Speeches are Fun

So now I'm officially done with high school. It's weird, thinking that if I didn't want to, I would never have to go to school again. Of course, in reality I still have another four years, because I don't want to be homeless/live in a box/live in my parents' basement. But still. I'm practically a legal adult, guys. In commemoration of this momentous event, and because apparently everyone who heard it liked it and because you get to read my salutatorian speech. Whee!






Good evening, ladies and gentleman. As some of you probably know, I wasn’t thrilled when I found out that the salutatorian had to give a speech too - I offered Blake five dollars to do it for me. He refused. I’ve winged most of the speeches I ever had to give, so I was nervous. I had no idea about a topic, I had no idea what anecdotes I wanted to include – nothing. I was stuck staring at a blank screen. I searched my past for something on which to base my speech – the least idea of what I might write. I thought about how my class might take anything I say on a certain topic in the light of how they view me. I thought about how I viewed my class. Then I thought about what I was doing, and I realized that I was focusing on the past. I was focusing on what we have been, rather than what we will be. And that’s what graduating is about. Right now, we’re transitioning from our past, from what we’ve done, to our future and what we are going to do.

Right now, we’re completely defined by our pasts. Most of us have been together for four years now, and we’ve all done something that people remember. We’ve probably all done something we wish everyone else would forget, too. I know that I’ve never lived down G1H1 or my Iron Curtain comment – strangely enough, Mr. V was behind both of those. We’ve had to live with stuff like our GPA, our past relationships, and others’ perceptions of us. But now, we’re moving on. We are getting a clean slate, a chance to start over. Once we leave here, we won’t be surrounded by forty-seven people who know us too well. We’ll be around new people, who judge us on our own merits, not our past. We can be the people we want to be.

Graduation is not an ending, it is a beginning. We are moving forward, to new things, new ideas, new people and places. We should not be sad at losing anything, because if we truly value something or someone, we’ll keep in touch. And no matter what, we’ll always have the memories. I don’t think any of us will ever forget Chase's bitty wanter, John's amazing hair in the musical Thirteen, and Meg’s ACL. We’ll remember Guy Levine the push-up machine, Lucas’s floor-rattling bass voice, and Bryce’s drive to win everything he does. We’ll remember Anthony and French 5’s strange obsession with Joel, Madame's husband, Jenny’s artistic abilities, and Gloria’s award-winning cows. Just because high school is finished doesn’t mean we can’t hold on to the memories. Those will be with us forever.

And the best part is that now we get to start making new memories. We are going to new places, we’ll meet new people. We’ll make the best decisions of our lives, but probably a few mistakes along the way. We’ll have our friends, we’ll have our families, and best of all, we have the world. We have the rest of our lives. We have, to quote a famous Doctor, “All of time and space; everywhere and anywhere; every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?”

Stuff and a Character Interview with Cale and Tammany

First, I have a guest post - a legit essay and everything - on the wonderful blog The Critical Psychopath. So. Go check that out.

Second, I applied for Harvard and Carleton today. Neither have the best music performance programs - or, like, any at all - but I applied. With essays and everything. There's a really big part of me that's freaking the fuck out. Because I'm going to be a legitimate adult, with responsibilities and stuff, in less than a year.

And on top of that, it just sort of hit me today that NaNo is in about nine days. I don't remember much after that revelation, but apparently I froze for several minutes and whimpered slightly. It was reported that I was also mouthing "Ohgodohgodohgod."

That more or less sums up my current feelings.

So I know I posted here a warm-up for the TCWT blog chain. That's not going to happen. All the people who say senior year is easier than junior year are lying liars who lie. I'm having to work far harder this year than I ever have before, which means that even a plot with the silliness of Ada Lovelace's ghost isn't going to be feasible, because it requires thought, effort, and a modicum of research. None of these are things I have in excess this November. So. Instead. My current plot idea is taking a bunch of characters I've thought about before and throwing them into that omphalskeptic favorite - "A Bunch of Friends Hang Out In a Coffee Shop and Don't Do Very Much," or as I like to call it, "[CENSORED FOR COPYRIGHT PURPOSES]". Highly original, I know.

On the upside, my favorite teacher and possible new best friend gave me permission to do NaNo for class credit instead of the normal assignments. So all of a sudden I have forty-five minutes a day to dedicate to NaNo that I've never had before. He might even participate in it, too. So there's a good thing.

But back on the topic of my own NaNovel, I have some characters that I've been sitting on for a while. I have the dynamic between them ready, I know who they are - I just need to send them into action. So, without further ado - Tammany Dreisang and Cale Smith.

• What is your lifelong dream?
• T: To own my cafe, which I've technically accomplished. To have it become a local Place, capital P, not just a Starbucks. To own a first edition signed copy of all of Neil Gaiman's books.
• C: To have a successful band. To not have to be an accountant other than for said band.
• T: And me?
• C: ... Fine.
• How do you feel about your life in general?
• C: Other than wishing I had an actual band, it's not bad. Sometimes a bit lonely, but whatever.
• T: I'm good. I don't really want anything more than what I've got now, except maybe a few more customers. I'm easily contented, I guess.
• C: Except when it comes to the last muffin.
• T: Shut up or I will end you.
• What do you fear most?
• C: Being a white-bread accountant for the rest of my life. And spiders. Spiders are scary.
• T: Teenage vandal hooligans with spray paint coming after the cafe at night and defacing all it's windows with nastiness.
• C: Bit specific, isn't it?
• T: At least it's not spiders. 
• If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be?
• T: San Fransisco, definitely. 
• C: Can I travel in time, too?
• No.
• C: Then... Sundance?
• Acceptable.
• T: How are you talking to the questionnaire? Is that even possible?
• C: Trade secret.
• What's the worst argument you've ever been in?
• C: Well, there was a nasty political argument that sort of got me exiled from my group of friends junior year of college, but I think the worst would be when I took Tammany's muffin. She would not rest until I had been thoroughly doused in cheez-wiz.
• T: You absolutely deserved it. A once in a lifetime experience - a cranberry triple-chocolate muffin with walnuts, custom-made by my favorite bakery, and you eat it. Idiot.
• C: You covered me with cheez-wiz. You are not the sane one here.
• T: Well, you grabbed the whipped cream and started spraying me back.
• C: Self-defense.
• Who's your best friend?
• C: We just told you about a cheez-wiz and whipped cream fight.  You need to ask.
• T: Yeah, honestly.
• If you knew you were going to meet your true love tomorrow, how would you react?
• T: I'd laugh so hard I'd probably pull something. 
• C: Hey, don't knock love.
• T: Wait, the high and mighty Cale with a soft side? Be still my beating heart. No such thing as true love.
• Final question: How would you react if your friends suddenly no longer wanted anything to do with you?
• C: Ask what took them so long. Go write depressing songs. Maybe move.
• T: Spend the night sobbing. Maybe get falling-down drunk and make some new friends.
• C: I don't think I've ever seen you drunk. No one likes you.
• T: Shut up, muffin-stealer.

