It has been about a month and a half since I last gave you pitiful people a precious update on what's happening in my life.
-Well, I have a lot of stuff I have to tell you then, don't I? Let's start off with band camp. Band camp was not as good as most years, and that's not something you just casually say. We have a really young and unruly band this year. There are no seniors in the pit or sousaphone section, and probably another one that Matt will note once I post this. In fact all the sousaphones are sophomore or below, I believe. This young band is not disposed to taking direction from some high-and-mighty baldo who thinks he should be able to tell them what to do just because he's taken several years of college courses on how to do so. I think most of the problem is with a lack of focus. Whenever there's a pause, the band exploits it to recount the latest stupid anecdote that has popped into their brain, or comment on how poorly they just did something, or whatever. And then Mr Canter has to get angry and tell them to stop talking. It happens every five or ten minutes: a waste of time. Or, the band doesn't really want to do anything, despite that it's the middle of a practice, so they just sort of walk around carelessly, don't march, and don't really try anything. This has strayed a bit from the topic of band camp, but it's still all to do with the last month and a half, and now I'm finished writing about band and it won't pop up again.
-Next let's move on to a bit more pleasant a subject: Crowduck. Actually, it's worth mentioning that on the way to Crowduck in Grandma & Grandpa's van, we put in a few prescheduled visits to colleges. First there was Grinnell. I was actually quite taken with Grinnell, which was a surprise because it's in the middle of Iowa with immediate access to a broad variety of exciting cornfields. I don't think I would too much mind being carted off there for a while. However, it lacks something that our next entry, Carleton, has: lakes and trees. People think I want to live in Minnesota just because it's snowy there, and at first this was true, but I've since come to realize that a great amount of what I want is also a place to forget about the century. I can't manage that in a cornfield, but if I get a kayak (something I intend to do someday, and which I would have done sooner, probably, if there were anything appreciable in Ohio to row in) and sit on the water, or I hike a few miles into the old growth trees and lie down, it's all but inevitable. I liked Carleton quite a bit too; however, it wasn't a surprise for me that I should, so until I realized that it seemed a bit muted. I was a little disappointed in the size of their lakes, Upper and Lower Lyman Lakes, which are more like ponds. If I remember accurately, I could probably have (with enough patience) skipped a stone across them. Or at least halfway, to the little island that's in the middle of one of the two. Maybe? In any case, the campus was very great and all that. We also visited Macalester, but I didn't much like that one. It seemed impersonal, unimaginative, and too urban. Though there is a good café called Blondie's nearby.
-For the first time we can remember, it rained while we were at the pickup point on Big Whiteshell, but what the heck? We soon found out that it hadn't rained all month and had been the driest July on record (following, incidentally, the wettest on record last year). But I've been requested to cover Crowduck like I did last year and I think I had better do it in a separate post, and also when I can formulate thoughts better, sometime like not 0200.
-School started up. I'm in five APs: psych, bio, English, Spanish, and math. So far they seem to be living up to the difficult reputation of APs. For English there was summer reading - Heart of Darkness and EITHER Pride and Prejudice OR Beloved. (I picked P&P.) As it turned out I needn't've stressed out about doing it, because though we were going to turn in reading logs on the first day, there were apparently some complaints that she assigned it too late for us to read it all. What kind of moron excuse is that? She gave us - hold on, let me check the date - rather more than a month of warning to get those read. Don't come in telling us that you were constantly engaged in cross-country running or soccer for more than a month. You can find a way to put aside six or seven hours to read some books. Try turning off your TV. The pretense is rife with dumbassedness. Well, as a result the test has been postponed all the way to Tuesday, when we could have been preparing for the AP test.
-This Monday (Labor Day) we've got a krokay game going on. The participants are Aaron, Keith, Rosie, me, and a German exchange girl of Chinese descent named Xinglai. Today I rode up to Winton Woods to look for a spare location, and though I was unable to find good ones, I may be close. The parcours trail seems like it should be near something. Also that trail above Kingfisher. For Monday, though, we'll just be going with the same tried and true spot. Hm. Or maybe Warder. Nope. I would have to go and visualize a layout first, and I didn't do that today. But next time, we will go to Warder. Anyhow, the old site will be new for all the participants except me and Aaron anyhow. I've been there twice, Aaron once. I went with BJ and Henry after a many-player game that I think was going to be Matt, BJ, Aaron, and me fell through and we had to go to a different day. Henry won twice. Strangely enough, I who spearheaded the krokay movement have yet to win a game.
-Tomorrow I'm going to the library to pick up a broad variety of books, and I'm also going to be the Designated Driver for when we go to see the WEBN fireworks. Wait, but is Mom going to be there? She would be the natural choice for DD. Whatever.
-I have to do several more things tonight, which I hope I can remember long enough to carry them through. First is e-mailing all Monday's participants. So here I go
Sunday, September 3, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
That was brief
It was eight days after I started working at Subway: that is, about two weeks ago, but I've been putting off writing about it, for no particular reason.
-That day I showed up at about 1000, I suppose. Sarah had me take some bread out of the interesting item that is called the "retarder" and put it in the proofer, which is where the bread rises for a while. I also chopped some tomatoes and made some sandwiches. Pretty uneventful. At about 1130 I suppose, Sarah looked in the proofer and told me with some disdain, "Common sense says you should season some of these, not just make all white and wheat." Seasoning is where you roll the bread in some stuff to make it a different type of bread, like for example Parmesan Oregano. She hadn't told me to season any bread, much less how many of each kind to season. But I apologized anyhow and she made an interesting gesture that was a combination of a shrug and "don't mention it". I clocked out at 1200, because it was going to be a slow day and she said I might as well go home. And then she said, "[Chuck], it's not going to work out."
-I was too jolted to say anything relevant. I just said, "What?"
-She said, "You're not getting it, I don't see you getting it..." and trailed off.
-I said, "So, do you--want me to come back tomorrow?" She shook her head no. She said I could bring my two Subway shirts and my apron and hat up to the store some other time and also pick up my paycheck. I did her one better and left her everything right then except for one shirt I had at home. I left her with the enigmatic and underconstructed thought, "I thought I had something there."
-So as quickly as I got into it, I'm back out of the working world. The next day I brought back my remaining shirt, but my paycheck hadn't come. Last Friday I went back and picked up the check, but it turned out to be the check for the week where I worked one day: $28.53. I went back today, and Sarah said the other check still hadn't come.
