I really needed to update this. It's been way too long since you have heard any words of wisdom coming from my writing desk. I thought it would be appropriate to make another list for you, perhaps tips for college interviews? But I don't have time to force my witty mind to make you laugh. So, instead, I will be giving a little lecture on NATIONAL FRENCH WEEK!
Yes, it starts NOW!
You will hear French prayers, French music, French phrases. You will see French t-shirts, French posters, and smell the sweet scent of French food if you walk by 112A. Now, cough cough, I have heard, especially this year, a huge amount of DERISION aimed at French people. Now, granted, many of the stereotypes (gorgeous fashion great food ruined economy expensive toilets) are actually true, but some are not. So, you racist high schoolers, make fun of us. We are unflappable. Yeah, we're taking a language which isn't especially useful in the day to day sense, but consider:
1) French is the language of love. We have a built-in advantage in seduction. All we have to say is 'Bonjourrr,' and people interpret it as 'I am smart and ridiculously sexy.' HA, Spanish won't do that for you, and German would be more likely to get you a punch in the face.
2) All those amazing novels and poetry? Written by the French. And they're even better when read in French. Camus actually makes slightly more sense!
3) Yeah, it's nice to travel anywhere, but with French you can go to Paris! The city of cities! Or you can go to Vietnam or Africa or Canada! Anywhere your heart desires, your dream will come true.
4)When studying the French Revolution in a class of Spanish speakers (cough AP Euro cough), it gives you the right to make fun of those students and teacher absolutely SLAUGHTERING the French language. I mean, how many ways can you say 'Jacobins' before it is impossible to keep the laughter in. And I am always puzzled with the difficulty with 'Francois'. Granted, my accent is certainly not perfect, but compared to English, French is a walk in the park to pronounce.
5) Finalement, la nourriture! C'est magnifique! Les crepes, la clafoutis, le fromage...So much!
SO. ENJOY THIS WEEK. ALL OF US FRENCH KIDS WILL. AND YOU ARE REQUIRED TO BE HAPPY IF WE ARE.
Believe me, it's rare that you see me smiling in the halls. Enjoy it while it lasts ;)
Here's some laughable points for you:
"Bouillabaisse is only good because cooked by the French, who, if they cared to try, could produce an excellent and nutritious substitute out of cigar stumps and empty matchboxes."
How many Frenchmen does it take to change a light bulb?
One. He holds the bulb and all of Europe revolves around him.
An old saying: Raise your right hand if you like the French.... Raise both hands if you are French.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Say, Say, Say
I think I can vocalize the thoughts of just about everyone reading this with a single statement: It's been a tough week.
I am, essentially, dead: emotionally, physically, mentally, etc.
So it was a great relief and comfort to me Thursday night when I discovered a certain musician whose soft, optimistic voice had me wondering why Colbie Callait ever became famous with talent like this lurking all over Youtube. In fact, Kesang Marstrand (BEST NAME, btw) popped up on my Melody Gardot Pandora radio, and before I had listened to half of "Bodega Rose," I cycled through every single song involving Kesang's voice.
Odd shadows of trees in the park
Claim the darkest dark
While we sleep
Tangled beneath the covers
Tangled in each other
And try to dream deep
As whenever I discover a new artist, I spread the word about Kesang to those whom I thought would care the most. Now it's your turn!
My absolute FAVORITE song of all time (for the moment, at least) is "Say, Say, Say," a cover (or as Kesang says it, "a tribute") of Paul McCartney's and Michael Jackson's duet. Now, I personally had no idea that they had ever done a duet, or had even spoken to each other...but you learn something new every day. The original song:
AMAZING video, but below average for the both of them in terms of listenability. Now, force your minds to calm down. Think about a situation in which you were hurt by someone. Slow your heart, switch your ears from pop mode to smooth, sultry Norah Jones' style, and give it a listen.
While the first song, "Bodega Rose," appealed to my melodic sensibilities the most, this song has those lyrics which just stick. They're like glitter. Once you apply it, it will never disappear. You will always find glitter on that outfit you wore that night. Every time you are hurt, the refrain of this song, with its repetition and simple rhymes, will push you to those tears which are floating so near the surface of your eyes. They certainly are not drying, as Kesang sings.
The song offers no solution. You are left to deal with your own grief. The only thing the song asks is for closure, actually. The singer, the listener, all one wants is a truth of some sort. Of course it will sting. Of course it will fester, burn, hurt terribly. But all that will pass. However, the song has to be finished. It ends with an incomplete arpeggio, leaving it open for you to answer the question, be what it may.
So, take a deep breath and face your fears. Then, realize that your emotions are mirrored in the lives of the majority of the 7 billion people on this earth. If anything is a failure, than it's the fact that humanity was made to feel so deeply. But imagine a life without those intense emotions. You would have nothing. It would be an endless night, a Bodega rose.
Disclaimer: Life is truly as cliché as I just made it out to be. Deal with it.
I am, essentially, dead: emotionally, physically, mentally, etc.
