Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who doesn't just look at the small thumbnails of the photos/art, but actually clicks on the links for all of them, compares them side by side, and then makes a decision. Actually, I just want to know why everyone's chosen D for the Magic Photo Contest. Honestly, the boy does look vaguely cool and Harry Potter-ish, but the close up reveals that he just has a ball of energy and wispy smoke. Come on, like that's not cliched beyond all belief. Dragon Ball Z uses that stuff.
I dislike the last choice too. Nothing magical about a kitty-whore. Plus the hand is in the completely wrong position for throwing anything. Unless you're going for the valley girl/gay stereotype hand gesture that accompanies "Oh pul-leaze uh"
Then f is like wft? Box light? magic? Huh? I don't get it.
E isn't much better, grey indistinct swirly thing.
Then there's C. She's swallowing a light? Why?
B is books. Least offensive. Most effort. Nicest presentation. Should win. But won't because people obviously lack taste or don't look past the thumbnail. Please let it be the latter.
I think I'm going to go out and take my own magic picture now.
Because magic is supposed to be shiny and sparkly if you can see it and mysterious and obscure if you can't.
Ever notice that it's always easier to talk to someone who doesn't know you all that well. Especially when it's stuff about your closest friends or insecurities. Maybe it's because they don't know you. They don't have as many past experiences to go off of. IT's all the better if they're outside your usual circle of friends. There's no risk of them telling everyone your secrets.
It's not even that. Someone who doesn't know you that well provides distance. They didn't experience the situation or if they did, they don't have the baggage that your friends bring. They force you to explain it to them, and to a certain extent, to yourself.
For me, these people are never girls. I tried it once and nothing. Possibly because inside every girl lurks a drama queen, no matter how starved and hidden. Or maybe it's because a girl would remember it. Maybe it's because I don't trust females. But I don't think that's it.
It's just that there's always this guy who I know I can talk to whenever I'm freaking out. He's never not been there and the strange thing is we have this awful history, but he's logical and can deal with me when I'm an emotionally freaked out wreck. He's good at distancing himself from me, and I need that sometimes. He doesn't put pressure on me to be great or worthy or anything. He's good at treating me like an equal.
THen there's another guy. He's the one I talk to when I'm deeply unhappy. He makes me feeling better. He allows me to be a mess, emotionally.
And I just realized that I don't dare do that around the guy I like. I'm always happy, but I don't know if I could be my dark troubled self around him. I think I might still go to the other guys, but then I'd feel like I was leading them on. I know why I feel this way. I'm terrified that Lance, I like him, is going to like Anna better. I'm terrified Riley, I used to like him, would do the same. I've had dreams about it. ONe where Riley was Anna's boyfriend and I still liked him but his relatively unattractive ex-friend was hitting on me. Another recent one is where Anna admits that Lance is her number on MSN (don't question my dreaming logic) and she tells me that she really likes him. In the dream, I know that I'm expected to just step out of the way for her. But I don't, not right away.
IT's always like this. She's just more outgoing than I am. People notice her more. At the party I had, everyone wanted her attention. And there's a part of me that's screaming "It's my party, mine". Pay attention to me!
Because she has everything. And sometimes I feel like I have nothing. IT used to be skiing, but not anymore. We're both artists. I write better, but that's too raw for me to cling to. I'm just realizing that I'm on the same level as Tania (the best writer in our class since 7th grade). I guess I could say I'm a better artist, but those are all quiet arts. Not performing. I would say horseback riding, but I refuse to cling at it. It's not something to be clutched at, and niether is art or writing. Besides, no one ever sees me ride.
And I would like to say distance track, but she'd be better. Just because she's a natural runner and I'm not.
She doesn't have any insecurities. She doesn't cry. Why do I feel like she looks down on me? I cry! I Cry! I'm crying!
Why does she say she doesn't cry with such pride?
She takes over everything.
I can't see anyone choosing me over her.
I do this to myself. I don't let myself compete truly. I hold myself back because I'm afriad of losing friends.
We lost. Again. For the 3rd year in a row. It's depressing. Though our JV won and so did our freshmen. Next year.