-In the week that I worked I was also reading The Trial, which I find sort of appropriate. Perhaps my fate wasn't quite as grim as Josef K.'s, but the process was similar (if not as lengthy). I was expected to catch on to the subtleties and unmentioned aspects of the operation far too quickly and with nobody really telling me. Sarah was always telling me things I needed to do that she had never told me to do but which I could see she thought it was obvious I should do. I was finally kind of starting to catch on, but then I got fired. I hadn't thought of that interesting parallel between the book I was reading and real life until just now.
-On Grandpa's suggestion, I also read The Templar Legacy, and afterward I started the process of reviewing books in my journal after I'm done with them, kind of on a whim. I'll paraphrase, because it was long, but my sentiments regarding The Templar Legacy were approximately this: it used as a climax what should have been an inciting incident; the first 400 pages could have been summed up in a fifteen-page prologue, but instead they just dragged on and on with no purpose but to make the book longer. The plot stuck around in one place too long, getting bogged down, and at the end of the "scavenger hunt" plot the payoff, rather than redeeming the rest of the book, is a weak attempt to be controversial, and also for author Steve Berry to profess his own religious view by deliberately attacking a different one. Bottom line: subdued "action" masquerading as something other than a waste of time. Also rife with typos.
-Currently I've got some other summer reading to do. I picked up a couple books at Borders the other day, and also found out that for AP English the required summer reading is Heart of Darkness and either Pride and Prejudice or Beloved.
-Band has also started up. Unless you are in band, you probably become very bored reading about band, and come to think of it even if you are in band, the case is probably the same. I'll be pithy. Leaders went in for two days of training from 1730 to 2100; then we taught some eight- and ninth-graders how to come to attention, do faces, march, turn, do flanks, &c. I don't know any of their names except one called Sally, one called Nicole, and one called Ricardo (who incidentally is our first male flute). Sally doesn't like me, but I also get the feeling that she doesn't really like anyone, and she always doesn't like them in a very peppy and cheerful way. Today we meet at 1730 again, and tomorrow we have the innovative Bonding Night, which is where we are ordered to have fun with the rest of our section. I assume we'll go out to eat.
-Also, yesterday Micah and Mom and I went to Grandma & Grandpa's, had Chinese food, and then drove to Uncle Dan's to pick beans out of his really big garden. We picked zucchinis and cucmbers and Swiss chard and onions as well.
-That day I showed up at about 1000, I suppose. Sarah had me take some bread out of the interesting item that is called the "retarder" and put it in the proofer, which is where the bread rises for a while. I also chopped some tomatoes and made some sandwiches. Pretty uneventful. At about 1130 I suppose, Sarah looked in the proofer and told me with some disdain, "Common sense says you should season some of these, not just make all white and wheat." Seasoning is where you roll the bread in some stuff to make it a different type of bread, like for example Parmesan Oregano. She hadn't told me to season any bread, much less how many of each kind to season. But I apologized anyhow and she made an interesting gesture that was a combination of a shrug and "don't mention it". I clocked out at 1200, because it was going to be a slow day and she said I might as well go home. And then she said, "[Chuck], it's not going to work out."
-I was too jolted to say anything relevant. I just said, "What?"
-She said, "You're not getting it, I don't see you getting it..." and trailed off.
-I said, "So, do you--want me to come back tomorrow?" She shook her head no. She said I could bring my two Subway shirts and my apron and hat up to the store some other time and also pick up my paycheck. I did her one better and left her everything right then except for one shirt I had at home. I left her with the enigmatic and underconstructed thought, "I thought I had something there."
-So as quickly as I got into it, I'm back out of the working world. The next day I brought back my remaining shirt, but my paycheck hadn't come. Last Friday I went back and picked up the check, but it turned out to be the check for the week where I worked one day: $28.53. I went back today, and Sarah said the other check still hadn't come.
-In the week that I worked I was also reading The Trial, which I find sort of appropriate. Perhaps my fate wasn't quite as grim as Josef K.'s, but the process was similar (if not as lengthy). I was expected to catch on to the subtleties and unmentioned aspects of the operation far too quickly and with nobody really telling me. Sarah was always telling me things I needed to do that she had never told me to do but which I could see she thought it was obvious I should do. I was finally kind of starting to catch on, but then I got fired. I hadn't thought of that interesting parallel between the book I was reading and real life until just now.
-On Grandpa's suggestion, I also read The Templar Legacy, and afterward I started the process of reviewing books in my journal after I'm done with them, kind of on a whim. I'll paraphrase, because it was long, but my sentiments regarding The Templar Legacy were approximately this: it used as a climax what should have been an inciting incident; the first 400 pages could have been summed up in a fifteen-page prologue, but instead they just dragged on and on with no purpose but to make the book longer. The plot stuck around in one place too long, getting bogged down, and at the end of the "scavenger hunt" plot the payoff, rather than redeeming the rest of the book, is a weak attempt to be controversial, and also for author Steve Berry to profess his own religious view by deliberately attacking a different one. Bottom line: subdued "action" masquerading as something other than a waste of time. Also rife with typos.
-Currently I've got some other summer reading to do. I picked up a couple books at Borders the other day, and also found out that for AP English the required summer reading is Heart of Darkness and either Pride and Prejudice or Beloved.
-Band has also started up. Unless you are in band, you probably become very bored reading about band, and come to think of it even if you are in band, the case is probably the same. I'll be pithy. Leaders went in for two days of training from 1730 to 2100; then we taught some eight- and ninth-graders how to come to attention, do faces, march, turn, do flanks, &c. I don't know any of their names except one called Sally, one called Nicole, and one called Ricardo (who incidentally is our first male flute). Sally doesn't like me, but I also get the feeling that she doesn't really like anyone, and she always doesn't like them in a very peppy and cheerful way. Today we meet at 1730 again, and tomorrow we have the innovative Bonding Night, which is where we are ordered to have fun with the rest of our section. I assume we'll go out to eat.
-Also, yesterday Micah and Mom and I went to Grandma & Grandpa's, had Chinese food, and then drove to Uncle Dan's to pick beans out of his really big garden. We picked zucchinis and cucmbers and Swiss chard and onions as well.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Never would have expected
You're not used to getting two posts in a row, so I will note that there's another one underneath this one, in which I acquire gainful employment.
