Kittens! (and More About KRAZY KOLLEGE)

**Yes, I will purposefully murder the spelling of words that would otherwise start with a C simply for the sake of alliteration. Your point?**


So, this commercial. It can only be described as trippy. That's pretty much the bottom line of that. Weirdly... plain weird. Psychedelic even. Good job, cat-food marketing department. Maybe it's because I don't own a cat, but I do not understand this at all. Alice in Wonderland-esque? But for cats? The use of mind-altering substances is questionable, but the message gets across, yes? Cat eats food. Food acts as a magical portal into vibrant world of extremely colorful hallucinations*

Yay.

In other news, I am quite enjoying today, having gotten up early** of my own accord, done nothing mindfully or physically strenuous, and am looking forward to several more days of essentially the same thing. Spring/Easter Break w00t.*** As a comment to Vita's post, all I have to say is that I feel really terrible when the subject of colleges is brought up, because I kind-of-sort-of know what I want to major in, not what the entire rest of my academic life is going to be including the exact college I want to get into. Nor do I know like FER SURE that one test taken in November of freshman year will determine whether Harvard will REJECT ME FOR LIFE OOOOH NOOO. (Or the more favorable opposite of that.) Seriously. On the day the results of said test were given out (with a list thing of colleges we could possibly get into based on our scores) a few people in my counselor-group were IN TEARS. WTF? Chill. These are smart, extra-curicular-participating people. You are not going to die.

Footnotes!

*Are there any other kinds of hallucinations? Black and white hallucinations?
** Er, 8:30
***It can't really be called Easter Break, what with being a religious holiday not everyone celebrates, but the administration conveniently arranges it around the week of Easter. For obvious reasons. I live in a very, very predominately Christian suburb that makes sad, sad attempts at diversity/awareness etc. A bit of an aside (maybe I'm just being cynical, maybe I'm just trying to prove a point. I'll let you decide):

Near Winter Break, I was talking to a girl in my Spanish class. I said "winter break", she got confused and corrected me,
"You mean Christmas Break?"
*similar point about different religions and so on*
"Oh, that doesn't matter. Like, the entire world is Christian anyway."
"...?"
"I mean, like the highest percentage of the world is Christian. *Almost* everyone."
"I'm pretty sure it's Hinduism. Or Islam. The population of India is higher than the US, even though the US has a high percentage of Christians..."
".....?"



Want more kittens? :)

Zoo Life

My mom says that I didn't like the zoo when I was little. She says it was probably because there was too much walking involved. I think it was probably a combination of that and the fact that to my five year old mind, there was little payoff for all the effort. You stare at a bored and confined animal for a couple of minutes and then you leave. What's the point?

Ten years later, I simultaneously love and hate the zoo, or rather the whole idea of a zoo. It's genuinely interesting to see wild animals up close; I would never have the opportunity elsewhere. Still, it seems somewhat cruel to lock up those wild animals in a space that is one hundredth, or maybe one thousandth, of where they would live if they were in the wild. Sure, they get a good diet and health care (isn't it funny how animals get better health care than people?), but how much does that mean when you're basically a prisoner? I'd rather take my chances in the real world than be guaranteed food and medical care in a jail. One on hand, it's an intensely euphoric moment to realize that a lion is only 30 feet away from you. It's equally depressing to realize that that lion ought to be three thousand miles away from you.

Also: did anyone else not know who Ricky Martin was before today? Does anyone else fail to understand why people are so excited about the fact that he's gay? So are 100 million other people. How exciting.

Also also: Did you know that John Green went to Kenyon College? This makes me want to go there at least ten times more. This also makes me feel like there's a bigger chance of me being extremely disappointed if I don't get in, which is quite likely (they accept 440 students per year. JESUS).

Related: are you guys starting to get sort of, how should I say, freaked out about applying to college? I was never too concerned about it in middle school or even last year but when I hear people talking about how they've known they wanted to go to XYZ college since they were ten years old, I get nervous. Maybe it's because I go to a school that has an IB program and some of those parents are on the pushy side (i.e. THEY ARE REALLY PUSHY). I don't know, I just feel like I should have been more concerned with college when I was younger, even though the logical part of my brain is saying "that is bullshit; people who have not yet hit teenagerdom should not be in any way concerned with which college they will attend." Look at Rory from Gilmore Girls. She wanted to go to Harvard her WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE, and did she go there? NO. She voluntarily CHOSE Yale instead. And while I don't even want to go to an Ivy League college (even if I had a chance of getting in - which I don't - I wouldn't want to), it goes to show that things change and everyone should CHILL THE FUCK OUT accordingly.

I am tired and sleepy

Yes, it is possible to be both tired and sleepy without being redundant. My body is tired from waking up at 7:30 for the past SEVEN DAYS (!!!!!!) and from tramping around Vancouver today* and my mind is tired from functioning early in the morning for the past seven days.

I have to go right now and shower because tomorrow is my last early morning but I will definitely probably edit this tomorrow. Look forward to my commentary on how eating breakfast at 7:45 sucks.

*seriously, Vancouver is practically my home. I just wrote mom instead of home. That's how sleepy I am... I learned in my writing class today that ellipses are overused. Suckas...

EDIT:

The second I'm finished this, I am going to do some school. You know what that means...? Lunchtime.

I was quite confused when I saw Rena's* tweet about how she was following suit by not blogging because I swore I wrote a blog on Thursday and I had. Apparently, I didn't post it, which shows you just how tired I was at the end of the week.