And it's the one football game I go to. Unless I ask 21 to the TWIRPS dance, in which case I shall attend all the Chico home games between then and TWIRPS.
My math teacher brought up an interesting point today. Because of the gang activity we're not supposed to wear a lot of red or blue. However, today was Almond Bowl day. Which is when Chico High plays (beats... sometimes) our cross town rival Pleasant Valley High (or PV). Nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the fact that Chico High colors are RED and gold. And PV's are BLUE and white. So today everyone was wearing red and gold/yellow.
We're also apparently the most spirited group of junior AP English students Mr. Craig has seen in all his years of teaching.
So, if the people who decided that RED and blue were gang colors came to our school...
The Seven Deadly Sins:
1. Who did you last get angry with? Myself
2. What is your weapon of choice? Something large, like a sword or glaive. OR unsuspected, like a shoe
3. Would you hit a member of the opposite sex? I have a brother
4.How about of the same sex? Equal opportunity.
5.Who was the last person who got really angry at you? I don't know?
6.What is your pet peeve? Stupid people/Daniel'
7.Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily? Both. Sometimes I'll forget and others I'll remember it forever
1.What is one thing you're supposed to do daily that you haven't done in a long time? brush teeth
2. What is the latest you've ever woken up? 10 or 9
3.Name a person you've been meaning to contact, but haven't? Logan
4. What is the last lame excuse you made? I have homework
5.Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through? No
6. How many times did you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock today? Several. Not that I'm awake really when I do it.
1. What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice? Chai tea, the local stuff.
2. Meat eaters: white meat or red meat? Red.
3. What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing
4. Have you ever used a professional diet company? No
5. Do you have an issue with your weight? Only when it gets past 128.
6. Do you prefer sweets, salty foods, or spicy foods? Sugar
7. Have you ever looked at a small house pet or child and thought "Food!"? No.
1. How many people have you seen naked (not counting movies/family)? 2 maybe
2. How many people have seen YOU naked (not counting physicians/fam
3. Have you ever caught yourself staring at the chest/crotch of a member of your gender of choice during a normal conversation? Yes. And I didn't even like him. >.<
4. Have you "done it"? No.
5. What is your favorite body part on a person of your gender of choice? eyes
6. Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute? No
7. Have you ever had to get tested for an STD or pregnancy? No
1. How many credit cards do you own? none
2. What's your guilty pleasure store? any shoe store
3. If you had $1 million, what would you do with it? college, then horse, and shoes.
5. Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make megabucks? No
6. Have you ever stolen anything? No
7. how many MP3s are on your hard drive? I don't know.
1. What one thing have you done that you're most proud of? I survived.
2. What one thing have you done that your parents are most proud of? Grades
3. What thing would you like to accomplish in your life? Writer
4. Do you get annoyed by coming in second place? Yes. Especially if the person ahead of me is a jerk.
5. Have you ever entered a contest of skill, knowing you were of much higher skill than all the other competitors? Possibly
6. Have you ever cheated on something to get a higher score? Yes. Still failed.
7. What did you do today that you're proud of? Rode.
1. What item (or person) of your friends would you most want to have for your own? Anthony! ^^
2. Who would you want to go on "Trading Spaces" with? Devin
3. If you could be anyone else in the world, who would you be? A singer like Amy Lee.
4. Have you ever been cheated on? No
5. Have you ever wished you had a physical feature different from your own? Err. yes actually. I'd like Amy Lee's eyes and maybe hair. ONly person I'd want to trade looks with.
6. What inborn trait do you see in others that you wish you had for yourself? Math skills
7. Do you wish you'd come up with this survey? No.
I am intensely proud of this daybook. It's also my favorite.
Daybook 10 (the Final One):
He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
Who questioned him in Greek.
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
“The one thing I regret,” he said
“Is that it could not speak.”—Lewis Carroll
At first glance this snippet of a poem seems to make as much sense as the song title “Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect” to those unfamiliar with the Decemberists. It sounds like nonsense and is, until you set a couple classes of neurotic AP English students on it with the directions of “explain the quote.” Suddenly a plethora of hidden meanings surface. “The Middle of Next Week” would be next Wednesday, aside from the fact that it’s capitalized and therefore must have special meaning. Maybe it’s a name of a restaurant. Did they have restaurants then? And the AP students chase themselves around in circles or treat it like a Beatles’ song and contemplate it backwards.