I honestly really like these two. They'll be fun to write, at the very least. Next are Jim, Morgan and Nathan.

Homecoming and Details about my Personal Life

Dear lord, the past couple days. They've been. They've been weird.

So first, there was homecoming. The game was relatively normal, meaning we lost badly and it was abso-freaking-lutely freezing. I had on two pairs of gloves, two t-shirts, a sweater, a winter jacket, a knithat, thick sneakers and thick rugby socks, and I spent most of the game wrapped around a friend for warmth and blankets. The poor people with only two or three layers and blankets nearly got frostbite. "Welcome to the Tundra," my frozen blue fingers.

The senior class, aka my class, won the float competition for the fourth year in a row. Because we're awesome and build awesome stuff. It helps that we've got a ton of the robotics team in our class. The skill sets are largely the same. It's just sized up about a thousand percent.

You can see my epic long jacket in the background, just sort of on the ground.

Then there was the day of the dance. I have no good pictures. However, I'll give you one anyway. I'm the tall person. Normally I am not that tall, but I have four inch heels on. And I will admit that my glorious friend happens to be a bit short. You cannot tell in this picture, but it is still abso-freaking-lutely freezing out. No girl was wearing anywhere near enough clothing for the pictures. It was cold.

Then it was off to dinner. We ended up at the local mall, because apparently Mongolian theme restaurants are all the rage during homecoming, and people from all five schools who had homecoming this week went. (Sidenote - seriously? Five homecomings in one week? Awful scheduling, that.) But our replacement restaurant was awesome. They gave us crayons and covered the table in a huge sheet of paper. Never have seven teenagers had so much fun while waiting for food to arrive. I was given four cuplets of sweet honey mustard by people who don't understand why mustard is awesome. I ate three of them. It was good.

Then we went for a walk through the mall. Because my glorious friend (seen above) wanted a picture with a taxidermied bear, we ended up going through Scheel's, which for the uninformed is basically where hicks and hillbillies and sporty people get all their stuff. We wandered through while wearing our homecoming regalia. We got the weirdest looks.

Then the dance. I ended up at the dance a full half an hour or more before everyone else, because it took six people to get two people back to their car and then come back without anyone getting seriously lost. During that time I danced by myself next to the awesome juniors. And then I danced with the awesome seniors once they finally got back. It was cool. My legs didn't catastrophically cramp from heels and dancing even once. I ended up with two placards from the dance, because no one can spell or double-check what my name is. Not that I mind.

That's about it for homecoming. Yesterday my debit card had a SNAFU and I had an epic tech-support battle, and got all my money back from the store that ate it. So that's all good.

And finally, because you all care dearly about my personal life to keep reading this far, there's been the underlying psychological drama of realizing that I have a thing for a guy and that it's possible he might have a thing for me. At the very least, he spends a lot of time looking at me in the classes we share. God, I'm socially awkward. Someone just insert my mind into the internet and put me out of my misery.

That's all.

Homecoming

Hello people. First of all, I need to announce that my posting schedule is going to become way more erratic now. I was in denial about this at the beginning of the year, and that denial created this big long gap in posts. So. I shall still update. But not regularly. Sorry.

Second of all - it's homecoming week this week. Which is awesome. The week before homecoming sucked, because I had to plan the first pep rally and get everything ready for that, which was a surprisingly large amount of work, but now my bit's over and all I need to do is enjoy the week and destroy the younger classes at tug-of-war. I have gloves, even, to get a better grip, and tennis shoes for traction on the gym floor. Oh yeah. I'm hardcore.

I've rediscovered my girlyness a bit during the wonderful event known as float-building. (It's self-explanatory. We build a float for the homecoming parade. For some reason, we do this with wood, chicken wires, and lots and lots of napkins.) I've been sitting and gossiping and stuffing napkins through chicken wire the past three nights and getting about five hours of sleep per night. I've also borrowed a homecoming dress from a friend, and aside from being a bit short, I love it. It's very purple. I may wear it with argyle tights. I may even post a picture of it all here, if I get one I like.

-Up to the Minute News- I just showed some other people the dress. The general consensus is pretty, but perhaps scandalously shirt. Which means in the context of this school, longer than a pair of short-shorts but more than six inches above the knee.

I've introduced the school to the wonder that is bacon salt - a wonderful wonder indeed. I am currently trying to give away as much popcorn as I can, and contemplating whether lunch is worth it when I just ate my weight in crepes and Nutella. It may not be. If all else fails, I can subsist on popcorn for the rest of the day. I've got a lot of popcorn. Like, a lot a lot. Although Yearbook seems to be eating through it pretty well. That, and my bacon salt.

I'm not actually going to go technobowling for homecoming. It was close there, for a while, but instead we decided technobowling is next week, and that we'll wear our homecoming outfits to do it. We're cool like that. Definitely. And it's laser tag before prom in the spring.  We're so cool.

College Visit!

So as one of you knows, I'm on a college visit to the far off and strange land of Minnesota. It is so far off and strange that we saw snowflakes this morning at the hotel - something that would never happen in Wisconsin. All the natives act surprised, but I'm onto them. This place is odder than it seems.

So I've done a bunch of stuff whilst here at the college I'm visiting. I've done the requisite tour and information session, I've gotten a sweatshirt (I'm wearing it now) and blue and gold rugby socks (unfortunately, I'm not wearing those). The normal stuff.