So I've been a TA for Japanese students... I kind of wrote this on Thursday. But anyway, I've been getting up at 7:30 and getting on the bus and then being at school for seven hours. I have a couple issues with being at school for seven hours.

1. Having to wake up before I actually would like to.
2. Having to eat breakfast at 7:45 and not being able to eat lunch until 12pm.
3. Having to sit at a table for most of seven hours.

I don't even know how you school children do that. EVERY weekday of your life from age five to eighteen. No wonder everyone loves summer so much. I feel really spoiled as a home schooler now.

Anyway, enough about that. I missed what I'm sure was an awesome slam poetry show last night which reminded me that Rachel made a video for our collab channel LivingroomNinjas on Friday where she read a poem by Shayne Koyczan and all of this led me to want to tell you to listen to this poem now.

So hi. I've seen Shayne, who performed at the opening ceremony of the Olympics, once and that was at the Vancouver Readers and Writers Festival. He performed a couple pieces all of which were stupendous but one of which stuck with me especially and that one was Stop Signs. It was a beautiful poem and funny too and listening to it gives me shivers. I know it's long (seven minutes--ah!) but I think it's worth listening too and I really hope that you do.

Here's some linkage. Seriously, you have to listen to this poem.

The thing about slam is that it's not read on a page poetry. Whatever idea of poetry you may hold, slam is different. It's still poetry but it's spoken word, meant to be expressive and told, not flat on a piece of paper. If you ever have an opportunity to see it, you should. It's amazing.

I'm out. Listen to Stop Signs and think about how awesome it would be to have someone around who just wanted to be around you forever and make you happy which is what I think about when I read about how much Quentin loves Margo in Paper Towns.

A few quotes in case you don't listen to it:

"I’m willing to pay interest on the penny for your thoughts
Mortgage my mind finance an expedition that
would find me a better way to get to know you"

"I wanna give you a lump of coal for Christmas
and tell you, in a million years it's gonna be a diamond

and will you wait for me til then?"

"And I admit it, I’m committed.

Everything I’ve done I did it to make you smile

Cos it’s been the largest part of a long while
Since I had someone do that for me."

*I can't keep myself from pronouncing your name Ree-na even after I learned that it's Ren-a. It is Ren-a, right?

Hypothetical Screenplay-thing

Blatantly stealing idea from Alex, but at least it's applicable. 9 days, and I'm considerably more psyched than I was in October. Then it seemed like this huge, looming deadline of NOT FUN. Now that I know I can do it, (somewhat) I'm ready to just start and I'm not (as) afraid to see where it goes.*

But, based on my "influences"** I can say generally that it's going to be a little nerdy-romantic-comedy-ish meets Monty Python, with Hayao Miyazaki-ish scenery*** Kind of. Also, school has become "that place we go for 8 hours a day to meet the hours requirement set by the district or some such authority instead of actually learning things****.", because spring break is coming up. So that means I have a week to devote all my waking hours to it instead of having to do actual schoolwork much. This I quite like.

*Transition into lengthy comment on Vita's post, thus it can be inferred that I don't have many original ideas today...*

Hmmm. I must have an awesome spam-filter then because I only get emails from people I actually converse with, and the stupid Twitter notifications. "Ingrid_xxx is now following you on Twitter!" Yes, Twitter. I know. The majority of my followers are pornbots. Don't rub it in, I don't block them because they make me look like I have more followers, which makes me look significant and interesting. Don't take that away from me, Twitter.

Or, you may be implying that I am subject to this bombardment after I start really looking at colleges. DO NOT WANT. (Protect the poor, innocent freshman...)

Footnotes!

* I could just be in denial over this, but it's contented denial.

** This sounds so much more acceptable than "I like this movie. I'm going to imitate it a little, twist it around by its neck until it dies and mash it with other things until it becomes *almost* unrecognizable.

*** No disrespect to any of the above. What I really mean is, I'll probably have a logical, if dull, plot for awhile and then get bored with it halfway through and just stick bits like this in for fun and a few extra pages of script. (At least I'm being self-aware.) In the case of the former, it was presumably meant as, like, deliberate surrealism. So pretty much in that vein, but for lack of better ideas. With awesome scenery. (Probably easier to manipulate it animated, but still.)

**** I take that back. Currently we're learning about the many ways to smash eggs when they are dropped from long distances upward.

don't even know

Everything that comes out of my mouth (or off of my fingers) is bound to be negative/whiny/generally unpleasant to read. THUS, spam mail that I have recently received:

- "You May Qualify for Bankruptcy!" (Pretty sure I'm not bankrupt. But thanks anyway.)

- "Your Credit Score is Updated" (NOT APPLICABLE)

- "Upgrade to a Portable Oxygen Concentrator Today" (This implies that I already have something of that sort with which I COULD upgrade, but sadly, I don't. Also, what the hell is a portable oxygen concentrator?)

- [SO MANY from the Nerdfighter's Ning saying "so and so is now a member of Harry Potter Nerds on Nerdfighters!" I love you, Nerdfighteria, but I REALLY DO NOT CARE. Is there a way to turn this off?]

SO MANY RUDE/SCARY EMAILS FROM COLLEGES

- "I'm surprised, Vita" [email reads: Vita, I thought I'd have heard from you by now. PLZ SEND IN UR REKWST 4 INFO PAKETTTT*!!!!!!! OKAY, well, maybe you should just LEAVE ME ALONE then]

- "Is this your email address, Vita?" [SHUT UP]

- "I need to reach Vita" [then find a goddamn phone book and STOP IT]

- "If there were a hidden camera, Vita..." [And now we are entering the realm of creepy. Dear God, I hope Gettysburg College hasn't hidden any cameras in my house...]