So it was a great relief and comfort to me Thursday night when I discovered a certain musician whose soft, optimistic voice had me wondering why Colbie Callait ever became famous with talent like this lurking all over Youtube. In fact, Kesang Marstrand (BEST NAME, btw) popped up on my Melody Gardot Pandora radio, and before I had listened to half of "Bodega Rose," I cycled through every single song involving Kesang's voice.
Odd shadows of trees in the park
Claim the darkest dark
While we sleep
Tangled beneath the covers
Tangled in each other
And try to dream deep
Bodega Rose by Kesang Marstrand, directed by J. Wyatt Wilson from Kesang Marstrand on Vimeo.
As whenever I discover a new artist, I spread the word about Kesang to those whom I thought would care the most. Now it's your turn!
My absolute FAVORITE song of all time (for the moment, at least) is "Say, Say, Say," a cover (or as Kesang says it, "a tribute") of Paul McCartney's and Michael Jackson's duet. Now, I personally had no idea that they had ever done a duet, or had even spoken to each other...but you learn something new every day. The original song:
AMAZING video, but below average for the both of them in terms of listenability. Now, force your minds to calm down. Think about a situation in which you were hurt by someone. Slow your heart, switch your ears from pop mode to smooth, sultry Norah Jones' style, and give it a listen.
While the first song, "Bodega Rose," appealed to my melodic sensibilities the most, this song has those lyrics which just stick. They're like glitter. Once you apply it, it will never disappear. You will always find glitter on that outfit you wore that night. Every time you are hurt, the refrain of this song, with its repetition and simple rhymes, will push you to those tears which are floating so near the surface of your eyes. They certainly are not drying, as Kesang sings.
The song offers no solution. You are left to deal with your own grief. The only thing the song asks is for closure, actually. The singer, the listener, all one wants is a truth of some sort. Of course it will sting. Of course it will fester, burn, hurt terribly. But all that will pass. However, the song has to be finished. It ends with an incomplete arpeggio, leaving it open for you to answer the question, be what it may.
So, take a deep breath and face your fears. Then, realize that your emotions are mirrored in the lives of the majority of the 7 billion people on this earth. If anything is a failure, than it's the fact that humanity was made to feel so deeply. But imagine a life without those intense emotions. You would have nothing. It would be an endless night, a Bodega rose.
Disclaimer: Life is truly as cliché as I just made it out to be. Deal with it.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Why I Write
This is an essay I wrote for a writing scholarship. Feedback, please?
I fell in love with the Nancy Drew series as a second grader. I could barely go to the bathroom by myself, yet I worked through the fifty book series, imagining myself as the crime fighting heroine. Somehow, I realized early on that I was not destined to fight crime and solve mysteries; I cried at the sound of a lawn mower, actually. Not the greatest background for a fearless leader. Instead, I started to dream of writing stories, of creating that perfect character which all my readers would aspire to be like, of becoming an inspiration to frightened little girls like myself. Carolyn Keene replaced Nancy Drew as my muse.
But, all things must end sooner or later. It was fifth grade for me. I had written my own little stories, “Harold the Ant”, “Haley Evelyno: the founder of Tabasco and Bayous in Louisiana”, and I had even written a poem about Biblical characters all stuck on Noah’s ark together. I had destroyed the ring with Frodo, fought the White Witch with Aslan, and ridden Black Beauty over and over again amongst the rolling hills of my imagination. However, despite all this positive reinforcement from places other than Nancy’s little blue convertible, I was devastated when my older sister abruptly informed me that Carolyn Keene did not, in fact, exist; she was actually manifested in many ghost writers all working together for a large corporation.
And that was when I decided that I was destined to be a writer, to transform writing from a money-making company-led pursuit into an artistic and stimulating mission. Scoot over, Shakespeare! I would be better than ‘Carolyn Keene’; I would create a world just as amazing as Nancy Drew’s, but all by myself without relying on another person’s originality. I would bake the cake AND frost it AND consume it, all in one fell swoop.
However, though I always put ‘author’ as my future career on the questionnaires I had to fill out as a middle-schooler, I never actually wrote anything outside of school. Sure, I could write great stories, but I had to have a topic to follow, or else I hit the speed bump before even turning the ignition. Finally, in high school, I had an English teacher who saw in me something different. He gave me rather good grades for my analytical writing, and equally appropriate grades for my rhetorical arguments. As my physics grade dropped, my English grade soared, and I finally saw writing as an outlet into which I could pour all my accumulated emotions from other areas of my life. I took a creative writing class and received the same encouragement. I began to write constantly, criticizing society, books, music, film, politics, people, etc., even sacrificing math problems once in a while to update my highly successful blogs. I write to escape from the demands of my baby brother, the stress of my friends, even [secret] the demands of my mother. I am always busy writing, and from experience, I know that I work much better when I keep busy. Writing has become my lifesaver, the activity to which I devote much of my free time. I would never even consider giving it up; I would not be able to function. The incentive of hearing praise and seeing my writing published is exhilarating, but I am truly happiest when in the midst of an eye-opening analysis. This is what writing has given to me; the least I can do is to continue to write, to give others the opportunity to be inspired in the same way.