I'm on an overnight stay, though, so beyond the normal stuff I've also hung around with college students all afternoon, evening, and night. They're fun. We walked the forest trails on campus, hung out with some freshmen, and I learned some choreography for a volunteer dance troupe. Belly-dancing lessons, even only three weeks last year, came in handy. I more or less fell in love with the place.

Then the evening happened, which was interesting until it got late and I went back to my host's dorm room.

Also - I discovered a new allergy, and decided on substance-free housing after seeing students on their way to and from various parties. There are stories behind both of those comments. However, it's late, I'm super sleepy, and I've an interview in the morning, so they will wait for another day. Maybe once I'm actually attending a college.

Socialization: Not Just For Other People!

I never realize how unsocial I normally am until something or someone smacks me upside the head and says "Go do something!" That's more or less what happened yesterday. I had a jazz band concert (nothing like getting sheet music two weeks before a concert, except for maybe have less than an hour's worth of rehearsal with the full band before said concert) and some vocal solos at a local Oktoberfest.* And I actually talked with people - my favorite sophomore and junior, as well as New Senior. I need better names for all these people, honestly. We checked out the car show that is a necessary part of a Wisconsin Oktoberfest , drooled over various old cars, discussed whether metallic orange was really a good color for a classic pickup, and then hiked up the two-hundred foot high hill to get back to our various cars, bemoaning the fact that the parking lot was at the top rather than at the bottom.

Then I was assailed with a text informing me that my best friend was in dire need of someone to come to a party with him, because it was being run by the local church youth organization and he couldn't get out of attending. I had a mental battle with myself - go, rescue him from the likely complete awfulness that such an event would entail, and have to sit through it myself? Or stay home, not deal with the sort of people who would consider me a heathen devil sent to murder them, and let him sit through it alone, knowing his tolerance for that kind of stuff is only about a percent higher than mine?

I went.

And much to my surprise, the worst of it was the fact that we were basically the oldest people there. There was no Kumbaya singing, there was no lecture on the evils of atheism and homosexuality, and no one entreated me to accept Jesus as my lord and savior. In fact, there was Capture the Flag and Ninja. I was crowned queen of the Ninjas (empress, maybe?), because Ninja is something at which I rock like a hobby horse. I have no idea whether the Zombies or the Ninjas won Capture the Flag, because by then it was nine o'clock, people kept moving the boundary line, and it was pitch black out. My friend and I mostly just hid in the bushes by our flag and jumped out to tag and terrify any little kids who might be coming in that general direction. It was pretty cool

Then we went back to his house and I watched him and his little brother play ping pong and talk trash at each other, laughing so hard I thought I was going to fall off my chair. It was a good night.



*If you don't know what Oktoberfest is, you immediately lose any right to claim German heritage and your alcohol tolerance falls by fifty percent.

This Posting Thing is Hard

First - mea culpa. School is hard and distracting and the head cold from Hades hit two days ago, so I've only been partially conscious for the past seventy-two hours. (Boo! Hiss!) Hush, imaginary audience spawned by cold medicine, I'm making my apologies. You aren't helping.

Second - Today's my birthday! I'm officially a year away from being a Legal Adult. I no longer need parental permission to give blood. I can get senioritis and only be normally annoying. Good stuff.

I received, so far, cash, from the vast extended family that my mom knows intimately and I've never met; a GPS to remedy the sense of direction that can lead me in circles until I lay down in the metaphorical sand pit that's following me and wait to be rescued; a MLP cake, because my parents think they're funny; a Doctor Who shirt that tells the world Rule #1 (The Doctor Lies); a thing of Thunderstorm perfume that I can't actually smell yet, but I'm told it smells like dust and wet grass; and finally, a poster of my favorite painting, Chop Suey by Hopper.

So pretty.

I've used the GPS to get to school, I've used the perfume and I'm told I smell quite nice, although that's mostly hearsay at this point, I'm in relaxed dress (which means jeans, because my school is the kind that requires collared shirts and khakis normally) and wearing the Doctor Who shirt, and the poster is on my bed at home, waiting for me to figure out what posters get the chop to get it to fit on my walls.

Robotics began last night, and all my favorite people are on the team. It's pretty cool. Even Intelligent New Senior Guy with an Amazing Voice is on it. My only issue is that I'm beginning to suspect he's me, only gender-swapped.

My ginger and I found out that we're actually living in each other's heads, after we spent about two minutes talking in sync with each other and finishing each other's sentences. The rest of the seniors ran away from us, convinced he'd stolen my soul and was using it for demonic purposes.

I diagrammed sentences in English whilst valiantly battling my sinuses for air. Diagramming's hard, people. It's as hard as correctly reading maps. I'm no good at either.

And now I'm doing college applications. I'm up to three on the Common App, which is awesome. That means I only have one extra to do, and that's for U Idaho, and therefore should not be too hard. Now excuse me, I need to go see if drilling a hole into my sinuses will relieve the pressure.

Tiny Mini-Post (Now with Extra River Water)

Here's a quick rundown on what's happened in the past twenty-four hours:

• So at some point yesterday, I hit my thousandth view, and I'm pretty sure only about half of those were attributable to spambots. You guys are cool, you know that? 
• Twenty-one hours ago, I went to the reunion party, and spent it singing show tunes whilst being accompanied by an awesome dude I probably won't see again. Also, we watched a taping of the show, which was awesome. 
• Four hours ago, I went out to go picture-hunting for my new job.
• Two hours ago, I found a fountain. 
• An hour and a half ago, I fell in a fountain. 
• Eighty-nine minutes ago, I realized the fountain was basically river water and thus nasty and filled with paper mill gunk. 
• Eighty-eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds ago (give or take a few) I all but levitated out of the fountain and started squishing back to my car.
• An hour ago, I had to explain to my family why I now smelled like nasty river water.
• Fifty-five minutes ago, I was sprayed down with a hose before I was allowed to enter the house.
• Fifty minutes ago, I finally got to the shower so I could stop smelling like the river, much to my relief.

It's been interesting. I'm going out again in a couple minutes to finish grabbing pics, to make up for those that I didn't take because I was overbalancing into a fountain. At least my camera didn't get wet.