Oh, I'm SORRY that I haven't PERSONALLY RESPONDED to your FIFTY THOUSAND EMAILS that all consist of the same thing: a link to your website. HOW CREATIVE OF YOU.

* Perhaps this is not word for word correct. Really though.

The Perils of Cheese

My sister is reading Paper Towns for book club and this makes me very happy. Also, I'm writing a script with my darling sister (my younger one, the one who didn't reject my idea on the spot). All this means I'm happy. FYI, my script is going to be a movie which I'm describing as 500 Days of Summer meets Amelie (which is a French film). This is not what I am here to tell you. What I am here to tell you is that organic food may be pricey but it's ultimately worth it.

You see, last week I promised a group of people that I was only going to eat organic dairy and vegetables this week. This seemed like it would be mostly easy as my family already drinks organic milk (even though it's priced exorbitantly high) and we eat organic yogurt (mmhmm, French vanilla) and mostly buy organic veggies, when they're available.

I hope you all know what organic means and why it's mucho importante, but if not, allow me to tell you. Organic basically implies that a food has been grow (or produced) without genetic modification or insect killing pesticides. It means all natural and healthy. It's important because corporations may say that pesticides aren't harmful to humans but they can be. Let's just say that the cure to cancer may be eating only organic, not that I'm claiming to know the cure for cancer but it's a definite possibility. Pesticide kills more than pests.

Anyway, back to my mission. You see, on day two, I realized that I can't eat any of my usual snacks without cheese so I set out to the grocery store to buy cheese. I wanted to cry as a stood there in front of the organic cheese which was tiny and very expensive. Cheese is already expensive but this cheese was more so. But I took it off the shelf and proceeded to the self check out where I wrung in my purchase and left the store, carrying seven less dollars and a tiny block of cheese. I'm trying to think of something to describe the size but I'm failing to think of any rectangular objects that are the size of my cheese.

I've had a couple slip ups this week but mostly because what am I supposed to do a) when my mother makes me soup that contains non-organic zucchini or b) I go to a friend's house where I have a choice of pumpkin pie, ice cream and a latte none of which contain organic products...? But mostly I've felt good about myself.

The moral of the story is, organics may be a tad more money than crazy mutated food but, if you factor in the health and environmental benefits, you're actually saving yourself a lot. Sorry for the somberness of this. Somber seems like the wrong word but still. I'm trying to impart some knowledge here. Save yourselves!!!

My Dignity Has Left The Building

I want my mommy.

I blame Alex.

I blame...?

Okay, so I'm reading Coraline, (while I still haven't seen the movie, regretfully. Now I don't think I want to, though.) and it has successfully frightened my nearly out of my wits. Just a few minutes ago I was convinced my Internet was hacked by the other mother. I jump at noises. It's 10:17, but everyone else in my household has gone to bed. I should not be reading this at this hour. It's SCARY as hell, but captivating, which is the worst part. It also says on the back cover that it's for "Ages 8 and up". One question:

WHO in their right mind would let an EIGHT YEAR OLD read this?!

But, fine. Okay. Eight-year-olds are possibly much more reasonable than me. This is a comforting fact. Aside from everything that makes me want to throw this book down and keep it out of my line of vision/thought forever, let's focus on the positives:

1. It's well-written.

2. There are illustrations. Who doesn't like books with pictures? Not the graphic novel version. These pictures are scarce, in black and white, and disturbing. Click it. I fucking dare you not to freak out a little.

3. Neil Gaiman is British. (I think I've mentioned that I can't stand it when lists have less than 3 items, but I can't think of a legit third. I really enjoyed Good Omens, which was very dark, certainly, but had many more redeeming qualities. I.e Crowley. Mmm, deadpan Antichrist.)

Maybe my emotions are just a bit heightened at this hour. But still. It's like a common nightmare, one of those dreams you have but then immediately forget after you wake up, left with only an air of what might have happened. Reading this tears open that memory, that you connect with on some subconscious level. And then your subconscious explodes.

And now, if you will excuse me, I have to go finish it. And then maybe sleep with the lights on.

Age and Maturity or Lack Thereof

Today is Thursday and it's a very special Thursday because...

1. I got a temporary job as a teaching assistant for Japanese exchange students. They get in on Sunday and then I get to spend the entire week trying to cram English into their brains and then they go home. Needless to say, I am excited! (Also, who can beat $11/an hour? Buh-bye McDonald's recruiters.)
2. Yesterday was my sister's 1/2 birthday. She is now 13 and a half. Also it was St. Patrick's Day. I love it when holidays involve banishing snakes from Ireland. And drinking, not that I do much of the second. Or the first. *pathetic laugh* (This is my reaction, not any weird cue for you, the reader)
3. I've come to realize that in less than two months I could be on the road driving. This is provided that I pass the 25 question knowledge test in the week following my sixteenth birthday (w00t!) but I've been studying since my oldest sister was sixteen (in other words, for four years) so I'm hoping this dedication will pay off.

Also, about this driving thing, while I am excited to get on the road and have a license, it's seems kind of soon to be behind the wheel. Driving is one of those things that is constantly in the back of your mind as a kid. I remember thinking about how exciting it would be when I turned sixteen and learned to drive. It's a rite of passage, right? And yet, when I envisioned myself in possession of my own car, it was a glamorous image of a red convertible which I'd walk to with perfect hair and click the lock and get in and ride into the sunset. My point is that I was so old in that picture.