It probably just looked cool. I wrote poems that zig-zagged across the page for that reason. I considered it a way of expressing myself. I wrote poems because of the emotional turmoil that characterized seventh grade. They allowed me to understand my thoughts. I was able to take a mass of swirling emotions and turn it into something concrete and real. I stopped writing poetry in eighth grade. No, poetry stopped needing to be written.
I didn’t even think about using my past experiences with poetry for this daybook until I started writing it. It’s a Typical Sara thing to do and I don’t just mean how my writing process is my thought process. I tend to shove the 20 pages of seventh grade poetry to the back of the metaphorical closet where all other past embarrassments are kept. For the longest time I consider the poetry in the Word document titled “Arizona” to be an embarrassment. I never deleted it. I gave the excuse ‘it’s to remind me that I suck at poetry’ to my friends and to myself. I looked back at it recently and found, much to my surprise, that it wasn’t that bad. If fact, I admired the audacity I to write it, share it, and keep it.
I even added to it. Originally it was only one, and only to document the change in my view points. Then I wrote another because I still had more to say, but the first poem was finished. I wrote a third because it felt nice to write something other than school essays and stories of my own creation. It didn’t have to have complete sentences or correct grammar or even be coherent. It could just be.
Perhaps that’s what Lewis Carroll is trying to show us in this stanza. That poetry doesn’t have to make sense or have any relation to reality. It can be as strange as the line in Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect: “Or are you furrowed like a lioness.” It can consist of strange words like “jabberwocky” and “bandersnatch.
Daybook 7, the improved version:
Society every where is in a conspiracy against the manhood of everyone of its members—R. W. Emerson
Society requires conformity, in the form of a common ideal or need, to function. This is necessary even in a society of only two. Control must be given up in order for work to get done. The maid reason this works is because it is assumed that these two people are equals. Neither person is more powerful than the other and a balance is easily formed. However, the rules change when one person is placed in a position of leadership over others. These groups function best in a controlled environment, such as school, or when the leader is chosen unanimously. In all other instances, individuals are required to relinquish some, if not all, of their individuality or face the consequences.
This is where artists, writers, and other creative types come into conflict with society. They are, by definition, different. Creative people think creative thoughts. Creative thoughts cause revolutions. Revolutions are started by a small amount of individuals who refuse to give up their manhood to society for various reasons. They also tend to have weapons ranging from rotten fruit to AK 47 machine guns. Due to the fact that revolutions are bloody and disruptive, societies do everything in their power to prevent them. The simplest way it to confine their members. Or, as Ralph Waldo Emerson says, conspire “against the manhood of everyone of its members.”
Only the fool, fixed on his folly, may think that he can turn the wheel on which he turns—T. S. Elliot
Only the fool, convinced of his own greatness, could think that he could control his fate. To T. S. Elliot, this is as ludicrous as the spitted bird believing that it, and not some outside force, was turning the spit. However, there are some people who, while able to see how the bird would be deluded, insist on believing that they are in complete control of their destiny. They argue that they decide everything about their day: how they act, how the feel, what clothes they wear. Ignoring the obvious argument that society controls the options of choice and the mindset leading to that choice, a quote comes to mind: “There is no such thing as a self made man, we are influenced by the people we never meet.”
We are influenced by the people we never meet. Even if would we were capable of controlling every instance of our lives, we would still be affected by those we did not meet. It is a strange paradox of life: lack of influence is influence. It seems strange, but makes an odd sort of double-negativ
… of all the tools used in the shadow of the moon, men are the most apt to get out of order—Herman Melville
When men are used as tools one has to realize that they are not machines. If one were to leave an axe outside it would rust and lose its edge. It would not rebel or question you because it is an axe. It lacks a brain. Humans on the other hand have the potential to do decidedly more disruptive things than rust and lose sharpness. They think can think for themselves and therefore question orders if given too much time to think.