-It surprises me how much work work is. Today I got up at 0800 and biked up to Subway at 0855 or so. I guess that clock was off from my watch, which showed when I got there that I was five minutes ahead of time. Initiative! Behh. Sarah let me in at 0858. She took me into the back room and showed me various things: first, how to clock in. Then, she gave me a sort of grand tour, and showed me how to do the bread: coat it with seasonings, and score it, and put it in the proofer (where it expands), and then bake it (which I didn't do yet because I was doing something else by then). And she showed me cookies. They come frozen in big bags and they're only vaguely round. But I stuck those on a pan and stuck the pan in the oven. Later, two other employees came in: Jake and Mike. She says Mike is the only guy who's been there since she started, which was six months ago. He's kind of lean, whereas Jake is of a wider persuasion. I learned how to slice tomatoes (core them, and then use this super-nifty slicing gizmo called imaginatively the "slicer") and then I assembled some of those Tuscan Chicken traylet kind of things. (There's not a lot of stress on terminology.) Then I made some sandwiches for some people, under Jake's guidance. Now I know that a Club has two turkey, two roast beef, and one ham. Or is that a Cold Cut Trio? All will become clear. Hopefully. It went pretty well, except this one part where I was helping this black lady with a shirt that said "I.D. Please / It's the Law", and I had just left to Jake this lady with a small daughter, but Jake went into the back room for some reason and I went blank. The I.D. lady asked a question and I didn't know the answer and I was looking back and forth between the two of them, and she said, "Well you asked me could you help me," and I told her sorry, it's my first day, and then Jake came back and all was well again. As I was clocking off Sarah talked about that for a moment, more to confirm a point she had made earlier - that 99.9% of the rude customers were for some reason black people, not to be racist or anything - than to tell me off. I clocked out and took my bike out the back door at 1233 and went home wearing my two green Subway shirts and carrying in my pocket my hat and an apron she gave me that isn't really an apron. I can't tell what it is. It kind of works as an apron. I didn't wear it today, because I never put it on and nobody noticed (including me). I worked 3.47 hours (not 3h 47m, but 3.47 hours; the clock calculates it like that) and made $21.6875, which I'm not sure if they round or truncate. I think she said paychecks come every other week, but Subway weeks start on Wednesday and end on Tuesday, so I might get a check for just this week, which would include just today, and would be kind of weird.
-Throughout this week I work hours that are kind of thrown around as if on a dartboard, including another open and two closes and one that's neither. I work 'til 2200 on July 4th, so no fireworks, but what's a fireworks show anyways? Stuff blowing up? Well, okay, it's cool, but I just watched a fireworks show a couple weeks ago for the St Vivian's festival. Whatever.
-By the way, a thing I forgot to mention last time: I've been working on another font, called Salamander, but I'm going to have to find another name because that one's in fact already taken.
-It surprises me how much work work is. Today I got up at 0800 and biked up to Subway at 0855 or so. I guess that clock was off from my watch, which showed when I got there that I was five minutes ahead of time. Initiative! Behh. Sarah let me in at 0858. She took me into the back room and showed me various things: first, how to clock in. Then, she gave me a sort of grand tour, and showed me how to do the bread: coat it with seasonings, and score it, and put it in the proofer (where it expands), and then bake it (which I didn't do yet because I was doing something else by then). And she showed me cookies. They come frozen in big bags and they're only vaguely round. But I stuck those on a pan and stuck the pan in the oven. Later, two other employees came in: Jake and Mike. She says Mike is the only guy who's been there since she started, which was six months ago. He's kind of lean, whereas Jake is of a wider persuasion. I learned how to slice tomatoes (core them, and then use this super-nifty slicing gizmo called imaginatively the "slicer") and then I assembled some of those Tuscan Chicken traylet kind of things. (There's not a lot of stress on terminology.) Then I made some sandwiches for some people, under Jake's guidance. Now I know that a Club has two turkey, two roast beef, and one ham. Or is that a Cold Cut Trio? All will become clear. Hopefully. It went pretty well, except this one part where I was helping this black lady with a shirt that said "I.D. Please / It's the Law", and I had just left to Jake this lady with a small daughter, but Jake went into the back room for some reason and I went blank. The I.D. lady asked a question and I didn't know the answer and I was looking back and forth between the two of them, and she said, "Well you asked me could you help me," and I told her sorry, it's my first day, and then Jake came back and all was well again. As I was clocking off Sarah talked about that for a moment, more to confirm a point she had made earlier - that 99.9% of the rude customers were for some reason black people, not to be racist or anything - than to tell me off. I clocked out and took my bike out the back door at 1233 and went home wearing my two green Subway shirts and carrying in my pocket my hat and an apron she gave me that isn't really an apron. I can't tell what it is. It kind of works as an apron. I didn't wear it today, because I never put it on and nobody noticed (including me). I worked 3.47 hours (not 3h 47m, but 3.47 hours; the clock calculates it like that) and made $21.6875, which I'm not sure if they round or truncate. I think she said paychecks come every other week, but Subway weeks start on Wednesday and end on Tuesday, so I might get a check for just this week, which would include just today, and would be kind of weird.
-Throughout this week I work hours that are kind of thrown around as if on a dartboard, including another open and two closes and one that's neither. I work 'til 2200 on July 4th, so no fireworks, but what's a fireworks show anyways? Stuff blowing up? Well, okay, it's cool, but I just watched a fireworks show a couple weeks ago for the St Vivian's festival. Whatever.
-By the way, a thing I forgot to mention last time: I've been working on another font, called Salamander, but I'm going to have to find another name because that one's in fact already taken.
Monday, June 26, 2006
change of pace
School ended. I was exempt from all but my photography exam, as I may have noted; I got an A on that. (I found all this out later when I got my report card in the mail, which revealed that I have all semester A's, except in AP US history, where they're both B's. So that's good.) On June 3rd, I took the SAT at a place known as "Harmony Community School". This time, rather than finishing mid-sentence, I nailed the essay, writing as fast as I could to get all the words I wanted to write (I later read that longer essays get more points, on average). In fact, I had been considering what kind of questions they might use for the essay. They would need something suitably vague, but also very broad, so anyone could answer it. Last time it was whether people should change their ideas. This time I thought a good vague one might be technology; while sitting in the waiting room just before the test I thought what I might use to write an essay about technology. And I got in and the essay was about whether a strong focus on technology caused a culture to neglect standard of living. Ha! I am psychic.
-And on June 10th I took the ACT too. It was different. I don't know, I think I liked the SAT better. The essay on that was an out-of-nowhere one about whether fast food restaurants should be required to serve healthy foods. Nonetheless, I think I did quite well on that too.
-I've been having a fun time out of school. Occasionally people will ask me, "Happy to be out of school?" Now honestly, what kind of question is that? "No, I'd much rather be getting up at 0630 every single morning and immediately biking a mile and a half to a gulag to sit on hard chairs for seven or eight hours." I've been reading books. Mostly I've read Tom Brown's Field Guide to Nature Observation and Tracking. The thing is, it's not just a book; it requires a commitment, and every time I want to do something to improve my skills per the book, I have that annoying collegiate itch that tells me I need to do college stuff instead. So in fact I have been doing college stuff. I figured out and wrote down the other day what I want from a college. Only thing is, it's not quantifiable, and it's highly subjective. I need help with the process, so I will solicit some from BJ, sometime when he's on AIM. BJ, I'm shamelessly requiring you to give me help.