I don't feel that old right now. That girl in my nine-year-old mind pulling out of the driveway in that shiny red car is not me. I feel astonishingly young. How did this happen? Sixteen used to be a symbol of independence and maturity. Why do I feel like it's just another birthday in which I'll still feel the exact same as I felt when I was fifteen which is the exact same as I felt when I was fourteen?

Maybe if I get a haircut I'll look more sixteenish. But then again, my hair is already long and 'sixteen hair' feels like it would be long and very straight. I need to move on from this. I can't age myself. I can, however, go shopping for clothes. A new 'sixteen' look. *sigh* I am vain and materialistic. Maybe I can cure myself of this by reading Lord of the Flies.

Does anyone else feel my pain?

Superpowers of Pastry

This is another random prompt blog. I got them from here. W00T. I was going to write about something relevant/interesting, but promptly forgot what it was. Then I was going to blog about some holiday that fell on today, but the most interesting one today is "National Wellderly Day" (The elderly, and the promotion of their wellness. Would be much more exciting if it was a celebration of senior-citizen welders.) So:

-- Name 5 things laying around your computer.
1. A blue pen
2. Lens-cleaning solution
3. Assorted papers.
4. A black Crayola marker, washable, running out of ink.
5. Odd bits of ribbon, several colors.

(I'm typing this on Edmund, not many atypical or personal objects laying around...)

--Describe your wedding dress or bridesmaid dress, or suit, if male.
I haven't had to wear any of them. Not even a bridesmaids dress. Hmmm. When/if I have the occasion to, I doubt it will even be white. Not quite applicable, let us try again:

--What's one skill you've wanted, but don't have?
Hmmm. I have quite a few... does this mean I'm unskilled?
1. Musical ability. Any at all. I'd like to be able to play piano especially. This can be learned, but it doesn't say "something you'd like to LEARN.", I'd rather prefer it to just appear. Piano skillz poof. Want.
2. Superpowers FTW. Again, any superpowers. Not having superpowers French The Llama.
3. Cooking/Baking/Ability to write in frosting. I love eating, I think it would be beneficial if I could prepare complex-type food and not have it turn out crappy. I've burned pasta. Yes, this is indeed a sign of unskilledness. Baking too. Because baked goods are require some of the same skills as cooking, but with desserty results. NOMNOMNOM. Frosting pwns. It's like calligraphy, but with SUGAR. Major pwnage.

-- High school...

And I assume I am supposed to finish that sentence. So, so many things or non-things to say. From the conventional yet brief-and-not-entirely-true-but-still-not-yet-entirely-untrue-generalization "Sucks." to some non-answer about how it's not over yet and my opinion of it is constantly changing, to a cop-out physical description of the building. How about none of the above. I'm tired. Body clock adjustments French The Llama.

education is for the weak

During my thirteen years in the school system, I've come across a lot of reasons to be thankful for school and a lot of reasons to beat it to death with a blunt stick. But what's always pissed me off is how disrespectful some students are to teachers.

Let me make it clear that I KNOW there are some adults who are, frankly speaking, extremely patronizing, extremely condescending, or downright rude to teenagers, for no apparent reason other than that they ARE teenagers. (Okay, we realize that brattiness is one of the attributed characteristics of teenagers, but that doesn't mean all of us are soulless inconsiderate jerkfaces.)

Given that we clearly resent the negative stereotypes, however, it really ought to go both ways. That is, not all adults are the ones as previously described. I'd say that most of my teachers aren't. (I haven't liked all of my teachers, but there's only ever been ONE - out of roughly 35 - that I legitimately wanted fired, and still do, even though it's been four years since I last saw him. And that wasn't because he was condescending towards eleven year olds, it was because he was an actual creepo.) THEREFORE, they do deserve some level of respect, even if it's just for being a teacher in the first place. (Seriously, put yourself in their shoes - I can't even imagine how much patience you must have to have to be a teacher, even a bad one. TOO MANY kids ALL DAY LONG.)

I just hate when you have stupid kids on power trips talking about how much abuse they get from teachers. And by abuse, they mean a teacher tells them off when they're late to class or tells them to stop smoking. OH NO, YOUR LIFE IS SO DIFFICULT.

Okay, I get it, you hate school. But you have to go, so while you're there, can you please try to minimize the amount of complaining you do? Because 85% of it could be resolved if you would just shut the fuck up and realize that your teacher isn't being unfair; they're simply trying to teach. And you won't let them because you think that every little thing you do, every time you wear a hat when you're not supposed to or every time you bring your skateboard to school, is somehow going to change the balance and give you all the power. Or that you're making some sort of statement against authority. In reality, all you're doing is looking like an obnoxious, immature prick, which isn't fun for the rest of us either because it means that we have to sit there and wait for the teacher to finish yelling at you. WASTE OF TIME.

Busy April

It's an on-going joke for me whenever I blog to look down at this 'Labels for this post' bit where the examples of labels for this post is 'scooters, vacation, fall'. When I first saw it, I was thinking "Who writes about scooters?' And then I thought 'Well, I did.'

I seem to remember a blog post where I posted a picture of me on my scooter which was loaded down with sleepover stuff but it could have been one of those situations where I think so much about writing a blog post I convince myself that I've written it. I can't find that post but when you're looking through a list of 274 posts it get's onerous. Am I imagining this post or does anyone remember it? Moving on...

Internal debate of the moment: Should I participate in Script Frenzy* this April?