I fell in love with the Nancy Drew series as a second grader. I could barely go to the bathroom by myself, yet I worked through the fifty book series, imagining myself as the crime fighting heroine. Somehow, I realized early on that I was not destined to fight crime and solve mysteries; I cried at the sound of a lawn mower, actually. Not the greatest background for a fearless leader. Instead, I started to dream of writing stories, of creating that perfect character which all my readers would aspire to be like, of becoming an inspiration to frightened little girls like myself. Carolyn Keene replaced Nancy Drew as my muse.
But, all things must end sooner or later. It was fifth grade for me. I had written my own little stories, “Harold the Ant”, “Haley Evelyno: the founder of Tabasco and Bayous in Louisiana”, and I had even written a poem about Biblical characters all stuck on Noah’s ark together. I had destroyed the ring with Frodo, fought the White Witch with Aslan, and ridden Black Beauty over and over again amongst the rolling hills of my imagination. However, despite all this positive reinforcement from places other than Nancy’s little blue convertible, I was devastated when my older sister abruptly informed me that Carolyn Keene did not, in fact, exist; she was actually manifested in many ghost writers all working together for a large corporation.
And that was when I decided that I was destined to be a writer, to transform writing from a money-making company-led pursuit into an artistic and stimulating mission. Scoot over, Shakespeare! I would be better than ‘Carolyn Keene’; I would create a world just as amazing as Nancy Drew’s, but all by myself without relying on another person’s originality. I would bake the cake AND frost it AND consume it, all in one fell swoop.
However, though I always put ‘author’ as my future career on the questionnaires I had to fill out as a middle-schooler, I never actually wrote anything outside of school. Sure, I could write great stories, but I had to have a topic to follow, or else I hit the speed bump before even turning the ignition. Finally, in high school, I had an English teacher who saw in me something different. He gave me rather good grades for my analytical writing, and equally appropriate grades for my rhetorical arguments. As my physics grade dropped, my English grade soared, and I finally saw writing as an outlet into which I could pour all my accumulated emotions from other areas of my life. I took a creative writing class and received the same encouragement. I began to write constantly, criticizing society, books, music, film, politics, people, etc., even sacrificing math problems once in a while to update my highly successful blogs. I write to escape from the demands of my baby brother, the stress of my friends, even [secret] the demands of my mother. I am always busy writing, and from experience, I know that I work much better when I keep busy. Writing has become my lifesaver, the activity to which I devote much of my free time. I would never even consider giving it up; I would not be able to function. The incentive of hearing praise and seeing my writing published is exhilarating, but I am truly happiest when in the midst of an eye-opening analysis. This is what writing has given to me; the least I can do is to continue to write, to give others the opportunity to be inspired in the same way.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Life Happens.
People annoy me.
Yes, that probably means you.
And you, and you, and you.
This year was not supposed to be stressful. I was supposed to coast through my classes, have a real social life, finish all my college applications early, record an album, find the cure to cancer, write a best-selling novel, and learn how to underwater basket-weave.
FAT CHANCE
SO, I'm at the same place I was last year, minus physics and before-school classes, plus a license and emotional issues.
And why do you care?
Ehhh, you probably don't, really.
And so, continuing my several week tradition of list-making (OBSESSION), here's a list of things that have made my life bearable over the past several weeks which also do not include the people who annoy me (yes, YOU!).
1) Knit a scarf. Stylish (at least...sometimes), cheap, and very relaxing. Yes, I do knit from time to time. I'm pretty much a grandmother in a gorgeous young girl's body ;)
2) The Cat Empire. This Australian band of wonder has never failed to make me feel ecstatic. I recommend instantly youtubing them. Like, NOW. Actually, I'll force you to hear them...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtFxo4mpiKg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Vonv8oO6ak&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfl9Zc2Dtok&feature=related
3) Facebook chat. Yeah, it's supposed to be counterproductive, but for a writing mind like mine, having a typed conversation gets the creative juices flowing. There is a drawback, though. Ten minutes on the computer can turn into several hours, depending on how interesting the conversation [cough...person] on the other end happens to be. This can also be dicey, because by talking to one person, you are subject to being attacked by the other 100+ friends who are online, of which there are only maybe 3 that you actually want to talk to...
4) Baby brother. Get one, asap. Always good for a free hug, hair-pulling, and, if you're lucky, a half-eaten cupcake.
5)Piano. Busting out with Beethoven's Concerto in C Major is extraordinarily soothing, y'all.
6) Movies with cheesy romantic plots. Try Notting Hill or Sleepless in Seattle. If you're really adventurous, try a black and white movie: Casablanca, It Happened One Night, Marx Brothers. You need popcorn and/or hot chocolate for this as well, and some sort of blanket or cushioney pillow/person.
7) Public Library. Browse through the CD's and DVD's. Pick out something you've never heard of before. Catch the eye of the guy rooting through the Desperate Housewives collection. Then head to the books, and pick out a decidedly non-classic. Not only will you feel better about your writing skills, but the sordid sex and graphic violence will intoxicate you into forgetting your own awful failure of a life.