-In other college news, I'm going to go visit Grinnell, Carleton, and possibly Macalester on my way to Crowduck this year. Aunt Irene's coming too, and she's a Grinnell alumna, so that will be good. That's going to be around July 30 or 31. Grinnell is on August 1, and the Minnesotan one or two are on August 2. We spend all day on the road on the 3rd to get to Kenora, and we sleep there and go to Crowduck on the 4th. We're going late this year because Uncle Dave (who's been having a rough year and deserves to go) couldn't go the first week of July like it usually is. If it were the first week of July, we would be about to go: I just thought of that. I could be packing my clothes right now. Tomorrow I would go up to Grandma and Grandpa's house and get in the van and they would drive me to Iowa. On the way they would treat me to great restaurants, because they're Grandma and Grandpa. We'd pick up Aunt Irene at some point, and visit the colleges, and then move on up to Kenora, past all the dark blue Minnesota lakes and evergreen forest. I wonder if the Whispering Pines motel is open, or if they're permanently closed? Last year they were closed. I like that motel. It has an ice cream parlor built in. We'd take a refreshing trip to the Safeway and get all our groceries and then drive to the drop-off point and then load all our stuff in the boats and cross Whiteshell and take the Limo on up to the camp and we'd be in Crowduck. This year, Bill's going to have the rest of the cabins remodeled - last year 5 and 6 were still waiting on it. Ah, and I've gotten a comment from someone else who goes to Crowduck! It hadn't occurred to me, actually, to meet other people who go to Crowduck. When we're there, the rest of the people there are generally old guys on a Fishing Trip with the Guys, and we normally don't really socialize with the people in the other cabins, I suppose because they look like they've got enough socializing amongst themselves, and because we've also got quite enough to get on with with our own large family. Plus we're fishing a lot of the time. I did search for Crowduck one time, but I just got this guy Sam Minter (who calls himself Abulsme Noibatno Itramne - obviously an anagram of "Samuel 'Abobanation' Minter"), and he didn't go to the camp, just somewhere near the lake. I'm intrigued. Where do you live? How much stuff do you take? Because we always take way too much. What week are you going this year? This is interesting!
-A couple of other large items have happened. One is that while Grandma and Grandpa were away in Greece, their basement flooded with two feet of water, and wasn't discovered for a week (after which time it had drained and left mold on all the walls). Dad and Dan and Dave and I all helped them clear out all the soaked and irretrievable stuff. Then we came back the following Tuesday and totally tore down the basement - took it to bare concrete. I was given the job of garbage hauler; I picked up big armloads of drywall, or bins of drywall that was too flimsy to hold shape, or big boards, or really old National Geographics, and dumped it in a big rollout dumpster in the front yard. Fun fact: after being aged several decades and then soaked, National Geographics give off a potent smell similar to that of a pile of fish that have been rotting for two weeks. Anyhow, I worked and worked and worked, and I did get paid, which was good. And we had a good dinner.
-And the other thing is that just today, I biked up to Subway for an interview. The interview went like this:
-"I'm Sarah. Your name is?"
-"[Chuck]."
-"All right, [Chuck], I'm going to hire you."
-[Note to those new to my blog: Chuck Masterson is my pseudonym, which I use for my blog for no discernible reason.] She then gave me a big old packet full of written standards of how to work, and told me to come back at 0900 tomorrow with it filled out. The packet is of varying degrees of coherence; toward the lower end of the spectrum, you have things like this: "After the meats you will then add to the bottom of the bread a generous portion of our topping's in which are routinely placed on each six-inch or footlong sandwich, unless requested otherwise by the customer." However, I could make out almost all of it. I have a job! And about time, too! I plan to keep this job, too. However, I do still need to confide to Sarah about the three straight week's in which are I'll be gone (due to band camp and then college visits plus Crowduck). I hope she understands, too. She hasn't, technically, hired me yet, I don't think: just given me a fat packet of stuff. Nevertheless, Mom's taking me clothes shopping tonight so I can get some black or kakhi [sic] pants with no pockets down the side or shorts made of cotton or polyester or cotton/polyester blend that are neatly tailored, which is what I need according to the book. In the meantime, I'm hungry.
-By the way, what's up with the Brothers Chaps not putting up a new cartoon of any sort for over a month at homestarrunner.com?
-And on June 10th I took the ACT too. It was different. I don't know, I think I liked the SAT better. The essay on that was an out-of-nowhere one about whether fast food restaurants should be required to serve healthy foods. Nonetheless, I think I did quite well on that too.
-I've been having a fun time out of school. Occasionally people will ask me, "Happy to be out of school?" Now honestly, what kind of question is that? "No, I'd much rather be getting up at 0630 every single morning and immediately biking a mile and a half to a gulag to sit on hard chairs for seven or eight hours." I've been reading books. Mostly I've read Tom Brown's Field Guide to Nature Observation and Tracking. The thing is, it's not just a book; it requires a commitment, and every time I want to do something to improve my skills per the book, I have that annoying collegiate itch that tells me I need to do college stuff instead. So in fact I have been doing college stuff. I figured out and wrote down the other day what I want from a college. Only thing is, it's not quantifiable, and it's highly subjective. I need help with the process, so I will solicit some from BJ, sometime when he's on AIM. BJ, I'm shamelessly requiring you to give me help.
-In other college news, I'm going to go visit Grinnell, Carleton, and possibly Macalester on my way to Crowduck this year. Aunt Irene's coming too, and she's a Grinnell alumna, so that will be good. That's going to be around July 30 or 31. Grinnell is on August 1, and the Minnesotan one or two are on August 2. We spend all day on the road on the 3rd to get to Kenora, and we sleep there and go to Crowduck on the 4th. We're going late this year because Uncle Dave (who's been having a rough year and deserves to go) couldn't go the first week of July like it usually is. If it were the first week of July, we would be about to go: I just thought of that. I could be packing my clothes right now. Tomorrow I would go up to Grandma and Grandpa's house and get in the van and they would drive me to Iowa. On the way they would treat me to great restaurants, because they're Grandma and Grandpa. We'd pick up Aunt Irene at some point, and visit the colleges, and then move on up to Kenora, past all the dark blue Minnesota lakes and evergreen forest. I wonder if the Whispering Pines motel is open, or if they're permanently closed? Last year they were closed. I like that motel. It has an ice cream parlor built in. We'd take a refreshing trip to the Safeway and get all our groceries and then drive to the drop-off point and then load all our stuff in the boats and cross Whiteshell and take the Limo on up to the camp and we'd be in Crowduck. This year, Bill's going to have the rest of the cabins remodeled - last year 5 and 6 were still waiting on it. Ah, and I've gotten a comment from someone else who goes to Crowduck! It hadn't occurred to me, actually, to meet other people who go to Crowduck. When we're there, the rest of the people there are generally old guys on a Fishing Trip with the Guys, and we normally don't really socialize with the people in the other cabins, I suppose because they look like they've got enough socializing amongst themselves, and because we've also got quite enough to get on with with our own large family. Plus we're fishing a lot of the time. I did search for Crowduck one time, but I just got this guy Sam Minter (who calls himself Abulsme Noibatno Itramne - obviously an anagram of "Samuel 'Abobanation' Minter"), and he didn't go to the camp, just somewhere near the lake. I'm intrigued. Where do you live? How much stuff do you take? Because we always take way too much. What week are you going this year? This is interesting!