Ahab, the captain in the novel Moby Dick by Herman Melville, realizes this. He knows that though his crew may swear loyalty to the quest of killing the whale, they will inevitably falter unless a more material reward presents itself. Ahab knows that only fanatics will fight and die for a cause, and those are not the trustworthiest of characters. His crew is human and humans cannot be sustained by an idea alone.
Even the US Army recognizes this. Instead of training the troops to kill for the insubstantial idea of freedom or liberty, the soldiers are trained to kill for their unit, which has become their second family. Humans might argue for an idea or concept, but very few will die for one.
Well, I'm not turning my daybook assignment thing in tomorrow. Not unless numbers: 6, 9, & 10 write themselves and 7 miraculously improves between now and 7 am. Fortunately, Mr. Craig prefers good writing that is late to mediocre writing by the due date. He also doesn't mark good writing down if it's late. Which is good because I'm not at all proud of 7.
Daybook 7 (which I loathe):
Society every where is in a conspiracy against the manhood of everyone of its members—R. W. Emerson
Society requires conformity, in the form of a common ideal or necessity, to function. Without this common ground, it degenerates into a mass of individual people incapable of agreeing on anything. Therefore it is the very nature of societies to repress and limit individuality. This relinquishing of power is necessary even in a society of two, like marriage. In order for the marriage to work, neither partner can be allowed to rule over the other. Both must be willing to compromise. Sometimes, as in the case of transcendental
The moving finger writes; and having writ moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it—Omar Khayyan
Life is written in Sharpie ™ not pencil, and there is no white-out. Once something has been done, there is no changing it or casting it in a different light. Explanations, regardless of how intelligent they appear, are synonymous with excuses. A lifetime of good behavior will not wipe the embarrassing event from the memory of others. Crying will not change a thing. Nothing can change the past is an absolute that humans have always had trouble understanding. Adults tend to justify tragic or unfortunate events by classifying them as karma or acts of god.
Children take a different route: flat agreed upon denial. “Let’s pretend that never happened” are the magic words that echo from my childhood. This phrase was used whenever something bad happened or the game became too strange. It was the reset button. Five words and the game returned to a more normal level. It was completely normal. Just as much of the dialogue as princesses and talking cats. It didn’t really change anything. It just allowed a bunch of six and seven year olds to move quickly and get back to the matters at hand.
Sometimes, I think the pretend game and its magic eraser phrase just made the eventual realization that I couldn’t take back my actions all the more painful. Still, I can’t say that I would rather it not have happened. It helped the lesson stick and it’s not much use now. “Let’s pretend it didn’t happen” is written in Sharpie ™, just like the rest of my life.
If each knew everything about the other, we would forgive more easily—Hafiz
I suppose we would. If we understood the motives, desires, and feelings behind each person’s actions and they ours, forgiveness would come easier. We would understand the other person’s point of view, and while we might not agree or condone it, truly condemning it would be much harder. Unfortunately few humans are capable of this level of fairness. Most, if not all, are biased in favor of their side. This is understandable
High school girls are an excellent example. There will be these two girls, who for some reason unknown to the general public, cannot stand each other. Maybe Girl A is part of student government and Girl B isn’t. Or maybe they both liked the same guy. Or maybe they just don’t get along. Pretty soon Girl A is complaining that Girl B is calling her a slut, when she, Girl A, isn’t. Girl A will generally go on to state within the next sentence that Girl B is a slut or other derogatory word. Girl B has the same complaints and response as Girl A.
Granted, I am not completely innocent either. I have been known to hold grudges for years. However, I don’t start rumors. Instead I write stories featuring the people I find disagreeable as villains or cannon fodder. While this is not exactly normal teenage girl behavior, I find it to be more productive than starting rumors. The subject never reads the story and remains ignorant while I am either forced to write a flat character, some thing I find abhorrent in all writing, or develop an understanding of the character, if not the person. After all, in order to write a convincing character requires a thorough understanding of the character’s mood, desires, and motives.