8) Bubble tea, frozen yogurt, or peanut butter. Bubble tea, in case you don't know, is a wonderful Thai creation which consists of a tea smoothie (I recommend a chai blend or green tea) with huge tapioca pearls at the bottom which you suck up with an oversized straw. In other words, heaven. For frozen yogurt, drive down the street and you'll find one eventually. Peanut butter with chocolate, or Nutella. Spread on Nilla wafers. A big glass of two percent milk...dip them in, and, a soggy masterpiece.
9)Photography. Go take pictures of yourself. (but not THAT kind of picture...) Take pictures of nature, animals, small children, sidewalks, pencil shavings, grocery stores, headphones, tree bark, screwdrivers, iron clubs, shoes, other photos, roadkill, you get the point.
10) and the most soothing option? DRAW PICTURES. Apocalypses are the best. You can include all of your least favorite teachers getting blown up or hit by monster trucks, or your ex-boyfriend getting mauled by sharks or bears, or your high school getting attacked by North Korean nuclear bombs, or everyone getting sucked into a whirlpool except you and Johnny Depp. Ahh, I have revealed the secret of how I survive calculus class...
Or, you know, you could be productive and finish that essay, or math problem, or powerpoint.
But where's the fun in that?
Yes, that probably means you.
And you, and you, and you.
This year was not supposed to be stressful. I was supposed to coast through my classes, have a real social life, finish all my college applications early, record an album, find the cure to cancer, write a best-selling novel, and learn how to underwater basket-weave.
FAT CHANCE
SO, I'm at the same place I was last year, minus physics and before-school classes, plus a license and emotional issues.
And why do you care?
Ehhh, you probably don't, really.
And so, continuing my several week tradition of list-making (OBSESSION), here's a list of things that have made my life bearable over the past several weeks which also do not include the people who annoy me (yes, YOU!).
1) Knit a scarf. Stylish (at least...sometimes), cheap, and very relaxing. Yes, I do knit from time to time. I'm pretty much a grandmother in a gorgeous young girl's body ;)
2) The Cat Empire. This Australian band of wonder has never failed to make me feel ecstatic. I recommend instantly youtubing them. Like, NOW. Actually, I'll force you to hear them...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtFxo4mpiKg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Vonv8oO6ak&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfl9Zc2Dtok&feature=related
3) Facebook chat. Yeah, it's supposed to be counterproductive, but for a writing mind like mine, having a typed conversation gets the creative juices flowing. There is a drawback, though. Ten minutes on the computer can turn into several hours, depending on how interesting the conversation [cough...person] on the other end happens to be. This can also be dicey, because by talking to one person, you are subject to being attacked by the other 100+ friends who are online, of which there are only maybe 3 that you actually want to talk to...
4) Baby brother. Get one, asap. Always good for a free hug, hair-pulling, and, if you're lucky, a half-eaten cupcake.
5)Piano. Busting out with Beethoven's Concerto in C Major is extraordinarily soothing, y'all.
6) Movies with cheesy romantic plots. Try Notting Hill or Sleepless in Seattle. If you're really adventurous, try a black and white movie: Casablanca, It Happened One Night, Marx Brothers. You need popcorn and/or hot chocolate for this as well, and some sort of blanket or cushioney pillow/person.
7) Public Library. Browse through the CD's and DVD's. Pick out something you've never heard of before. Catch the eye of the guy rooting through the Desperate Housewives collection. Then head to the books, and pick out a decidedly non-classic. Not only will you feel better about your writing skills, but the sordid sex and graphic violence will intoxicate you into forgetting your own awful failure of a life.
8) Bubble tea, frozen yogurt, or peanut butter. Bubble tea, in case you don't know, is a wonderful Thai creation which consists of a tea smoothie (I recommend a chai blend or green tea) with huge tapioca pearls at the bottom which you suck up with an oversized straw. In other words, heaven. For frozen yogurt, drive down the street and you'll find one eventually. Peanut butter with chocolate, or Nutella. Spread on Nilla wafers. A big glass of two percent milk...dip them in, and, a soggy masterpiece.
9)Photography. Go take pictures of yourself. (but not THAT kind of picture...) Take pictures of nature, animals, small children, sidewalks, pencil shavings, grocery stores, headphones, tree bark, screwdrivers, iron clubs, shoes, other photos, roadkill, you get the point.
10) and the most soothing option? DRAW PICTURES. Apocalypses are the best. You can include all of your least favorite teachers getting blown up or hit by monster trucks, or your ex-boyfriend getting mauled by sharks or bears, or your high school getting attacked by North Korean nuclear bombs, or everyone getting sucked into a whirlpool except you and Johnny Depp. Ahh, I have revealed the secret of how I survive calculus class...
Or, you know, you could be productive and finish that essay, or math problem, or powerpoint.