-A couple of other large items have happened. One is that while Grandma and Grandpa were away in Greece, their basement flooded with two feet of water, and wasn't discovered for a week (after which time it had drained and left mold on all the walls). Dad and Dan and Dave and I all helped them clear out all the soaked and irretrievable stuff. Then we came back the following Tuesday and totally tore down the basement - took it to bare concrete. I was given the job of garbage hauler; I picked up big armloads of drywall, or bins of drywall that was too flimsy to hold shape, or big boards, or really old National Geographics, and dumped it in a big rollout dumpster in the front yard. Fun fact: after being aged several decades and then soaked, National Geographics give off a potent smell similar to that of a pile of fish that have been rotting for two weeks. Anyhow, I worked and worked and worked, and I did get paid, which was good. And we had a good dinner.
-And the other thing is that just today, I biked up to Subway for an interview. The interview went like this:
-"I'm Sarah. Your name is?"
-"[Chuck]."
-"All right, [Chuck], I'm going to hire you."
-[Note to those new to my blog: Chuck Masterson is my pseudonym, which I use for my blog for no discernible reason.] She then gave me a big old packet full of written standards of how to work, and told me to come back at 0900 tomorrow with it filled out. The packet is of varying degrees of coherence; toward the lower end of the spectrum, you have things like this: "After the meats you will then add to the bottom of the bread a generous portion of our topping's in which are routinely placed on each six-inch or footlong sandwich, unless requested otherwise by the customer." However, I could make out almost all of it. I have a job! And about time, too! I plan to keep this job, too. However, I do still need to confide to Sarah about the three straight week's in which are I'll be gone (due to band camp and then college visits plus Crowduck). I hope she understands, too. She hasn't, technically, hired me yet, I don't think: just given me a fat packet of stuff. Nevertheless, Mom's taking me clothes shopping tonight so I can get some black or kakhi [sic] pants with no pockets down the side or shorts made of cotton or polyester or cotton/polyester blend that are neatly tailored, which is what I need according to the book. In the meantime, I'm hungry.
-By the way, what's up with the Brothers Chaps not putting up a new cartoon of any sort for over a month at homestarrunner.com?
Friday, May 26, 2006
Tomorrow
Yes, it's not really tomorrow, is it? I said I would write the rest of it tomorrow, but it's been done gone a week. And it's about to be do go another one. I found out that I am indeed exempt from all my exams except for photography. Photography is because Mr Hubbard is ridiculous. He expects that you're already an expert at what he's just taught you, and he expects that you can work with the speed of lightning. He vaguely explains five assignments and says they're due whenever, but there's not enough time to do them because when we're starting to make a dent there are all of a sudden three or four more projects. On top of that, there's the special "Secret Project", which is top secret until information of it leaks out somehow and we all have to up the pace even more to get all this crap done by the end of the school year. I think I got it all finished, but really I can't be sure. I got a B third quarter (it's a semester class), so I don't have any hope for exemption. I heard the exam is another project, and it takes about fifteen minutes, and the rest of the time you just sit around. I'll bring a good book.
-In two short hours I'm leaving to go to the band room. The current time is 0047. We're assembling for the trip to Washington, DC to march in the National Memorial Day Parade on Monday. Ah, what fun! Ah, what good times! Why in the hell did I ever sign up for this trip? I'm going to be in a cramped bus with probably a minimalist approach to air conditioning, and I'll be unable to stand up for upwards of nine hours at a time. On Monday at about noon we all get to march for what according to Mr Canter is a mile, but according to Matt (who has Google Earth) 1.3 miles. If you've never marched in a parade before, I don't know if I can describe the pain that comes with roll-stepping unceasingly on hard pavement. It comes in your calf muscles, like hot irons left to glow red inside your leg. Then it spreads, into your shins. Then you're walking through a thousand-degree fire for the rest of the parade, everything below your knees left to smolder. I believe I've mentioned how much I hate it when it's hot outside, and down in the South it's supposed to be a high of 84°. Temperatures are measured with the thermometer in the shade. We will be in the hot sun in the middle of a street with long-sleeve thick-cloth uniforms and Triple-Itch™ Brand long black pants.
-It's summer now. We had a nice delay with that two-week rainstorm system, but it's summer now. When it's cold outside you can layer yourself against it. When it's hot there are no air-conditioned clothes. If you're outside there's no escape. I put on the least I can find--shorts, T-shirt--but I still get hot and sweaty and my clothes stick to me and I'm miserable. I need to get out of here. Yes, it's true: St Paul has a forecast high of 91°. But that's not usual. The next day, the high is a lot lower, and then there's a lightning storm predicted. Moreover, Minnesota has lakes. In Finneytown there are only swimming pools. I don't much care for swimming pools. They are full of chlorine and the urine of little kids and they are small and rectangular and they have absurd sets of regimented rules and nothing to offer once you get in except a chance to submerge yourself. The submersion is the only benefit. A few days ago I took a drysuit class in the indoor pool at the Y, and while I was drifting around underneath the surface in the process of increasing the indeliblity of the acrid chlorine smell I realized what swimming in a pool is like: it's like being able to fly, but only while confined in a small, featureless room.