Chocolate and Weekends (Why I Like People)

So this is my first weekend of the school year. I have chocolate (I assisted a friend with the eight page summer Calculus assignment. He was appreciative) and I just got a job that pays surprisingly well. It's basically taking pictures and filling in paperwork. I am the paperwork queen. I can fill in paperwork like a boss. And my camera is a boss camera, too. It has three different interchangeable lenses. Yeah. That kind. So. But that's half of why I like people right now - they apparently want to give me chocolate and cash for doing what I end up doing anyway. (There is an ungodly amount of paperwork involved in being a senior. Like, a lot a lot.)

Also, I have a party this afternoon, the reunion party from Mame. I'll get to see bunches of people again (except for the FOUR PEOPLE WHO LEFT FOR COLLEGE. They know who they are. And probably don't read this blog) and eat junk food and ignore the literature analysis paper I have to write. (In my own defense, I've already written a paper and half a short story this weekend.) And that's the other reason why I like people right now - because so many of them are cool and throw parties to which I can go.

In general, though, I like people anyway. There are the occasional [inventive expletive deleted] whom I wouldn't mind if they just sort of fell off the planet, due to some freak accident with a trampoline and a tomato, but by and large, people are cool. Rousseau is right, in my opinion. Even the people who I'd prefer were quietly turning into further debris in Earth's ring might be cool in another context. For example, the most hated teacher at my school (disliked to the point where pronouncing 'false' as 'faltz' is both instantly recognizable and will get you smacked for reminding people of her) is also a loving mother and volunteer. I just would prefer to never be in her company ever again.

But I like people, in general. I've got fundie friends (although I'm not entirely sure they've caught onto my beliefs), jock friends, friends who spend their days working on linux stuff (Oh, yeah, that experiment? Only semi-successful. The computer gained sentience and growls at me whenever I try turning it on), and friends who give me blank looks whenever I use a word with more than two syllables. I like all of them, as long as we stay off certain topics of conversation. People are generally nice, and I find it pays to give them all the benefit of a doubt.

Also, people like happy people who like them back. It forms a feed-back loop of shared chocolate and party invitations, one that I take full advantage of. If people are willing to give me chocolate, eclairs, and party invites because I give them recommendations and smile a lot - I'm completely good with that. That... doesn't sound like I meant it. But still.

School and My Opinions About It

Quick self-promotion: guest post on La Stranezza's blog! 

School started (is starting) today. I'm a little torn right now, because on one hand, I get to talk to everyone again without having to figure out where my phone went. On the other, school is starting, and there is no longer any caffeine sold in the cafeteria. (EDIT: Yes, there is. I just didn't see it. Alas.) I'm a bit exhausted. Because of that, this is a class by class breakdown and opinion series!

• Senior release
• I'd like this better if it weren't at the beginning of the day, when I can't sleep in. Right next to lunch, maybe, so I could wander off for an hour or so. Probably going to be my designated piano/choir time, since I'm not technically in that class this semester.
• AP English Lit.
• This is a good class, if I ignore Jack the [donkey] who sits in front of me. We have to diagram sentences this year, though, because the last senior class sort of sucked and did know a verb from a prepositional phrase. I'll be able to remember that, though.
• Creative Writing Independent Study
• Favorite class, bar none. A one-on-one class with my favorite teacher, Mr. H., in my co-favorite subject. Yes. I have free reign to write whatever I want. Je l'adore.
• Side note:  Facebook and Armor Games aren't blocked. My productivity (what there was of it) just disappeared like a mirage.
•  Ecumenical Issues
• I'd love the teacher if he taught anything else. At least this is basically comparative religion.
• Update: Homework assigned first day. A one page essay due tomorrow.
• Side note: 'A one' looks weird, but sounds right. I think I'll call it 'a single,' but I'm not correcting it, because this side note would then be pointless. 
• Jazz Band (during lunch) 
• This is going to be fun. Also: new senior alert! Intelligent, musical senior! Mission: Get to know him.
• French 5
• All three of us. We've been in French together since freshmen year. The class has shrunk every year. Now there's three of us left, and only one shall survive, on.... Survivor: French Edition!!
• I hate myself a little for that sentence.
• Yearbook
• I'm Senior editor now, in charge of all the pages involving Seniors. Which is like a third of the yearbook. Huzzah for responsibilities and resume-building! Also for having Mr. H twice a day! Woo!
• Physics
• This is the scary teacher, but I love her. She's intense. My first day ever at high school, second semester, first class, 7:45 AM, she pulled out a Vandergraph generator and shocked the jock in front of me who didn't know what it was. I sort of want to be her when I grow up.
• Calc. B
• This is the teacher that makes me a real teacher's pet. She is amazing. She is the reason I got an 800 on my SAT for math. And I'm pretty sure this class is going to be sink-or-swim, honestly. It'll be fun.

  There we go. School is basically over and I'm going home to do homework. Fun. *headdesk*

Liebster Blog Award (also a list of my favorite authors)

So I get back from a doctor's appointment in the Big City a hundred miles away, feeling exhausted due to lack of sleep, getting vaccinated for meningitis, and traveling in a car for two hundred miles before two, and what do I find waiting for me? A blog award nomination.

Hi, Liam. I am distracted from my woes now.
 

“The Liebster Award is for bloggers with fewer than 200 followers. Award winners share 11 facts about themselves, answer the 11 questions asked by the blogger who tagged them, come up with 11 of their own questions and tag 11 more bloggers with the award.”

I give fair warning that I'm only nominating one other person for the award, because all the blogs I follow that are eligible have already been nominated, and I want to avoid redundancies. And it's still all ones in the number, it's just one less one. One one one. That word no longer means anything. Also, I'm going to use the facts sections to air out all my reading habits and recommend all my current favorite books. Because they need to be known.

IN ANY CASE. Eleven facts about myself.