But where's the fun in that?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
How to be a Beastly Test-taker
Goodness. It's been several weeks since my last post, so in order to recapture my dear readers' attentions and perhaps convince several others to become faithful followers, I will be instructing you in the fine art of test-taking. Specifically, you juniors, how to ace the PSAT tomorrow. IF you ace the PSAT, you will be receiving at least five college letters per day, with an average of one full scholarship a week. Unfortunately, these scholarships are to schools like OU,Kings' College, University of Nebraska, and itty-bitty Methodist all-girls' schools in the middle of Iowa. Now, some of these might stir your innermost dreams, but really, I would appreciate a letter from Harvard or Yale a bit more...
Anyways, it's good to be recognized, and if you go to Lynch, then you're also treated to a breakfast complete with cake and a little flag with your name on it. Very much worth the extra effort.
Here are some tips that you will not regret following:
1) Sleep a bit. If you don't, then that impromptu nap you indulge in during that fascinating critical reading section(astronomical observations about the innermost ring of Saturn definitely has been my favorite) might result in some slobbering that will smudge your answers.
2) Eat breakfast. Otherwise everyone in your testing room will hate you by the end of the four hours after listening to your stomach growl incessantly. Believe me, I could have boosted my score by at least three or four points if not for the distractions from my fellow test-takers' bodily noises.
3) Drink coffee. This especially helps if you ignore step 1. However, either make sure you have a strong bladder or abstain from more than one cup. Calculating the weight of twenty-three storage bins full of confetti is much more difficult when a much heavier load is sitting in your bladder. Just fyi-ing all that obvious stuff.
4) Get assigned to a classroom with a cool teacher. Yes, I realize this is not technically under your control, but use some telepathic skills to communicate your wish to your counselor. Perhaps it'll work if you're REALLY as smart as you pretend to be. Anyways, with a cool teacher you can skip most or all of the hour set aside for teaching you how to bubble in circles and spell your name, and instead you can just take the damn test already.
5) Bring a calculator. "All of the problems on this test can be completed without a calculator." Yeah, RIGHT. SURE. If you can multiply 1327.5 times 6 to the fourth power within the 25 minutes set aside for the math section with time left over to do the other 20+ problems, then I hope you plan on applying to MIT (which most definitely DOES NOT stand for the Massachusetts Institute of Theatre).
6)Don't sit in an uneven desk. A recent study has shown that a wobbly desk psychologically screws with your head, and as your desk vibrates, your head mixes up all the information, creating a big alphabet number soup that translates onto the page as eraser marks and lost hope. Seriously.
7) Don't get a song stuck in your head before the test unless it's a catchy math tune that helped you to memorize the equations for semi-circles and twenty-two sided figures. Oh wait. They provide all the equations anyways. Way to waste time, dude.
Here, I'll help you give your opponents an advantage:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgkHd6eBfoE&feature=related
Good luck with those problems!
8) Guess only if you can eliminate one or more answers, and therefore, one or more percent of the 1.5 million students taking the test. Duh.
9) Be smart. If you're not, then you're sunk. Blame your parents, you inherited a good portion of their intelligence.
10) Remember, even when you're being bullied for your glasses or made fun of for breaking the curve, just remember, it's cool to be smart. Look at me.
'Nuff said.
Anyways, it's good to be recognized, and if you go to Lynch, then you're also treated to a breakfast complete with cake and a little flag with your name on it. Very much worth the extra effort.
Here are some tips that you will not regret following:
1) Sleep a bit. If you don't, then that impromptu nap you indulge in during that fascinating critical reading section(astronomical observations about the innermost ring of Saturn definitely has been my favorite) might result in some slobbering that will smudge your answers.
2) Eat breakfast. Otherwise everyone in your testing room will hate you by the end of the four hours after listening to your stomach growl incessantly. Believe me, I could have boosted my score by at least three or four points if not for the distractions from my fellow test-takers' bodily noises.
3) Drink coffee. This especially helps if you ignore step 1. However, either make sure you have a strong bladder or abstain from more than one cup. Calculating the weight of twenty-three storage bins full of confetti is much more difficult when a much heavier load is sitting in your bladder. Just fyi-ing all that obvious stuff.
4) Get assigned to a classroom with a cool teacher. Yes, I realize this is not technically under your control, but use some telepathic skills to communicate your wish to your counselor. Perhaps it'll work if you're REALLY as smart as you pretend to be. Anyways, with a cool teacher you can skip most or all of the hour set aside for teaching you how to bubble in circles and spell your name, and instead you can just take the damn test already.
5) Bring a calculator. "All of the problems on this test can be completed without a calculator." Yeah, RIGHT. SURE. If you can multiply 1327.5 times 6 to the fourth power within the 25 minutes set aside for the math section with time left over to do the other 20+ problems, then I hope you plan on applying to MIT (which most definitely DOES NOT stand for the Massachusetts Institute of Theatre).
6)Don't sit in an uneven desk. A recent study has shown that a wobbly desk psychologically screws with your head, and as your desk vibrates, your head mixes up all the information, creating a big alphabet number soup that translates onto the page as eraser marks and lost hope. Seriously.