-But I have to take what I can get. And, this year Crowduck isn't until August. Plus, I have to do all this college crap this summer. The time span between now and next December is shrinking at an extremely worrying speed. I don't know how anyone manages to pick out one single college before the deadline. I'm going to have to concentrate and take it one step at a time. Meanwhile I won't be able to enjoy the summer with no responsibilities like I like to do. No matter what I'm doing, I'll always have that nagging voice at the back of my head: "You should be working on college stuff." And what's more is the voice will always be correct, until I narrow the field down to ten candidates. It seems impossible. How do I eliminate 2990 colleges across the entire country NAY the entire country PLUS Canada (I'm looking into the Canuck factor)? What could be the possible problem with all of them? That they're in the South? That's one. But beyond that, how am I qualified to make a decision on their credentials when here I am, some dumb junior-going-on-senior, knowing so little about this higher education stuff? But I have no choice. I have to do it.
-Well, with that, I'm going to go take care of a few things before we leave to the band room.
-In two short hours I'm leaving to go to the band room. The current time is 0047. We're assembling for the trip to Washington, DC to march in the National Memorial Day Parade on Monday. Ah, what fun! Ah, what good times! Why in the hell did I ever sign up for this trip? I'm going to be in a cramped bus with probably a minimalist approach to air conditioning, and I'll be unable to stand up for upwards of nine hours at a time. On Monday at about noon we all get to march for what according to Mr Canter is a mile, but according to Matt (who has Google Earth) 1.3 miles. If you've never marched in a parade before, I don't know if I can describe the pain that comes with roll-stepping unceasingly on hard pavement. It comes in your calf muscles, like hot irons left to glow red inside your leg. Then it spreads, into your shins. Then you're walking through a thousand-degree fire for the rest of the parade, everything below your knees left to smolder. I believe I've mentioned how much I hate it when it's hot outside, and down in the South it's supposed to be a high of 84°. Temperatures are measured with the thermometer in the shade. We will be in the hot sun in the middle of a street with long-sleeve thick-cloth uniforms and Triple-Itch™ Brand long black pants.
-It's summer now. We had a nice delay with that two-week rainstorm system, but it's summer now. When it's cold outside you can layer yourself against it. When it's hot there are no air-conditioned clothes. If you're outside there's no escape. I put on the least I can find--shorts, T-shirt--but I still get hot and sweaty and my clothes stick to me and I'm miserable. I need to get out of here. Yes, it's true: St Paul has a forecast high of 91°. But that's not usual. The next day, the high is a lot lower, and then there's a lightning storm predicted. Moreover, Minnesota has lakes. In Finneytown there are only swimming pools. I don't much care for swimming pools. They are full of chlorine and the urine of little kids and they are small and rectangular and they have absurd sets of regimented rules and nothing to offer once you get in except a chance to submerge yourself. The submersion is the only benefit. A few days ago I took a drysuit class in the indoor pool at the Y, and while I was drifting around underneath the surface in the process of increasing the indeliblity of the acrid chlorine smell I realized what swimming in a pool is like: it's like being able to fly, but only while confined in a small, featureless room.
-But I have to take what I can get. And, this year Crowduck isn't until August. Plus, I have to do all this college crap this summer. The time span between now and next December is shrinking at an extremely worrying speed. I don't know how anyone manages to pick out one single college before the deadline. I'm going to have to concentrate and take it one step at a time. Meanwhile I won't be able to enjoy the summer with no responsibilities like I like to do. No matter what I'm doing, I'll always have that nagging voice at the back of my head: "You should be working on college stuff." And what's more is the voice will always be correct, until I narrow the field down to ten candidates. It seems impossible. How do I eliminate 2990 colleges across the entire country NAY the entire country PLUS Canada (I'm looking into the Canuck factor)? What could be the possible problem with all of them? That they're in the South? That's one. But beyond that, how am I qualified to make a decision on their credentials when here I am, some dumb junior-going-on-senior, knowing so little about this higher education stuff? But I have no choice. I have to do it.
-Well, with that, I'm going to go take care of a few things before we leave to the band room.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Month and some
What is there to say when someone dies? Everyone stops their life because someone else's life stopped. Very often, this is good. It helps to step back from where you've been and think about it: to pull off the road and look back from where you and everyone else came. On April 4th, a sophomore named Chevis Jackson was at home in the Galbraith Pointe family of condominiums, and some guys came over and got in a fight with him and shot him. He died. I found out about it the next day in school. That day, we were silent. In first bell nobody did anything: we all sat and stared at the wall, or at our desks. I knew Chevis from photography, which was second bell. He was the guy who always turned his iPod up way too loud and sang with it even louder. That day in second bell, people were crying, and some of them were guys. Some people were hugging each other and people were just losing it. Throughout the rest of the day we learned to talk again, but it was a day with a shadow over it.
I am glad that I'm going to be going to college someplace far away from Finneytown. Earlier this year, another student from my school, Derwin Murphy, was walking home from Kroger when (I think this is correct) he got mugged and shot in the leg. He survived, but it's clear that we're not living in a safe place when two students from my school have gotten shot within one year. And it doesn't speak very favorably to society in general. What kind of species are we that we kill our own when they've done nothing to merit it and can do nothing to defend themselves? Animals kill to stay alive, or (in pack systems) to avenge treachery. Humans kill for fun or out of rage. Sometimes I don't feel very proud to be a human.
Recently AP tests were the story of the day, every day, for several weeks. I only had AP history, so I got off fairly light, but next year I have five nationally-administered AP exams. History is a very hard one. It's not solid fact that you can arrive at by logic, like calculus, but there again it's not a field composed of opinions like psychology is, so you can't just BS your way through the test. We had four after-school study sessions, and I went to the last two, because (1) I needed to study and (2) there was pizza. The test was on May 5th, in the library. It was hard. There are 80 multiple choice questions, and Mr Volz has advocated leaving about ten of them blank, because the test is created so that no one can get all the answers. The knowledge is just too obscure. The good news is that under Mr Volz's excellent coaching, Finneytown is well above the national average for how many pass the test; the average is about half, though I don't recall our figure. I think I did quite well on it. I don't know if hoping for a 5 (highest) is too ambitious, but a 4 is well within expectations.
-Hm, let me browse my journal to see what else has happened recently.
-Oh yes: the band went to State contest. Of note is that just like the Marching Band State Contest, this was in Columbus, so we had an invigorating two-and-a-half hour drive in buses that produced an incessant 80 or 90 decibels, without even counting the 40 or 50 kids jammed on each one and contributing an extra 20 or so to the average. I hate buses. I also hate staying in large crowds or crowded places for a long time. Whenever I do, the words of Agent Smith come back to me:
"I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can't stand it any longer. It's the smell, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it. I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I've somehow been infected by it."
We got in the building, which was the colossal Gahanna Lincoln High School. I'm going to be frankly honest here: we weren't ready to be at State competition. But we got into some sort of groove, or at least kind of felt like we did, when we were in the warm-up hall (a gym). Then we got on stage and did what we could.