As soon as one sees with one’s eyes the whole, which one had hitherto only known in chaotic fragments, a new life begins—Johann Goethe
In this quote, Johann Goethe states that once one is able to see the whole and understand it, a new life begins. In short, he describes an epiphany; or; as pop culture labels it, the “light-bulb moment.” The instant in which things just make sense. It’s almost like the point in a mystery novel when you realize exactly who the murder is and where they’re hiding or the moment when the last puzzle piece is dropped into place. Both of these instances require a sudden burst of understanding, but they lack the key element of an epiphany. A new life does not begin.
My own version of an epiphany happened last year around December. It was the first ski team practice and I was attempting to edge. Edging is when the metal edges of the ski cut into slope, allowing the skier to hold a steady “C” shaped curved. This works because most downhill skis are shaped like a stretched violin. Mine weren’t. Shortly after realizing this a pair of Volkl Six Star SuperSport skis came in to my possession.
The difference was amazing. Unlike my old skis, which had to be manhandled into turning, the Volkls turned with the slightest amount of pressure. They cut through the snow effortlessly. There was no going back after that experience. It was truly the beginning of a new life. At least, in relation to skiing.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting—Wil
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. The turn of phrase is almost medieval in flavor. It makes life sound like something that is to be endured, like a journey into the darkness of human folly. The passage is not medieval however. It’s from the poem “Ode: Imitations of Immortality,” which was written during the Romantic Period by England’s Poet Laureate, William Wordsworth. He, and many other romantics, viewed birth, and growing up, as stepping away from Heaven and allowing the world to tear us away from our divine origins. However, unlike medieval philosophy where the only way to redemption was through personal suffering, the romantics believed that through Nature one could reclaim the lost innocence of childhood. Nature was unfettered by the creations of man and therefore pure. It was a reflection of the soul before birth.
Humankind cannot tolerate much reality— T. S. Elliot
We cannot tolerate much reality because we are not conditioned to. In schools we learn conformity. We are kept in line by an intricate system of cards, warnings, colored slips, and eventually letter grades. From the day we start school until graduation we are taught one thing: OBEY. Regardless of whether we’re taking pre-calculus or health, we’ve been trained. The few who avoid such training are squashed with various labels: defiant, problem child, mouthy. They are not allowed to succeed until they conform.
However, it is they who have the best chance of understanding reality while keeping their sanity intact. An example of this would be the character Larry, from The Razor’s Edge (1984 film version). Larry could have, as Isabel laments, done well in school, save for the fact that he was not content with parroting answers and accepting the teachers’ words verbatim. This refusal to conform might be viewed negatively until one considers the fact that out of all the other characters in the movie, Larry is the only one to survive his encounter with reality. The rest crumble when their precious illusions break. Gray is devastated by his father’s suicide and the crash of the stock market. Sophie returns to drugs and alcohol after Isabel’s cruel remarks, and is later murdered. Isabel simply refuses to comprehend even the idea of reality. She has been conditioned to conform and as a results, sees only her cage. Is it any wonder then why humankind cannot handle reality? Few have been truly exposed to it, and those enlightened few walk the razor’s edge between knowledge and madness.
The unexamined life is not worth living—Socrate
Unexamined: not looked at closely, never thought about. In life, this would refer to never second guessing one’s own motives. Socrates declares that a life lived in this type of ignorance is worthless. Of course, he did die because of his search for the Truth, so it’s no wonder, really, that he’d feel so strongly on this topic. Socrates argues that the essence of us, the sentient being that watches our thoughts, is our soul. He found this sort of self-examinati
An unexamined life would be a life lacking such thought-watchi
The only thing that I can relate this to would have to be horseback riding. True riding is defined by unity between the horse and rider. The horse feels like he can express his opinions and be listened to, while the rider is in control of the destination. Allowing the horse to have his own opinion and still do what you, the rider wants is much more difficult than it seems. Allowing the horse to decide the destination is dangerous; horses are like small children and will take advantage of this lack of discipline, regardless of the kind intentions. The way to do it, I learned some Thursday last month, is by giving the horse your self. Essentially, laying down all walls and boundaries, and simply being at the most basic level imaginable. This is impossible without the awareness of self that comes from examination. For how can we give that of ourselves, if we do not even know what we are giving?
