achieve with it and a short summary of why I started it. Break out the celebratory champagne, because from here on out, it's going to be an interesting ride.
Basically, I want this to be a space where I can rant freely about whatever the devil I please. For a better description, check the light blue tag line that runs across the top of the page. Also, this will be a more open forum in which I can post my essays. I don't really consider myself to be all that great an essayist (this blog post is not indicative of my hidden talent!), but that's the beauty of being able to write every day: I'll get better. I think this blog will be beneficial because it'll give me a quick place where I can go to flex my writing muscles (physical and mental). Like right now. I'm doing some serious flexing.
Now, I can't guarantee that what I write will always be interesting, or serious, or intelligent, or sympathetic. More often than not, I'll probably write about myself (how un-fascinating) and my sordid affairs. Since I know myself better than anybody else, I will most likely use "me" as a default topic. At least that way, I'll never run out of things to write about!
So allow me in advance to write about stupid, boring, funny, and downright retarded things. I'm not here to step on anyone's toes or challenge anyone's beliefs, I'm just here to satisfy my craving for creation. Writing's one of the only things that can satisfy that desire. Photography and sketching are the only other two ways I enjoy fulfilling my artistic urges. Maybe I'll share some of those works with you, too, eventually. For now, though, let's delight in the simple written word.
Forgive me, also, for any errors in punctuation, capitalisation, vocabulary, and spelling that can and inevitably will occur. Nothing's perfect, myself included! Oh, and just a forewarning: I really really really hate contractions, but sometimes, in the interest of time or context, I'll use them fluidly. I know they are SO unremarkable and can be distracting or too conversational, but if they get the job done, I'll take 'em.
I believe this concludes my first post. It feels so un-epic. Like a bad disclaimer that nulls the possibility of anything good coming from the deal. What a cheap rip-off. Sorry?
Sorry. I digress.
I guess I should begin the kickoff of this blog with a brief description of what I wish to achieve with it and a short summary of why I started it. Break out the celebratory champagne, because from here on out, it's going to be an interesting ride.
Basically, I want this to be a space where I can rant freely about whatever the devil I please. For a better description, check the light blue tag line that runs across the top of the page. Also, this will be a more open forum in which I can post my essays. I don't really consider myself to be all that great an essayist (this blog post is not indicative of my hidden talent!), but that's the beauty of being able to write every day: I'll get better. I think this blog will be beneficial because it'll give me a quick place where I can go to flex my writing muscles (physical and mental). Like right now. I'm doing some serious flexing.
Now, I can't guarantee that what I write will always be interesting, or serious, or intelligent, or sympathetic. More often than not, I'll probably write about myself (how un-fascinating) and my sordid affairs. Since I know myself better than anybody else, I will most likely use "me" as a default topic. At least that way, I'll never run out of things to write about!
So allow me in advance to write about stupid, boring, funny, and downright retarded things. I'm not here to step on anyone's toes or challenge anyone's beliefs, I'm just here to satisfy my craving for creation. Writing's one of the only things that can satisfy that desire. Photography and sketching are the only other two ways I enjoy fulfilling my artistic urges. Maybe I'll share some of those works with you, too, eventually. For now, though, let's delight in the simple written word.
Forgive me, also, for any errors in punctuation, capitalisation, vocabulary, and spelling that can and inevitably will occur. Nothing's perfect, myself included! Oh, and just a forewarning: I really really really hate contractions, but sometimes, in the interest of time or context, I'll use them fluidly. I know they are SO unremarkable and can be distracting or too conversational, but if they get the job done, I'll take 'em.
I believe this concludes my first post. It feels so un-epic. Like a bad disclaimer that nulls the possibility of anything good coming from the deal. What a cheap rip-off. Sorry?
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