1. My arm sort of hurts, guys. It's just all sore and achy and not good. It hurt to pick up my cat. To be fair, the cat weighs nearly seventeen pounds, but still. Not cool.
2. I have finished my third Neal Stephenson novel of the month. That's twenty five hundred pages. 2500. That's a lot, and all of it's complex number-stuff, philosophical musings, baroque (or as he'd spell it, Barock) plot twists, meta-history, future-history, meta-sideways-multiverse history, or financial stuff. He created proofs for some of his work in Anathem. That's dedication. I feel accomplished just finishing the novels.
3. My mind is being simultaneously blown and reconstructed by my required summer reading, How To Read Literature Like A Professor. It's exactly what it sounds like, only occasionally funny. It's making me think on my summer break, and that only ever leads to strange and scary connections, like realizing the whole Shakespearean tragedy aspect of Shades of Grey, by Jasper Fforde. It's like Romeo and Juliet turned inside out, because the people are idiot, but they actually go about trying to fix things instead of just sobbing about it before they kill themselves in angst. It was cool once I got it.
4. On the same topic, more or less, my mind works in stories. So do yours' (Hi, you two faithful readers). But not just yours. Everyone's does. This was pointed out to me for the first time in Science of Discworld II: The Globe, and it's stuck in my mind ever since. As soon as I have time, I'm going to write a whole post on it, I swear.
5. And segueing into the topic of books by Terry Pratchett, I'm halfway through The Fifth Elephant right now, and I'm noticing that his books have a more or less infinite reread value. They're still funny, even the fourth time you read them, and you notice new harmonics every time. I only just noticed that the 'clacks,' which are a cross between semaphore towers and telegraph lines, rhymes with 'fax,' which is how it gets used half the time. He did that on purpose. It's always on purpose, with Pratchett.
6. I only have two three more authors to rave about, so hold on, I'll give you some actual facts soon. Neil Gaiman is possible the best author I have ever read, barring the other authors mentioned in this post. He turns everything into a dream. His stories operate on dream logic, but a special kind that holds together like a spiderweb beaded with dew, intact even once morning comes. I love it I love it I love it. *ahem* Moving on.
7. Two! Douglas Adams had the same kind of dream-logic thing going on, only instead of spiderwebs and myth and horror holding it all together, it's humor. He turned towels and a perfectly innocent number into things that will forever be a kind of shibboleth among myself and all the others who've read and loved his work. Also, I can't talk about cars in Britain in the 1980's without laughing anymore. Which is a topic that comes up more often than you'd think. (Three times. I've had that conversation three times.)
8. Last one! Go read Tamora Pierce's stuff. Start with the Song of the Lioness quartet and work your way chronologically through the rest of her Tortall series, and never ever regret it. Her books have the absolute best characterizations, twistiest plots, wittiest dialogue and amazing battle scenes ever. They get better as they go, up until her Beka Cooper prequels, which kept me up reading until two AM, which isn't something I do except for the writers on this list. I would be a completely different person if I hadn't gotten a hold of her books at the age of nine and reread them roughly once a year since.
9. I feel like I sort of copped out for the previous seven facts, so here's a real fact: I'm more or less addicted to being weird in public. Not weird like disgusting, but weird as in breaking social norms. Wearing ankle-length coats and high heels to go to the book store. Wearing an evening gown out shopping. Organizing impromptu a capella concerts in the park with my choir friends. Talking completely seriously about the next Hunting of the Snipe on public transport with my punk rock friend. It's pretty cool.
10. I'm also in danger of becoming addicted to performances. There's nothing like the rush of taking a bow in front of a standing ovation, be it for a concert or a musical. If I could earn a living doing nothing but perform, I'd gladly give a kidney. I've got two of those, it can't hurt.
11. There's both a model dragon and a model TIE fighter hanging from my ceiling. Science fiction/fantasy, distilled down to two images that pop up when the classification is mentioned, and hanging from the roof over my head. I like it.

Finished!

Wait, now I need to answer actual questions. Huh.

1. What is the best book you ever read containing the concept of time travel, and what made it so good?  Was it the time travel or something else?
1. The best book concerning time travel would probably be the Thursday Next series, just all of it, by Jasper Fforde. If I had to choose one, it would be First Among Sequels, because that is the book in which time travel plays the largest part. And the time travel is amazing, but that's not what's so good. It's the huge meta-fictional basis of the thing, in which no fiction is safe and the book will reference itself without mercy. I have never suffered from a fit of giggles so badly as when I was reading Fforde, except maybe when I read Adams or Pratchett.
2. What is the longest and strangest sounding word you can think of on short notice?  (No Googling.)
1. Sesquipedalian.  Because it means what it is and sounds like what squid feels like. Don't ask me to explain that, because I really can't.
3. What are three expressions you commonly use that originated in Shakespeare?  (You can Google for this if you need to, I suppose.)
1. "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!"
2. "To be, or not to be, that is the question!"
3.  "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest."
4. What is your opinion on the theory that people brush their teeth in opposite rotation directions based on the hemisphere they live in?  (Bonus points if you reference the Coriolis Effect– even more if you actually know what it is.)
1. I think it's completely stupid, to be honest. The Coriolis Effect doesn't work like that. It's more a thing dependent on the person's brain. I, for example, don't brush in a rotation. I just go back and forth or up and down. The curve in reference to a rotation frame doesn't have anything at all to do with this.
5. What type of humor do you appreciate most in fiction: humorous dialogue, funny descriptions, funny character histories, satire in the narrative, etc….?  Add your own if you wish.
1. All of it. Just... all of it. Satire and funny descriptions have a special place in my heart, because they are something Pratchett excels at, but I've been sent into fits of giggling by all the things mentioned. It just has to be witty.
6. What’s your favorite key on the keyboard?  (You know you have one.  Don’t even try to bluff it out.)
1. E above middle C or B flat above middle C. It might be alarming that I didn't have to think about that.
2. EDIT: I have been informed that Liam meant the thing I'm typing on, not the instrument. His reaction? "Only a musician." Very true, and I'll own up to that completely. SO THE REAL ANSWER: My favorite would probably be the Tab key. I don't know why. It just is.
7. What’s your least favorite key on the keyboard?  [Insert above parenthetical here.]
1.  I dislike the highest C and the three keys below the last C, because my piano these are the keys that can never again be tuned properly without restringing the whole piano. So I don't like them.
2. EDIT: See above. SO THE REAL ANSWER: I have a thing against the little Microsoft key that my current computer has. It's pointless. It has one function only. It's boring. It doesn't even type a little Microsoft symbol. They could have programmed in a shortcut with as little work and less wasted plastic. /rant.
8. If you could shoot one historical personage, who?  (Excluding anyone who has been assassinated already.  Duh.)
1. Hitler would be the obvious answer, but I'm going to go with the guy who assassinated Duke Ferdinand. Wait, no, check that, take out Lee Harvey Oswald, or at the very least Sirhan Sirhan. All preferably before the assassinations that would make them famous.
9. If you could shoot one fictional character– even to spite someone who will shoot them later in the book, and whether or not there is a weapon that can actually shoot in their time period or setting– who?  (No restrictions, except that you cannot describe the death in all its gory detail.)
1.  I'd shoot Mr. de Mauve, from Shades of Grey, because he ruined a perfectly good bittersweet ending with a petty bribe and made it an awful lot more bitter. Idiot. He is the only character towards which I really harbor a death wish against, in all of fiction. The rest get what they have coming toward them.
10. As we reach the penultimate question, what springs into your head when you hear “penultimate”?  The ultimate pen, translated badly from French (where, as everyone knows, all the words are in the wrong order)?  A penalty mate– a friend who is only stuck with you when you do something really really bad?  Something else?  (The only restriction is that you cannot say the actual definition of the word.)
1. "This is space. It's sometimes called the final frontier. (Except that of course you can't have a final frontier, because there'd be nothing for it to be a frontier to, but as frontiers go, it's pretty penultimate...)." Because Terry Pratchett is my favorite of all favorite things.
11. If you could capture a single creature out of any myth created by man at least a hundred years before the present year, which would you choose?  (Do not go into detail.  I’m not giving writing prompts; I’m giving questions for you to answer.  If you want to take these as writing prompts, do so by all means– I will claim royalties.  Oh, and do not say you’d catch a unicorn.  Just don’t.)
1.  I would probably capture either one of the little men that people kept sighting in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, or the creator of the Voynich manuscript. Technically the second one isn't necessarily a creature of myth, but since we don't know who it was, I'm declaring it legal.