7) Don't get a song stuck in your head before the test unless it's a catchy math tune that helped you to memorize the equations for semi-circles and twenty-two sided figures. Oh wait. They provide all the equations anyways. Way to waste time, dude.
Here, I'll help you give your opponents an advantage:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgkHd6eBfoE&feature=related
Good luck with those problems!
8) Guess only if you can eliminate one or more answers, and therefore, one or more percent of the 1.5 million students taking the test. Duh.
9) Be smart. If you're not, then you're sunk. Blame your parents, you inherited a good portion of their intelligence.
10) Remember, even when you're being bullied for your glasses or made fun of for breaking the curve, just remember, it's cool to be smart. Look at me.
'Nuff said.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Piñata
The candy falls out of the broken Dora the Explorer piñata and the exuberant children push and shove to get to it first. The proud parents look on, viewing the savagery with pleasure, each thinking of their child as the next Babe Ruth or Muhammad Ali.
However, one little girl stands on the sidelines, tears rolling down her face. Her mother and best friend rush over, simultaneously offering the girl Kleenexes, pawfuls of candy, and questions.
“What’s wrong?”
“You want some candy?”
“Is it time to go home?”
The girl nods at the last question and wordlessly follows her mother who apologizes and thanks the host. The girl, with a dripping tissue, sops up the tears still falling freely. The other children stare at her as she and her mother leave.
As they drive home, the mother peppers her daughter with questions, receiving silence and muffled sobs in return. The anxious mother phones the doctor and the girl’s father, who both tell the mother to relax. For the rest of the day, the girl cradles her dolls and stuffed giraffe, soaking their cloth bodies with tears. The mother, seeking to consol her baby, offers her chocolate and other sweets, which are all refused.
Finally, during dinner, the girl breaks down completely. Puzzled and close to hysteria herself, the mother picks up her daughter and nearly screams, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
To this the little girl replies, “Mommy, didn’t the dolly have a heart? Didn’t we break the dolly’s heart?”
However, one little girl stands on the sidelines, tears rolling down her face. Her mother and best friend rush over, simultaneously offering the girl Kleenexes, pawfuls of candy, and questions.
“What’s wrong?”
“You want some candy?”
“Is it time to go home?”
The girl nods at the last question and wordlessly follows her mother who apologizes and thanks the host. The girl, with a dripping tissue, sops up the tears still falling freely. The other children stare at her as she and her mother leave.
As they drive home, the mother peppers her daughter with questions, receiving silence and muffled sobs in return. The anxious mother phones the doctor and the girl’s father, who both tell the mother to relax. For the rest of the day, the girl cradles her dolls and stuffed giraffe, soaking their cloth bodies with tears. The mother, seeking to consol her baby, offers her chocolate and other sweets, which are all refused.
Finally, during dinner, the girl breaks down completely. Puzzled and close to hysteria herself, the mother picks up her daughter and nearly screams, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
To this the little girl replies, “Mommy, didn’t the dolly have a heart? Didn’t we break the dolly’s heart?”
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Don't be Blue on Black and White Day: Tips for Homecoming
IN a few weeks, high schools will kick off that wonderfully wacky tradition called Homecoming.
Why it is called Homecoming escapes my linguistic brain, for rarely do any alumnus show up at the actual football game, and never do any show up to the grind...whoops, I meant 'dance'.
Anyways, many of you manly men are probably wondering WHOM you should ask, HOW you should ask, and WHAT you should do to make that certain girl say yes.
Leave it up to me, mes amis. I. am. the. Homecoming. Helper.
Now, you may be thinking, "How is this stupid blogger qualified to tell me what to do for Homecoming?" If you're still reading this, you just answered your own question. You are probably a confused, pubescent young boy, lovestruck but with less social grace than a worm. BUT AFTER READING THIS, YOU WILL BE A GLOWWORM.
I am qualified because I happen to be a female who would actually appreciates and enjoys when guys profess their undying love to me, no matter whether you're hunky footballer, tall basketballer, cool skateboarder, melodious choir member, nerdy chess club manager, short wrestler, smooth swimmer, brave band member, etc. etc. so on and so forth. Now, granted, professions of undying love come rarely these days, and not only to me. There seems to be more fear circulating nowadays that that girl will turn you down and then go blog about it or post a Facebook message making fun of you or send you nasty texts afterwards. Get over yourself. If she tells you to f#$% off, then seriously, tell her to go douse herself in antifreeze and visit Alaska. See how that works for her.
Honestly, I am all for going back to hippie-times, if only for the free love available from everyone! Seriously, I would support the legalization of certain illegal substances if it got men down on their knees proposing in the hallways of school. I mean, at least that would be worth a good laugh during passing period.
Anyways, we all need love of some sort. So why not start with Homecoming?
1) DO give her flowers or chocolate or something pretty and girly when you ask. I mean, who doesn't want to carry around decomposing pink things all day or gorge themselves on chocolate so they can have an excuse to get a new dress for homecoming!? I mean, I don't, but I'm probably the exception. I gorge myself on chocolate often enough anyways...