-Fun fact: our State concert program was 27 minutes long, and was followed by the sight reading thing, which was an additional, like, six. The sight reading judge was weird. He was a last-minute replacement and he reminded me of a priest. He said all these vague emotional things like "So just make that note come up and... hold the next note's hand." He talked at us for about ten minutes, and then we left that room too.
-Back in the rooms where we left all our cases, Mr Canter broke from tradition and told us not that our performance was totally perfect, but that he heard some intonation problems where he was. He did think our sight reading was the best we had ever done, but he also said that with the way Father Bandjudge was talking and all the esoteric stuff he was criticizing, he expected a III from him. Anyhow we went back to the cafeteria. We waited, and then we got our rating. It was an overall III. An overall III. Like I said, we weren't ready to be at State competition.
-Now, we are a resilient band. We got over it pretty quickly, though I think Mr Canter took a lot longer. We were having fun on the ride home. (By "we" I mean everyone else, because I hated it on the bus, for two and a half hours.) Then back in Finneytown Mr Canter let off a lot of steam by yelling at people for being rowdy on the buses, and then we went to our respective homes.
I have other stuff to write, but it's coming up on three o'clock, so I'm going to go to bed and tell you about it tomorrow.
I am glad that I'm going to be going to college someplace far away from Finneytown. Earlier this year, another student from my school, Derwin Murphy, was walking home from Kroger when (I think this is correct) he got mugged and shot in the leg. He survived, but it's clear that we're not living in a safe place when two students from my school have gotten shot within one year. And it doesn't speak very favorably to society in general. What kind of species are we that we kill our own when they've done nothing to merit it and can do nothing to defend themselves? Animals kill to stay alive, or (in pack systems) to avenge treachery. Humans kill for fun or out of rage. Sometimes I don't feel very proud to be a human.
Recently AP tests were the story of the day, every day, for several weeks. I only had AP history, so I got off fairly light, but next year I have five nationally-administered AP exams. History is a very hard one. It's not solid fact that you can arrive at by logic, like calculus, but there again it's not a field composed of opinions like psychology is, so you can't just BS your way through the test. We had four after-school study sessions, and I went to the last two, because (1) I needed to study and (2) there was pizza. The test was on May 5th, in the library. It was hard. There are 80 multiple choice questions, and Mr Volz has advocated leaving about ten of them blank, because the test is created so that no one can get all the answers. The knowledge is just too obscure. The good news is that under Mr Volz's excellent coaching, Finneytown is well above the national average for how many pass the test; the average is about half, though I don't recall our figure. I think I did quite well on it. I don't know if hoping for a 5 (highest) is too ambitious, but a 4 is well within expectations.
-Hm, let me browse my journal to see what else has happened recently.
-Oh yes: the band went to State contest. Of note is that just like the Marching Band State Contest, this was in Columbus, so we had an invigorating two-and-a-half hour drive in buses that produced an incessant 80 or 90 decibels, without even counting the 40 or 50 kids jammed on each one and contributing an extra 20 or so to the average. I hate buses. I also hate staying in large crowds or crowded places for a long time. Whenever I do, the words of Agent Smith come back to me:
"I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can't stand it any longer. It's the smell, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it. I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I've somehow been infected by it."
We got in the building, which was the colossal Gahanna Lincoln High School. I'm going to be frankly honest here: we weren't ready to be at State competition. But we got into some sort of groove, or at least kind of felt like we did, when we were in the warm-up hall (a gym). Then we got on stage and did what we could.
-Fun fact: our State concert program was 27 minutes long, and was followed by the sight reading thing, which was an additional, like, six. The sight reading judge was weird. He was a last-minute replacement and he reminded me of a priest. He said all these vague emotional things like "So just make that note come up and... hold the next note's hand." He talked at us for about ten minutes, and then we left that room too.
-Back in the rooms where we left all our cases, Mr Canter broke from tradition and told us not that our performance was totally perfect, but that he heard some intonation problems where he was. He did think our sight reading was the best we had ever done, but he also said that with the way Father Bandjudge was talking and all the esoteric stuff he was criticizing, he expected a III from him. Anyhow we went back to the cafeteria. We waited, and then we got our rating. It was an overall III. An overall III. Like I said, we weren't ready to be at State competition.
-Now, we are a resilient band. We got over it pretty quickly, though I think Mr Canter took a lot longer. We were having fun on the ride home. (By "we" I mean everyone else, because I hated it on the bus, for two and a half hours.) Then back in Finneytown Mr Canter let off a lot of steam by yelling at people for being rowdy on the buses, and then we went to our respective homes.
I have other stuff to write, but it's coming up on three o'clock, so I'm going to go to bed and tell you about it tomorrow.
Sunday, April 2, 2006
Information Age
I have entered the world of technology. Yesterday, unexpectedly, my dad tossed a bag from RadioShack at me and told me, "Merry birthday." I looked inside. It was an mp3 player: a SanDisk sansa. I'm naming it Gregor. Catch the pun? (No?) I finished playing a game of Egyptian Ratscrew with Micah and then loaded some stuff onto it. Some Grieg stuff. What I need now is a way to put CD stuff on--we just used a trial version of a thing Dad downloaded, and it expires on Thursday. Also I want a file that converts RealPlayer files into mp3s. A lot of my favorite music comes from the internet, and everything is Real there. Hmm. Gregor complicates my life a little. Now I can do more than one thing at once, so I'm more prone to trying to multitask. This might have repercussions at some point, like decreased productivity. I'll try to control things. Also I have to move around less to keep the earbuds from falling out. Hmm.
-My watch is in for repairs; the crown was stripped. I'm using an old pocketwatch in the interim. It's nice, but it gains about a minute per day. It only gives a sort of notion of what time it is. I'm anxious to have my watch back.
-Its getting spring out there. We've had a very wet year so far. It's rained a whole lot. We had six straight days of rain in March, and then about 50% of the rest of the month was also rainy, and so far in April we've already had a very enthusiastic storm, which is still going on right now. It seems like thunderstorms now that I'm older are always farther off and more lethargic than when I was young. I used to sit at the living room window and watch the lightning have an animated conversation with the ground just beyond the trees. Now, I look and listen, but the lightning is always somewhere in the next town, and the thunder only occasionally happens at all. The only exception is those storms that are really loud and wake me up at about 0300. Those ones are always really excited, but I generally have to go back to sleep, and I have no time to sit at the window and watch it. I wish the storms would come back. Incidentally, the best thunderstorms I've seen were at Crowduck last year. The one produced the beginnings of a tornado, which chased a couple of our boats onto the shore. The other one was the last night. I was sitting on the screen porch. The storm came in from around Whiteshell. It was really talking. The sky was lit up more often than not, and it was silhouetting the pine forest with an erratic strobe. The thunder came in the sharp cracks that let you know it's happening close by; there was one of these about once every two seconds, and the rest of the time was filled up with the low, grumbling reverberation through the dense forest.