One more thing to go.

1. What is your favorite television show?
2. How many books do you read in a month, on average?
3. Can you roll your tongue?
4. What's your favorite song?
5. What would you do, if you knew that nothing you did in the next hour would have no negative repercussions?
6. If you were suddenly placed in the movie 'The Birds,' what would you do to survive?
7. Do you think dragons are awesome or merely tired cliches? Why?
8. Where would you go, if you could go anywhere in the world (or out of it)?
9. Pirates or ninjas?
10. If given the choice, would you prefer to live forever with no guarantee of bodily health, or have  eternal youth, but no guarantee of living forever?
11. What is your favorite historical person?

La Stranezza, I nominate you. I'm pretty sure that's a safe bet. Go forth and answer questions!



Now to go write legitimate things.

An Actual Post About Stuff

Hello people. I know there are at least a couple of you out there, because the majority of the hits on this blog are from the US instead of Russia. (On the subject of blog hits, someone got here using the search 'scared I drank mold.' I am, of course, the premier source of information on what to do if you're suffering from mold poisoning. Obviously.) You three are cool.

My musical is going more or less swimmingly. I love it. There's an awesome review here. I'm not mentioned, because I don't have a huge part, but still. And everything said in the article is true, and everyone in the show is awesome (especially some other people who weren't mentioned - Kitty, Claire, and Andrew, you are all too cool). I'm going to be taking pictures of my costumes tomorrow and doing a post with pictures, because the costumes are amazing. And I sort of want to buy the party dress for a Homecoming outfit, just to see how people would react, because I love it.

I'm quite happy right now, is it obvious? I've gotten enough sleep for the first time since dress rehearsals about two weeks ago, so I'm on my own little natural high. Wheeee!

I've discovered during the course of the shows so far that I'm possibly clinically oblivious to certain normally obvious things, like when I'm being flirted at. However, someone is beating me with a metaphorical cluebat, which is appreciated, and I will have updates on that later, I hope.

No, please use it! I'm so confused!

Later today, I'm going to a movie to see off one of my best friends, who's going to college in four days. Then tomorrow or the day after, I'm making random pancakes with Kitty and her girlfriend, to see her off to college. I'm in a bit of a Peter Pan state, therefore, covering my ears and going 'lalala I'm never going to grow up you can't make me lalala.' Very mature. But since I've been writing college essays in between doing Camp NaNo, it's not working very well. At least I can reuse them once or twice. And then I have to write my resume and get senior pictures taken tomorrow and apply for scholarships and go on a final college visit and figure out how to take Creative Writing as a class (thereby making NaNo a legitimate use of my time) and survive five more shows and audition for the next play and...

You know, excuse me. I'm going to go and watch childhood cartoons for a while and pretend I'm six.

YES.

Final Preparation

So Camp Nano 2012, August Edition starts in eleven hours and twenty minutes for me, as I write this. I'm hoping to start at midnight, for that all-important head start. And so, if I'm very good and/or very lucky, I'll have 3k words - perhaps an entire chapter! - to be posted sometime tomorrow afternoon. My average wordcount goal is once again 2k a day, but it never hurts to have a buffer.

In other news, Mame opens in a week and a half. So I've got an entire other thing to be freaking out about, so non-story posts may be a little thin on the ground until I stop hyperventilating. Sorry. Go watch me dance (I'm the one with the pale, pale legs) or read TVTropes. Or read about zombies.


Link to Portable Solar Panels

Sunburns and Jobs and Absences, Oh My!

So I had orientation for my summer temp job yesterday, and I got to walk around behind the scenes at EAA's Airventure for a good two hours, being orientated and watching the helicopters and biplanes and awesome cars fly and/or drive around. I'm working at the Ford tent, stamping booklets for people, so I'm going to be sitting out of the sun among brand new Mustangs, F-150s, and other cars whose names I don't remember. It was all very interesting, and I might get to meet George Lucas (We were told to always address him as Mr. Lucas should we see him. That was an actual warning they gave us. No lie). However, being the highly intelligent and utterly prepared person that I am, I wore a tank top to the orientation, thinking that we would be given our uniform shirts right away and not wanting to roast. I also did not wear sunscreen, because the bits of me that are visible whilst wearing a t-shirt no longer burn. They have lost that capability in self-defense.