I have always been an advocate of the 'If you want to do something, you can make time. There's always time to do what you're passionate about' school of thought. Whenever I was talking to people about NaNoWriMo and they'd say stuff like, "Oh, I wish I had enough time to do stuff like that," I would nod and sympathize while secretly thinking, "That's your excuse? You don't have time? Do you think I have time to write 1,167 words a day for a month? No, I don't. But I made time because this is what I want to do so you can stop thinking I'm a layabout home schooler with oodles of time and nothing to do but read fiction and write novels. You're a lame-o wuss. Suck it." So it seems kind of weird for me to be thinking about not doing Screnzy for lack of time. But when I think about it, April is a very busy month. You've got...

1. BEDA, of course. I'm assuming this is still going on but I've heard no word from mj. With my three blogs this shouldn't be that difficult but at the same time, yeah, it's going to be difficult.
2. There are a lot of birthdays in April. Off the top of my head I can think of six close acquaintances. Apparently, July is the time for procreation.
3. School. April is the time when I'll be worried about finishing in time for summer and thus when I'll be cracking the whip on myself.
4. Reading. Will Grayson, Will Grayson comes out and I'll also have another book for my classic challenge. Remind me to pick something light...

This is quite a list. The lure of writing a movie might add one more item to this list.

It's kind of weird for me to want to write a script with all I know about it. I've been to two workshops on the craft and it seems like a pretty lousy part of the film industry from what I've heard. The pay is shit and directors will take your baby and screw with it until your lovely dark comedy turns into Employee of the Month starring Jessica Simpson for Christ's sake.**

And yet, as I watched the Academy Awards on Thursday (so glad Sandra Bullock won Best Actress. I love her.) I couldn't help drafting my own winning speech. It's so tiresome to hear all the thanks although I'm sure it's nice when you're being thanked. I'd probably say something like, "Thanks to everyone who needs to be thanked. You know who you are and if you're confused just consider yourself thanked. It's easier that way." Then I'd say something funny about how I'd been drafting this speech since I was eight.

Then we talked about how I would win this Oscar and I'm over the whole actress thing so, unless I turn into an AV geek, I'm stuck with writing. Or directing. Or cinematography. But I suck at holding a camera and I can write so I think that's my best bet. What accreditation does it take to be a director? If Catherine Hardwicke can do it... just kidding Catherine. Twilight was a good attempt. You have something. Not sure what it is or if I want it but you have it.

I'm thinking I'll write the script anyway. You're allowed to collaborate so I'll twist my sister's arm until she folds to my will. Unless... do either of you want to write a script with me? Google Docs works wonders and it doesn't have to be a movie. It could be a play or a tv show. Scratch that last, I don't want to write a tv show. Think about it.

*Script Frenzy or Screnzy is a internet event put on by the same people who do NaNoWriMo where people are encouraged to write a 100 page script in one month.

**Yes, I met the writer of Employee of the Month. He was a bit upset with the end product.

Whajamacalls

Since I haven't asked before, here's a little survey on your regional slang:

What do you call...?

-- Shoes commonly used in athletic pursuits (My answer: Gym shoes. People who say "tennis shoes" really annoy me. They're used for more than tennis! Given, gym shoes are used outside of gyms, but whatever.)

-- Carbonated, sweet beverages (Soda. "Pop" is the standard here, but I only call it by its full name, "Sodapop" if I'm being old-timey/ironic or referring to The Outsiders.)

-- A large, frankly delicious sandwich, as in Subway ("Submarines", technically, but I say sub. This being the prefix of "SUBway", I say it's right.)

-- The underground room of a house (I didn't know a basement could be called other things, but Wikipedia says otherwise.)

-- Sweet, dessertish round things (Cookies, but "biscuits" are so posh-sounding and British. I enjoy this term and am trying to use it more.)

-- Squares of cement that you walk on outside (It's weird to describe sidewalks without using the word sidewalk. It's a sidewalk.)

Question! (It's been a while since I've asked one, so I thought I should, in keeping with the questiony theme of this post. Note: I almost never say "been" as "bean", but as "bin". Again, "bean" sounds British.)

Have you ever called an American/a northerner a "yankee"?

ARGH ARGH RARGH

I'm scrunched up on the edge of my couch, pressing the keys one by one so as not to wake my mother, who is asleep in the chair opposite mine. We're waiting for my dad to reurn from the airport with my sister, whose flight got delayed by three hours.

Food. Want it. Too loud.

In the quiet, everything seems like a freaking cannon blast.

I could be reading Things Fall Apart for English, but that would require moving from the couch, which is entirely too much effort. It would also require brainpower and I have none. Sleep. Want that, too.

Perhaps because I've got so little of it this week, sleep frequently consumes my mind. Not in the literal sense, like I'm always asleep, but like I'm always thinking about it. That, and food. I swear, 95% of my bad moods are caused by a lack of either of those (usually food). I don't know what that says about me; maybe that I'm animalistic in my goals in life: eat, sleep, don't die. I have other ones too, of course, but those are more or less the driving factors in my motivation for doing stuff. Primarily the first two.

Ah, brain is not working!

Okay, you know how when you're really tired, everything seems to take too much effort? Sometimes I just stand in the bathroom staring at my reflection for ten minutes before I realize that I should probably brush my teeth et all so that I can sleep.

I'm going to go venture into the kitchen in the hopes of finding something yummish. "TTYL," as they say on the interwebs.

(PS, sorry for technically posting this on a Saturday morning - 12:04 a.m. - although the time on this blog is so out of whack with what my time is, in both minutes and hours, that it'll probably show up as 8:00 pm. Iz good.)

Story Time!