2) IF you don't follow step 1, then DO ask her in a creative way. Like bribe a teacher to put an extra question at the end of a scantron: "Suzy Cream-Cheese, will you go to Homecoming with me?" Then she will scream/gasp/faint/throw up/smile/gag and no vocal answer is required! Or, if you are one of those rare males that actually enjoys conversation, just bring it up one day in random conversation. No big deal.
3)IF no other date presents itself, ask a best friend or a complete stranger. A best friend will not judge the color of your tux, and a complete stranger has no idea who the hell you are, so no fear. Just be careful who you pick up off the street, especially in the area surrounding Lynch, cause you don't want to end up with a Bryan Adams' girl...
4)DON'T ask over Facebook, text message, and preferably not a phone call either. Face to face leads to cheek to cheek. Trust me on this. But it doesn't really matter. So, for chrissake, just get it over with.
5)ASK her if she actually wants a stupid mum. Those things weigh more than most girls do, especially if the girl is a freshmen.(I swear, those kids get smaller every year!) Save some money and take her out somewhere really nice. But not an uber-classy place, cause we all know that Homecoming dresses are made to revel in their slittiness, not in their sophistication. When all else fails, go to Chili's (but not if you're in a group with me; I hate Chili's).
6)DON'T invite a freshman if you are a senior, or a senior if you are a freshman. (I'd like to meet the freshman who would do that. Shoot me an email.) Wait for college to bridge age-levels. Right now, try to avoid that evolutionary urge to prey on younger generations.
7)DON'T grind at the dance. Nobody wants to see that. Get a room. Thanks.
8)DO make a note of the color of her dress. This will come in handy if you end up marrying her. Otherwise, you'll be like this couple:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sISWPzEqHLQ
9)DO serenade her. It's every girl's dream. And by that, I mean my dream. And if you can't sing, don't attempt to unless you like getting laughed at.
10) Finally, DON'T take this as the final word on Homecoming. Unless you're planning on asking me. Then you should.
ENJOY!!!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Morality of Disgust
This past Sunday, in the Dallas Morning News Points section, Drake Bennett wrote an insightful and intriguing article about human nature and disgust: is it present from birth? or do we learn to abhor certain people, places, and things? is it based on our moral values? or are we too judgmental?
Try this: Would you rather drink a glass of water into which a sterilized cockroach has been dropped, eat a piece of chocolate fudge shaped like a dog turd, or wear a freshly-washed sweater which was previously worn by Adolf Hitler?
None of the above? You're normal.
Nothing is innately wrong with any of the above three situations. None of them are morally wrong. None of them carry any danger. And yet most people would reject every single one.
Of course, there are the oft-quoted observations - people who wash their hands feel less guilt, judging in an ugly or smelly room make judges harsher, stronger verbs or adjectives turn people off (take vs. borrow, always vs. sometimes), and more.
There is no escape from chronic gullibility. We are all subject to it. But be encouraged. In the article, Bennett brings up a situation of 50 years ago, when many white people were 'disgusted' if they thought of drinking from a water fountain reserved for black people. Today, you will be hard-pressed to find half as many, or even a quarter as many people who would even care.
So, the next time you feel superior or stick out your tongue or hold your nose for a harmless situation, think about why. Good luck finding a reason.
Try this: Would you rather drink a glass of water into which a sterilized cockroach has been dropped, eat a piece of chocolate fudge shaped like a dog turd, or wear a freshly-washed sweater which was previously worn by Adolf Hitler?
None of the above? You're normal.
Nothing is innately wrong with any of the above three situations. None of them are morally wrong. None of them carry any danger. And yet most people would reject every single one.
Of course, there are the oft-quoted observations - people who wash their hands feel less guilt, judging in an ugly or smelly room make judges harsher, stronger verbs or adjectives turn people off (take vs. borrow, always vs. sometimes), and more.
There is no escape from chronic gullibility. We are all subject to it. But be encouraged. In the article, Bennett brings up a situation of 50 years ago, when many white people were 'disgusted' if they thought of drinking from a water fountain reserved for black people. Today, you will be hard-pressed to find half as many, or even a quarter as many people who would even care.
So, the next time you feel superior or stick out your tongue or hold your nose for a harmless situation, think about why. Good luck finding a reason.
Monday, August 30, 2010
A Boycott of Facebook a.k.a. Redefining My Life in One Week
From Monday to Monday, August 30-September 6, I have vowed not to let my fingers type in my username and password to enter that cyberworld of social interaction, instant chat, and awful surveys, known more commonly as Facebook.
I am a bit of an addict. I usually update my status once a day and have officially liked 305 different topics (musicians, hobbies, movies, books, etc. so I guess I could simply be considered more cultured with more diverse interests than anyone else...). Especially during the school year, much of my social interaction outside of school consists of having conversations through Facebook chat or posting on other people's walls. So, for me to spend a week away from Facebook definitely impacts some undefined part of my life.