Unfortunately, we did not get our uniforms until the very end, and we did not put them on at any time. So I walked around, outside, in the 90 degree weather, with no shade, for approximately an hour and a half, correcting for the short periods of time I spent under a tent. I am sunburnt beyond belief. I am a shade that, when seen on a human's epidermis, is typically deemed 'lobster' or 'tomato'. Clothing hurts. So do goosebumps. With the interesting tanlines created by my tank top and bra straps, I look like a candy-cane made of flesh. It huuuurts. (I wonder how many hits I'm going to get for 'flesh candy-cane'. Hi, slightly creepy people!)

'Kay, so now that I've finished complaining, the reason for this informative but slightly rambling bit is this: for the next five days, I'm not going to be around, what with working 9 to 5, then rehearsing until 9 again. I'm going to go and rescue poems and rants from my notebook, though, so there shall be posts! Huzzah!

Now I'm going to go put more creme on my shoulders. It huuuurts.

Rambling Thing About Yesterday

So. Yesterday. Yeah. About that.

So the day started at four, when I left for a friend's new house. Shut up, it's summer, I'm technically nocturnal now. I had my swim suit, because he has a hot tub, and if there is a hot tub I will rewire the house to be able to play whatever videogames are being played from within the hot tub and/or set up a string-and-can system to be able to participate in the conversations. Because hot tubs are that awesome. But then I showed up, and found out that the hot tub no longer worked due to some mechanical issue or another and I had never gotten the text telling me this. Sad face. Plus I now had to wander around for the rest of the day with a halter top bikini under my clothes.

Then there was the awkward hour and a half where Rockband was played, other people were given directions to the house that consisted of, and I quote, 'Just keep taking lefts until the road isn't blocked off any more,' more Rockband, a search for the ring I lost (which turned out to be at home,) and finally sitting and staring at each other while Devin sat in the corner making prank calls to random numbers.

Then Baustin received a text inviting us all to Chickenfest, which we leapt on because we'd completely run out of ideas of what to do since there was no hot tub. Having learned from experience, when we drove over I rode with Baustin, because Austin is a scary driver. And considering the fact that we saw him nearly cause three accidents in the twenty minute drive there, it was a wise choice. Seriously, freaking SCARY.

Then we got to Chickenfest (there were no chickens in evidence, sadly) and I discovered how much testosterone poisoning I was suffering when I turned into a freaking Valley Girl at the sight of Jess, my one stereotypically girly friend. I squee'd. I don't do that unless I'm in fangirl mode. Of course, I got free unlimited rides and a VIP pass for the concert from her because she didn't want to 'waste it on the guys,' so yay for me, I guess?

The concert was Stefano, apparently an American Idol reject. It probably says something about me that while the tweenage girls around us were screaming his name, I was spending way more time checking out the keyboard (and keyboardist) and sound system (and sound guy). Still not worth the bleeding ears from the tweenagers, though.

Then we (the guys and the girls) all met up by a gigantic motorized street-legal shopping cart and BSed for a while before Baustin wandered away, then called me to say that I had to head to the woods because FIREFLIES. Of course I promptly headed towards the woods. Jess followed, because no way no HOW was she letting me hang in the woods with the guy she wanted to be Her Guy. Right about then I remembered why I only have one girly friend, because she was becoming highly irritating and I just wanted to hang with my best friend and watch fireflies.

There were fireflies. It was cool. Then we all got slightly lost in the woods.

Yeah, walking through the woods after dark with no flashlights and no clue where we were going was a bad idea. Moving on.

There was a playground back in the festival area, so of course we took over the tire swing and just hung out talking and listening to the slightly above mediocre cover band perform in the tent behind us. Then I left, or tried to leave, and when I found out I couldn't due to directional issues I went back and found out everyone else had left. Which, of course, meant that I headed to the VIP concert section and listened to the final concert of the evening, a better cover band, and rocked out until my ride showed.





*A recent survey revealed 95% of my friends are guys. A further 4% are girls that are about as 'girly' as a pink flamethrower. Then there's Jess.

I'm Blind and I Can't Even Use My FIngers to Read

"It is a rare mind indeed that can render the hitherto non-existent blindingly obvious. The cry 'I could have thought of that' is a very popular and misleading one, for the fact is that they didn't, and a very significant and revealing fact it is too."
- Douglas Adams 

(42nd post - w00t!)






First and foremost, if there are any errors in this post that have escaped my notice, I apologize. I'm half-blind and hunt-and-peck typing my way through this post, because of reasons that will become clear.


The following is me complaining about blood-related things. Don't read if squeamish.
There, my warning-duty is done.
 
Today, I tried to give blood. I've done so successfully three times in the past, and had one unsuccessful attempt, so I was feeling relatively confident in my ability to let them sap off some of my fluids. I even got up early (7:00 am is early during the summer) to get to the bus on time for my appointment. 


I'm currently typing this rather more slowly and inaccurately, because I have two pricked fingers wrapped in medical gauze, and I have the same amount of blood in me as I did this morning. Evidently I'm slightly anemic, and do not have enough iron to be able to give someone else some. Bah. Vegetarians don't need iron, we need cellulose.


But I did get a free cookie out of it, so that's cool. I just need to reschedule my appointment to such a time as I have remembered to take iron supplements. 


Blood-stuff is over. 

Summation: my fingers hurt. Typing hurts. Bah.









Relating to the blindness bit: funny story, that.

I have a super strong glasses perscription, to the point that without my glasses I cannot make out faces at seven feet. If I were glasses-less, I'd have to be about four inches from my screen as I type this, to make sure I could actually read what I type. I'm regularly asked if I'm legally blind. (Answer: not yet, but give it a couple years, I'm sure it will happen eventually.)

My current (read: soon-to-be former) glasses I got off one of those glasses-sites, where they're super cheap and look cool. While I quite like how they look, the site (which shall remain unnamed) did a sucky job on the anti-glare coating and didn't use the high-index polycarbon that I asked for. In short, the glasses are super shiny and roughly half an inch thick at the edges. Not good. Also, they have this unfortunate tendency to fall off my face at innopportune moments


But I was okay with this until this morning. This morning, that tendency of my glasses to fall off was demonstrated, and they fell off and onto the floor. I was even okay with that, because it wasn't exactly unprecedented. 