I have not looked at Twitter updates since Sunday afternoon and the reason for that is I missed the Academy Awards on Sunday night. The reason for that is I was at my writing course. I've always watched the Academy Awards with my family. We usually get dressed up and eat hors d'oeuvres. This time I missed so I haven't been on Twitter because I didn't want to spoil it for myself. I'm going to my dad's to watch it tonight and then I'll be looking at four days worth of Twitter, something I'm not looking forward to.

So my writing course. This month was storytelling which is awesome. I love telling stories. Writing them down is kind of weird but telling them is awesome. Now I will tell you the story of getting there.

I am rather transit savvy. If I ever take the bus with friends and they have trouble figuring out which side of the ticket to stick in, I laugh knowingly to myself. Number one rule of transit taking is to show up at the stop EARLY. Okay, so maybe this isn't number one. Number one is make sure you know what bus to take. Number two is always have exact change. That would make being early number three. You get the point. It's still important.

Knowing this we probably should have left five minutes earlier. We didn't. What we did do was get a ride with my sister's friend's mom who was coincidentally dropping off my sister's friend. Having been driven, we got there ten minutes early which, although better than being on time and missing the bus, is a bit anticlimactic. The other irritating thing that we realized was that I'd forgotten my homework and Rachel had forgotten her iPod. And so we stood there, not willing to sit down on the wet bench, each with one earphone of my iPod in. Fun times!

Rachel and I have been known to dance on a crowded Sky Train before. This time we refrained. We got on the bus and then stared out the window until we got there. I find that whenever I'm on a bus, no matter what reading material is in my bag, I always want to stare out the window.

I ran up the stairs of the train station, as I always do, and we sat down at the back of the train so we could watch the tracks appearing behind us. It's a simple pleasure. When the Sky Train goes underground, an irony I will never get over, it always reminds me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Harry is... in the Chamber of Secrets. The walls are curved in a circle and the lighting contributes greatly to envisioning a massive basilisk roaming the tunnels. It would probably be killed by the trains that go every four minutes but one can imagine.

We resurfaced with forty five minutes to spare and, not wanting to be early, we ventured into a mall. That was a mistake.

Malls are scary places filled with fingerless mannequins and rabid consumers. We came up through a department store that was like Sears only scarier and posh, then we got the end of it, when we promptly turned around and went back where we came from. Then we sat in Starbucks until we saw the bus go buy in front of us, EARLY. We ran out, got on and then got off at our destination. Very simple.

Cue writing class. I heard two stories, one very profound one by a fellow FreeWriter and another by the session facilitator about a strange man in her house. I read mine to my critiquing partner and it was weird because if I write a story on paper, it's supposed to be read. If I tell a story orally, it's meant to be told. Therefore, reading my story off a piece of paper was weird.

Whatever, then it was over. Class ended late, as per the norm, and so we frantically left building, not knowing where the stop was. Imagine two frantic girls at a orangely lit intersection. We crossed to each corner of the intersection before going back the way we'd come and found the stop in the nick of time.

The ride home felt extraordinarily long and I mostly wrote and stared out the window, this time at blackness.

***

In other news the Eclipse trailer was released today. I'm not sure what to think of it. Let me know what you think... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2HIda5wSVU

Twitter, 141+

You may know this if you follow me on Twitter*, or you may not even if you do. But, on Saturday, I held up to the "Do one thing each day that scares you"** challenge type thing. At least, I take it to be a challenge. It's more like a command, the way it's worded. Since it wouldn't get done if most people had the choice. As a generalization, people stick to the known, the mundane, and the safe. (Boooo... but I'm certainly not going to go trapeezing anytime soon, so who am I to judge? Yay nonfrightening normal daily activities!) A personal feat that is mildly frightening and/or new to me. Variety is the spice of life, so on and so forth...

I did this, not by bullfighting or flambéing things or jumping on top of a parachute being held up by 22 other people***, but by eating a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich.

This was accomplished out of necessity and boredom, always a great combination. Steps:

1. Become hungry.

2. Search for edible foodstuffs that require minimal preparation.

3. Notice peanut butter, with a sad lack of jelly and other conventional ingredients.****

4. Google ideas for other things to put on a Peanut butter sandwich.

5. Results: Tomatoes, Radishes, Sweet Pickles, Raisins, Mayonnaise.

6. Wait until hunger outweighs general feelings of unease.

7. Assemble.

8. Eat.

Conclusion: Really not that bad. I wouldn't eat it again by choice, but it's okay.

(Other random things not suitable for placement in the body of text within this post, as it would be fine and my point would still be clear if I didn't include these bits, but still points worth noting that I thought of while typing the main portion of this, but that would be too long as parenthetical statements, so I indicate them with stars and put them here correspondingly:

AKA FOOTNOTES.)

*A pretty good source of subject matter, seeing as Twitter is kind of a mini-blog, a stack of Post-Its to be reassembled into cohesive thoughts later.

**Eleanor Roosevelt

***The opportunity hasn't presented itself for the former, but I DID decline when people in my Spanish class were looking for the smallest person to lay on one of those parachutes commonly used in elementary-school gym class where everyone would put stuff on top of it and then shake the parachute so as to keep all the objects off of the ground or something. (this was insanely fun, it's nice to have an excuse to do this nowadays.) except this was considerably smaller, and instead of balls or beanbags or those badminton things or paper elephants (en español hoy), they would be tossing MOI. It's not that I don't trust people, I just don't... trust people... with my physical safety much. I can't do that trust exercise thing where you fall backwards into another person's arm, if that's any indication of my issues.

****I have indeed tried it with Nutella, and it's quite magically, mouthgasmically delicious, but it's gone. This needs to be fixed. Also, I really dislike having JUST peanut butter on a sandwich. On both pieces of bread it's kind of too thick-ish. I'm weird, I know.