I have stayed away from Facebook for longer than a week before. This summer, there were two different ten day periods where I simply did not have access to a computer. This is different, though. I'm on a computer now, but I cannot scroll up and select the bookmarked Facebook. I have to resist the temptation, and with my addictive personality, an added element - psychological, in fact - is in play.
So, why am I doing this? Does it matter that I'm not checking Facebook for a week? Really, it should not be this big of a deal.
But...I'm applying to eleven colleges right now, I'm taking multiple AP classes, I'm in a bajillion clubs, choirs, not to mention the 29 page piano concerto I have to learn within the next several months. So this is an experiment. If my life drastically improves, if my time-management skills improve, if any of my grades go up, if I get more sleep, etc., then this will be a success. Maybe I'll give up Facebook for two weeks next time, or a month, or even more.
This is a chronicle of my seven days...
DAY ONE:
Not too bad. I actually had my little brother check my Facebook page just to make sure that nobody had anything pressing to tell me. That's not cheating, is it? Well, too late now. I finished my college application schedule, which means all I have to do is actually...apply.
For the next several hours, though, I will be distracted by calculus, European history, and 1984, so don't count on me giving up today!
DAY TWO, THREE, and FOUR :
Thursday now. I'm alive and very well. Giving up Facebook is kind of like giving up chocolate for Lent. The first couple days are hard, but then you realize that you actually only ate chocolate once or twice a week anyways. No big deal. But this experiment has inspired me to maybe change the subject of this blog. Instead of a mix of music, film, literature, politics, etc., I might decide to concentrate instead on giving up some common item for a week...cell phone, ice cream, homework... the options are endless! Stay tuned!
DAY FIVE, SIX :
Yeah. Ditto the above post.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Eat Pray Love. repeat.
As a celebration/mourning exercise commemorating the first day of my last year of high school, I went to see Eat Pray Love at that rip-off wonder known as 'Northpark'. ($10.50 for a ticket? Seriously?)
I am a total SUCKER for romances (unless they were written by Sparks, Nicholas or Steele, Danielle or Meyer, Stephanie). And this was a romance, but without an overabundance of Romance. In fact, Liz Gilbert makes an effort to NOT be romantically involved during her year of world travel. This memoir movie, starring Julia Roberts (who, despite her unpopularity with critics nowadays, still captures the true spirit of her characters while allowing other actors to shine), starts with a woman, newly divorced and affair-ed, who FALLS IN LOVE WITH HER LIFE! She realizes that it is not her marriage that she needs to save, nor her relationship with her boyfriend, but for her own life! Call it selfish, call it unrealistic, call it idealistic, but call it courage. We all need a shot glass of courage every day.
Here are my top five favorite things about this end of the summer flick:
5. The scenery. Especially Bali. Oceans. Mountains. Paradise.
And Italy. The scene in Naples [seems] to capture the city (and pizza!) perfectly. Even the girl who flashed Liz the finger.
And India. Even the scene with the poor children reaching through the windows was completely breathtaking. The architecture is so different from America's straight up and down buildings.
4. The actresses. I adore Julia Roberts. She grows on you a bit. But just watching her versatility, from Pretty Woman to Mona Lisa Smile to Notting Hill to Ocean's to this! She creates the character, but lets everyone else do their stuff too.
Viola Davis as the best friend. A small part, but one that really stood out. Her marriage, unlike Liz's, is perfect. She is married to a fat, balding white guy. She's a gorgeous and curvy black woman. They have a beautiful baby.
The wife of the fortune teller in Bali. Dear LORD. The whole audience laughed every time she appeared, because she always had some smartass remark about Liz finding a man at any cost. Why was it funny? I have no idea.
3. The FOOD. Italy, here I come! Pasta, pizza, gelato. Thre three major food groups!
2. The clothes! Perfect wardrobe for Ms. Roberts, alternating from posh Euro-touristy to saris in India and long, flowing dresses and cute straw hats in Bali.
1. THE ACTORS! Richard Jenkins (Richard the stereotypical Texan) STOLE the movie. That is the ONE thing I am on par with the critics for. His name for Liz was 'Groceries' because she ate so much. He always wore the same funky pair of glasses. And he's a Texan in an Indian ashram. There IS a story behind that.
Billy Crudup is hilarious as Liz's ex. Even in divorce proceedings, he 'made up' a song to convince her to stay with him. At their wedding, he switched out their song for a disco one, then promptly danced along.
James Franco is hot.
Javier Bardem is not hot. But he is alluring. And I envy Julia Roberts and Javier's new wife, Penelope Cruz. And he is probably one of the best actors alive today. Just sayin'.
Go see this movie. It's not overly deep. It's not special-effects stunning. But it will make you aim higher, especially for those of us heading off to college soon. When you consider studying abroad, maybe don't go to a normal place like London or Paris, but somewhere with a non-tourist dominated culture. When you are thinking of marriage, maybe consider whether that person will let you change at all. When you are getting a job, maybe consider if you WANT the job. Not need. WANT. Why waste half your life making money that you will eventually be too old to spend and enjoy anyways? Think about it. Eat Pray Love. That's all you really need, my friends.
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