Then I picked them up and the left side basically exploded into its component parts.

Suffice to say, I had a problem with that.

After I spent several fruitless minutes trying to use an eyeglasses screwdriver and sheer pluck to get the tiny little screw through its hole so the lens would have someplace to actually be, I gave up, called someone who could actually see to come fix it. Had I been able to make out what my father was actually doing to them, I might have complained.


He did get them fixed before my appointment, so that was good. What was bad is that he used superglue to do it. There is now a thin sheen of superglue covering the left lens of my glasses. Not enough to be visible to anyone, but more than enough to make seeing through it nigh-impossible. So I'm half blind until further notice, and reading anything one-eyed is giving me a headache. So. Not fun.

Willis Haviland Carrier Deserves a Medal

Today's topic: air conditioning. It is a very, very good thing.

Currently, it's 90 degrees out and 'feels like 96,' according to Wunderground.* This is not exactly a normal temperature for June in Wisconsin. Not unexpected, and not completely abnormal, but still. The mid-eighties is the normal max, and therefore the state is unprepared for this heat wave. When it's that hot outside, your body practically doesn't even need to do anything. You can hibernate. You just lie there, preferably not in the sun, and try to keep your body's processes from raising your internal temperature more than six to eight degrees above the air temperature. It is not a temperature for having to actually do anything in, because sheer friction will cause your skin to start combusting  in a relatively short period of time.

So it's just my luck that I have to go work out at the YMCA for roughly two hours three times a week. The local one is having some issues with the heat, and so I show up and discover it is literally hotter in the lobby than it is outside - at least there's air moving outside.** My prognosis: death by heat stroke within an hour.

Even more unfortunately for myself, the cardio room is on the third floor, and heat rises. As I go up, so does the temperature, until I'm becoming seriously worried about both my health and whether the paint on the wall is going to start melting and getting me and my stuff all drippy. By the time I hit the landing at the top floor, it feels like I'm in an oven, and I'm relatively sure that the dust bunnies in the corners of the floor are actually the ashes of other patrons, who've spontaneously combusted. The paint is definitely beginning to look drippy.

And then I open the door to the cardio room, and it's like stepping into an ice bath. I can breath, the rubber soles of my tennis shoes solidify, and I swear I can hear angels singing in the background.*** I then proceed to work out for the allotted two hours without any death by heatstroke or spontaneous combustion at all. And that is why air conditioning is awesome.****




*And according to every living thing outside, except the ones complaining it feels way hotter than that.

**Blowing at 18 mph, no less. Weird, weird weather.

***Turns out it was just Freddie Mercury. Same difference.

****Then I had to leave the air conditioning and walk eight blocks to the library, of course, but the point still stands.

Geekiness and a Hail Story

Issue the Fourth from the last post was fixed with a particularly well-timed swing of a crowbar and some judicious googling. I now have Flash on my computer, and I feel like I've tripled my geek cred. I also now understand several XKCD strips much better.

I get this now!

In other news, Terry Pratchett's newest novel is coming out TOMORROW. *celebrates* I will be getting that ASAP. Because Pratchett is just that awesome. And because the book sounds awesome. Once I finish it, I might even do a review after I uncurl from the inevitable withdrawal from New-Terry-Pratchett-novel that I will go through.




Now, story time. Backstory is thus: I'm keeping an eye on my sisters while my parents are stranded at my mother's place of work due to the massive storm currently going on. One sister, acting with uncommon sense for her, is simply sitting in her room reading. The other.. Well.

We were both staring out the windows at the storm. There was two-inch diameter hail falling outside, hard enough that it was bouncing off the lawn as high as two or three feet upon impact. My baby sister wanted to go outside and play in it, because she loves the rain. I stopped watching the storm and stared at her.

The culverts were flooding. There were birds falling from the sky. There were windows being broken. There was lightning happening in force, and the resulting thunder was rattling the windows the hail wasn't. And her response to my explanations that being hit with hail hurts, was as follows:

"I'll use an umbrella!"

She continues to look at me, her eyes wide and hopeful, as lightning strikes the tree across the street and nearly deafens us with the resulting concussion of sound. I open my mouth, about to say something, but I can't find anything to say.

The storm radio went off, telling us that there was a severe storm warning for our county. I looked at it and said, "No duh." It continued on, saying that if there was hail occurring, everyone should head to the basement.

"So can I?" she asked.

With a crack resembling the thunder, the tree across the street lost a large branch to the wind, which blew it across the street and into our yard, up to the base of the window in front of which we stood - a good three hundred feet.

"No." I said. "Basement."

She pouted. She whinged. She dragged her feet. And, as soon as I had my back turned, she ran out the front door. I turned just in time to see a particularly large piece of hail hit her. There was much drama as I ran outside, grabbed her, hauled her inside and to the basement. Then she started giggling and held out a piece of hail the size of my phone. The chuck  of ice had an... interesting shape.

Which is why I now have a bruised sister and a piece of hail shaped vaguely like female secondary sex characteristics in the freezer, and I have to explain both to my parents once the storm abates.

Pools and Lack of Murder

So today a short story I wrote for La Stranezza's 365th post went up. You can read it here. To anyone who made it here from there: Hello! I admire your taste.

Yesterday, I learned four very important things:

• The SAT is a long test, and when they suggest you bring snacks, it's a very good idea to do so. It's hard to concentrate on the proper way to avoid splitting an infinitive when you're hungry.
• There is nothing - nothing - better than a heated pool, except a heated pool at ten o'clock at night while there's a fireworks display going on down the road and you have a perfect view of said display.
•  There is very little worse than getting out of a heated pool at eleven o'clock at night after the fireworks display, when it's barely fifty degrees out, and discovering that your towel is soaking wet.
• But then there were butterscotch-fudge brownies, so it was all good.
•  Driving home after late-night pool parties sucks, and getting lost is inevitable. And when you call for directions, you will be laughed at.

In any case, yesterday was fun, up until the getting-lost-in-the-maze-of-twisty-little-back-roads-all-alike bit. But as I was not killed by a hook-handed mass-murderer, I'm going to call it a win.

This didn't get me.