America's Humble-ish Beginnings

I'm studying for my AP US History unit test at the mo. Here is some of what I have learned this year, condensed:

Once upon a time, the Earth is formed. Shortly thereafter, a fellow called Christopher Columbus discovers what he thinks is India, i.e. America. However, he didn't actually discover this land, and he was also sort of a wimpy bitch, so he doesn't actually matter, and Columbus Day is a stupid holiday that I don't even get off school for.

After a century or two, some Puritans hop on a boat and sail to Plymouth in the hopes of inspiring England to reform its church after seeing this glorious model city... which was thousands of miles away... and tiny... and easy to ignore. The Puritans are a pretty happenin' bunch. For example, they force their citizens to confess their sins in an extremely fun/humiliating/public way before they could become "saints" (church members). Also, Salem has a fun killing spree for a couple of months! GRRR DOWN WITH THE WITCHES! ...Oh, except they weren't actually witches?

It's all good.

More Europeans hop to America and indulge themselves in varying forms of entertainment, such as killing Native Americans. It's a pretty fun party, but sometimes the Native Americans get pissed (crazy, right?) and fight back and kill settlers. And then the settlers attempt to kill twice as many Native Americans. (Continue for the next two hundred years.)

England takes control of the majority of the East Coast and establishes colonies. The colonists are cool with this until some acts are declared, such as the We Can Take All Your Money Under the Guise of Fair Taxes Act. This is not so cool with the colonists, who dump some tea in the ocean and are all GRRRR WAR!

The colonists win this war not so much because they are good at fighting but because they (along with the Spanish and French) somehow outlast the British. Then they create the Articles of Confederation, which is a synonym for Massive Failure. THEN they create the Constitution, and the states are all WHAT THE EFF IS THIS SHIT, but they ratify it anyway.

George Washington is elected president - unanimously - for the first and last time evaaaaaaah, bitches! He offers some sage advice that modern day politicians will try to invoke and largely fail.

Then he leaves office and dies.

Not immediately, nor as a cause/effect type of thing, but still. He dies. Hopefully you knew that there isn't any three hundred year old former president running around.

A Story About Uzbekistan

The capital of which is Tashkent. Care to find out how I know that, and will presumably never forget it? Doesn't matter, you ARE.

In sixth grade, there was the "Geo Bee", a series of tests similar to a spelling bee but with geography questions. After 2 rounds of regular quiz-type things (labeling the states, then labeling the 50 countries with the highest populations.) there was the final round, on stage.

I made it to the stage round, and while I was walking to the gym/auditorium a teacher (whom I didn't know at the time taught 8th grade Social Studies and was frankly jokes.) and I had the following conversation:

Mr. H: "Congratulations on making it this far. Are you nervous?"

M: "Not really. Unless they ask me something hard, like what the capital of Russia is."*

Mr. H: "Moscow."

M: "Erhem... right. But what if they ask me something REALLY hard, like what the capital of Uzbekistan is?"

Mr. H: "I don't even know that one... good question."

Shortly after that, on the round where all the answers were capitals, I got this question:

"After the breakup of the Soviet Union in 1991, this capital of Uzbekistan was the first city to implement a subway system."**

(I guessed Uzbekistania City.)

I was convinced I was clairvoyant for a while after that. And I was also slightly mad at Mr. H for not knowing. THAT ANSWER was the only thing between me and winning a CHOCOLATE CAKE. (but, the next question I would have gotten regarded the former name of Kosovo or something, so I would've been screwed then...) Why had I picked Uzbekistan anyway? It sounded long and confusing, to make up for the stupidity of not knowing the capital of Russia, but I could have just as well picked Sri Lanka, the capital of which I still don't know.***

I'm remembering this incident because I'm rereading Looking For Alaska and marveling at all the things I didn't understand when I read it the first time, when I was 12. (Shortly after this video.)****

I pretty much exemplify John's point, because having read that when I was 12, I have no scarring to my young, impressionable, unable-to-think-critically brain tissue. Sure I didn't *get* it entirely, but that's not a problem, that's the fun of rereading.

Where was I? Yeah. Uzbekistan. Apparently it's a popular capital to quiz people on, because it's confusing and relatively unknown. The Colonel knows the capital of it too.

Footnotes! (longer than usual, prepare yourself.)

*I could never remember if it was Moscow or St. Petersburg.

**Or something like that. It may have been phrased like a Jeopardy question, and it probably had some unnecessary information, like the subway system. Because that sounds harder than "What's the capital of Uzbekistan?"

***With good reason. I looked it up on Wikipedia, it's "Sri Jayawardenapura Kotte" WTF?

****Back in the old days of vlogbrothers, I was pretty much "The Littlest Nerdfighter". A title I wore proudly. I wanted to read it just because it was deemed controversial and (almost) banned. Banned books have a tendency to be awesome, as evidenced by Vita's post.

*****(after a while I looked up a list of challenged books in the US on Wikipedia, this is my reaction...) Oh COME ON. James and the Giant Peach? The Witches? What, The BFG? *scrolls* No, but, The Giver? WHY? Harry Potter, the Bible, that book about gay penguins, *sigh* fine. Ban/challenge/complain/whine about them if you want, but what is so objectionable about How To Eat Fried Worms? All examples that I read when I was fairly young, and Roald Dahl still kicks ass.

That Was Interesting...

Hello!