So to further explain my condition:
I started to experience mild cramps in my abdomen and back around the 29th or so. Because I normally get pretty bad cramps (anything that I can feel through Ibuprofen counts as pretty bad) I just thought my period was starting. It didn't start until the 1st. However, it was strange because normally cramps only last the first two days. I still had cramps on the last day.
On Thursday morning, around 2 AM I woke up with severe pain in my stomach area. My whole stomach-six-pa
Thursday is horseback riding day and due to the rise in prices I only ride 3 time a month. This was the first riding day in 20 days that I was going riding. So I got a ride to school. First period was okay. I didn't much like standing and watching the experiment. But I was fine. Sitting was nice. Second period sucked. IT's also Math. I was okay in 3rd period (English). I hurt a lot and was pretty much clutching my stomach (lower and upper).
I talked to my friends there. [fire_stone] thought it was celiac disease which is brought on by stress sometimes. [AlleyKat] thought it wasn't appendix-itus because it hadn't been hurting as long as her's and the pain wasn't localized. If anything it hurt more on the left side than the right.
4th period was okay. I don't remember being in much pain.
Lunch sucked. The pain went away after I ate a little.
Ceramics and Spanish were fine.
Then I went to horseback riding. I hurt a bit when I was saddling Easy. When I put the stirrup up over the horn and my stomach brushed against it, it really hurt.
I managed to get through riding. I loped a bit. It was awesome once I finally got my feet out of the way. Granted the bouncing probably wasn't the best thing. After I got off and finished taking care of Easy it really hurt.
My riding teacher said that I looked off and kinda sick. She told me that if the pain got worse I had to go to the hospital.
At about 2:15 AM on friday I woke up with extremely bad pain. We all went to the hospital and ended up waiting FOREVER. I had a bunch of tests run on me. I finally got pain medication and it stopped being a 8 or 9 pain level and went to 3 or 4.
The blood test was inconclusive, but the MRI/CAT scan thingy showed that it was appendix-itus.
I went in for surgery at about 11 AM on friday and was out in 40 minutes. The funny things is the woman/nurse who went in the operating room with me was the mother of a snowboarder on the other high school's team. I gatekept with him once in freshman year. So that's going to be an interesting conversation: "Hey you're mom was my nurse when I went into the OR for surgery!"
I got out on Saturday.
I'm up and walking and eating.
So, my dog. Well, I've had her since I was four. And while I can remember getting her, I don't remember life without her. Seeing as I was four. Not that I want to remember life without.
Well, she's 12 now. Just turned 12 actually, on May 1st (not her really birthdate, but it was somewhere in there).
The last two weeks she wouldn't eat. I was the only one who could get her to eat. Of course, now she isn't eating anything (not even soft dog fog). She'll lick at it but that's it. She's not drinking any water either.
My parents are already planning her funeral.
I just want to be there when they put her down.
I just want to cry on someone's shoulder. I don't want to hear about how I should celebrate her life (contrary to popular belief that is the last thing anyone wants to be told), and I don't want to hear anything about she's going to be in a better place. None of my friends know how hard it is to say goodbye to someone you've known for 3/4 of you life. Anna's dogs died when she was around seven. She didn't have them when they were puppies. And it's easier to handle things like this when you're younger. You're not as attached.
The hardest thing in the world is watching someone die.
Stolen without any hestitation from [Teufelsweib], barrowed without permission from [Tableau Vivant]
H0W SEXY iS UR NAME
Add the letters in your first name using the numbers below =) And Write it at the bottom! And re-post it with "H0W SEXY iS UR NAME"
*under 60 points= not too sexy
*from 61-300 points= pretty sexxy
*over 301-599 points= VERY sexxxxy!!!
*beyond 600= beyond verry verry verry sexy!!!!
A=100 B=14 C=9 D=28 E=145 F=12 G=3 H=10 I=200 J=100 K=114 L=100 M=25 N=450 O=80 P=2 Q=12 R=400 S=113 T=405 U=11 V=10 W=10 X=3 Y=210 Z=23
So either way, my name is VERY sexxxxy!!!.