I got home quite recently and have to leave again in about five minutes and therefore don't have time to write a real blog, but here is an article about what happened at my school today:

http://www.wusa9.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=98082&catid=158

It was simultaneously really frightening and boring. It didn't help that my friend and sat there, in Yearbook, theorizing about the many possibilities of gun assault and if anyone had been shot.

Nobody was. There possibly wasn't even a gun. We were living in fear/boredom for an hour and a half. This would be more interesting if I had more time, but I don't; alas. Moral of the story: don't bring guns to school.

My favorite rumour was that there were three students arrested, two of whom were carrying guns, one of whom was carrying an axe, and all of whom were involved in the raging cocaine/drug war (spoiler: there isn't a raging cocaine/drug war at RM).

It sounded plausible at the time...

Bagels!!

You know this if you stalk me on Twitter, but today I made BAGELS. I don't know about you, but I am something of a bagel aficionado. Maybe it's just carbs I love, but, ever since I can remember eating breakfasts of solid foods, I can remember eating bagels. It is, after all, the best breakfast food.

So today I bravely set forth into No Man's Land in an attempt to pave myself a place in the Bagel Hall of Fame. Is there such a thing? There should be. I would totally go. ROAD TRIP.

I love... wow I can't remember how that sentence was going to end. It could be a myriad of things...

• bagels (is this redundant?)
• my birthday
• cats (especially those who do funny things)
• making subtle jabs at Twilight
• Harry Potter

This list could go on but I was talking about BAGELS so let's get back to that. Why are there so many buts in this blog? I'd stop, but I cannot. By the way is there supposed to be a comma before a but? It seems like there should be.

Look at my bagels! They look real, don't they?

Yes, the bagel in the bottom right corner is a little misshapen but (damnit) all things considered, I think they turned out pretty well. There were more, only I ate them. They were tasty.

I have nothing else much to say. The bagels basically eclipsed everything else that happened today (which was basically nothing, anyway).

One more thing: I'm officially declaring May 10th (which happens to be my birthday--coincidence?) to be CARB DAY! Carb Day is when you eat nothing but carbohydrates and it is a grand excuse for a holiday. Is the a Holiday Registration Centre of some sort? Carb Day is going to be huge. See you on the other side.

This is your brain on ???

**A Public Service Announcement**



Not "you" specifically, the general "you". Which in this case mostly means ME.

Yeah, that lovely shot says 1,000 words, doesn't it? Including:

--"Fuck fuckity fuck fuck..." (ad infinitum)
-- "Ahdjgogmv... must go sleep. Or die. Whichever comes first."
-- "Would this angle be considered camera-whore-y? The PUFF takes up nearly the entire frame."
-- A general look of disgruntledness and unpreparedness over having picture taken, even though subject of photo is the one who TOOK said photo. The *headdesk*-ing is imminent.
-- "God, the lighting sucks. I look a bit like a vampire. Which is fitting. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain where humor is, I may even find this funny. I look like I have no mouth, but am instead bleeding from the middle front region of my head..."
-- "Does my lip always look like that, or can I blame the lighting?"
-- "Will posting this in place of a blog seem like totally narcissistic nonsense?"

Answer: No, stressy brain. Don't worry about that NOW. Now, it's just to prove a point, a point expressed long ago non-personal-photographically. (Like, a whole YEAR ago. Almost. Hey, it's almost BEDA again!) Click it and compare. Though today this was not due to humidity, just my stress-habit of running my fingers out through it...

(When this is posted, Rena will have gained some sanity and, while still using this as a pathetic blog-substitute, will at least be aware of how ridiculous this particular picture/situation is.)

in which I use too many exclamation marks for no reason other than that I am CHIPPER (also for no reason)!

HELLO, DEAR READERS!

So as to keep the boat of life flowing down the same river, if you will, my teachers have yet again assigned me a lot of homeworky shit that I would prefer not to do! But as they say, a leak in the ship doesn't cause total sinkage! And so I am taking the mermaid by the fins and CONTINUING ON!

This morning in the class of our native language (English), we ventured to the mysterious and exciting dwelling also known as the library. As you can imagine, all was not well upon our arrival; namely, about half the computers were marked with the YELLOW PLAGUE* and were thus unfit for usage. THEREFORE, I and some other people were sent to the BOOK AREA to research using NON INTERNET MATERIALS. This was too crazy for us to handle**, so naturally we turned to other entertainment devices.

You know what I'm talking about - a book about banned books! Awesome, am I right or am I right? I LOVE reading banned books lists because, hey, what better way to rub it into book banners' faces that they failed to wipe said book off the face of the Earth than READING THEM, or even better, READING A LIST ABOUT THEM?

Books that were banned:

- The Bible (it IS pretty violent. Also, trippy)
- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (already knew this one, but it's still STUPID!)
- To Kill a Mockingbird (also knew this one. Reasoning: it contains offensive racial material! Big issue with this argument: IT'S A BOOK ABOUT A FUCKING RACIST TOWN***, what do you expect it to be like? "Oh, and THEN we all had a nice BONFIRE and HELD HANDS and SUNG SONGS whilst Atticus whistled in the background and we all supported Tom Robinson WITH OUR HEARTS!" Also if I am correct, and I know I am, the book is criticising racism, not promoting it. Thus: FAILURE on the banners' part)
- The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin!**** (What scandalous secret is Benjamin hiding that I don't know about? AM CURIOUS)

* About half of them had yellow stickers on them, and the libraryish people said we couldn't use the ones with yellow stickers for reasons unknown
** Also I was feeling really lazy! And all of my sources are on the computer! And there were more interesting things to do! YAY!
*** And other things, but you see my point
**** May be called something else, but that's what it is