-I ought to get to bed.
-My watch is in for repairs; the crown was stripped. I'm using an old pocketwatch in the interim. It's nice, but it gains about a minute per day. It only gives a sort of notion of what time it is. I'm anxious to have my watch back.
-Its getting spring out there. We've had a very wet year so far. It's rained a whole lot. We had six straight days of rain in March, and then about 50% of the rest of the month was also rainy, and so far in April we've already had a very enthusiastic storm, which is still going on right now. It seems like thunderstorms now that I'm older are always farther off and more lethargic than when I was young. I used to sit at the living room window and watch the lightning have an animated conversation with the ground just beyond the trees. Now, I look and listen, but the lightning is always somewhere in the next town, and the thunder only occasionally happens at all. The only exception is those storms that are really loud and wake me up at about 0300. Those ones are always really excited, but I generally have to go back to sleep, and I have no time to sit at the window and watch it. I wish the storms would come back. Incidentally, the best thunderstorms I've seen were at Crowduck last year. The one produced the beginnings of a tornado, which chased a couple of our boats onto the shore. The other one was the last night. I was sitting on the screen porch. The storm came in from around Whiteshell. It was really talking. The sky was lit up more often than not, and it was silhouetting the pine forest with an erratic strobe. The thunder came in the sharp cracks that let you know it's happening close by; there was one of these about once every two seconds, and the rest of the time was filled up with the low, grumbling reverberation through the dense forest.
-I ought to get to bed.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
the Umpqua Squeegee Inquisition
Oh, man. Isn't that a great title? Obviously it's completely irrelevant, but isn't it great?
I had a birthday this Friday. I'd say several factors contributed to it being the best birthday I've had in several years. First, during band, Matt Rebman and Jess Scholl surprised me with a blue mylar balloon, festooned with permanent marker renditions of drawings from shirts from my store (visit it, www.cafepress.com/permanentmarker . BUY STUFF) and "Happy Birthday". I tied it to my wrist. Later I found out they had decorated my locker too. Isn't it great? In history we read out of some old books, but on a whim I decided to achieve neutral buoyancy with my balloon by tying stuff to it. I soon found about the right balance of pencils and rubber bands to keep it hovering in the air, not sinking and not rising. By the time I got it, a lot of people were watching me, including Mr Volz. (I also that bell mentioned I was in the process of creating a shirt with a picture of Alan Greenspan really digging it on a wicked electric guitar, but I sucked at drawing guitars, and he drew some for me.) In math we had a test, but it was only a slight blemish because the stuff was easy and I feel reasonably confident I got a 100% on it. Afterwards I worked toward neutral buoyancy again, with more precision. Gradually everyone became riveted by the process. I tied a receipt to the string with the rest of the ballast and tore off little bits of it at a time. Once, I thought I had gotten it, but then Cait Pantano, sounding tragedy-stricken, said, "No, it's going down!" and I had to tear a little more off. Finally I tore off what seemed like a little too much--it almost imperceptibly started rising--but declared it a victory after it also started falling, a little later, and attributed the variations to air currents. I really had an audience, and they were enthralled. Thanks, Matt and Jess, for the balloon.
-I rode home with it on my bike, which was interesting, and then had chips and salsa until my mom came home and took me to Fuddrucker's. Nobody else came, because Dad was getting home late, and Micah's suspension deal has morphed into a kind of home-schooling thing because they won't let him back in, and we dumped him on Dad's parents in West Virginia for a week. Now, the only thing is, Fuddrucker's has kind of gone down in quality. They still have the World's Greatest Hamburgers, but they don't put that sprinkling of spices on the fries anymore, and that was what made them so great. They also were out of root beer that day. But still, subbing in Dr Pepper, I had a great and also very fulfilling dinner. I opened my presents from Mom: two CDs (Bernstein and Pachelbel/others) and five books. The books were Ethan Frome, Oliver Twist, Night, The Grapes of Wrath, and Moby-Dick. Mom knows I'm trying to get my foot into the classics. Right now I've read about 80 pages of Oliver Twist. After dinner the I found out the staff was calling out trivia questions over the loudspeaker. I got one right--the answer was "Polyester"--and they gave me a free card good for a half-pound burger. Just before we left, I got another one right ("depression") and they gave me another. Finally, to close out a great day, at home I loitered around the Internet long past curfew and went to bed for a long time.
-The thread on the screw-down crown of my watch has been deteriorating for a long time, but today it finally became officially stripped, as in I can't screw it down anymore. I'm going to have to take it up to some watch expert's place, like at the mall I guess, and have them overhaul it. Dad says they'll also want to do a cleaning, and it'll set me back about $50. That's too much. But it's cheaper than buying a new one. I paid $200 for this. Maybe it's under warranty, though. I'll see if I can find my thingy. Warranty sheet, or whatever.
-Third quarter's over. I'd say I did well. I hope I did well.
-Oh! Plus, this last week, we had a freak March snow day! It was great. About three inches of snow came down. The roads were more or less totally clear, so I didn't even check to see if we had anything, but Mom was listening to the radio that morning and shouted we had a two-hour delay. I went back to sleep, and when I woke up I checked the WLW SchoolWatch and it was a snow day. The roads were still pretty much clear, and I realized the staff had wanted a snow day just as much as I did, so they just used this as an excuse. That's the one good thing the administration has done for me this year.
-I'm thirsty. I'm going to get a glass of milk. I sure do hope I'm cleared of any wrongdoing involving those squeegees.
I had a birthday this Friday. I'd say several factors contributed to it being the best birthday I've had in several years. First, during band, Matt Rebman and Jess Scholl surprised me with a blue mylar balloon, festooned with permanent marker renditions of drawings from shirts from my store (visit it, www.cafepress.com/permanentmarker . BUY STUFF) and "Happy Birthday". I tied it to my wrist. Later I found out they had decorated my locker too. Isn't it great? In history we read out of some old books, but on a whim I decided to achieve neutral buoyancy with my balloon by tying stuff to it. I soon found about the right balance of pencils and rubber bands to keep it hovering in the air, not sinking and not rising. By the time I got it, a lot of people were watching me, including Mr Volz. (I also that bell mentioned I was in the process of creating a shirt with a picture of Alan Greenspan really digging it on a wicked electric guitar, but I sucked at drawing guitars, and he drew some for me.) In math we had a test, but it was only a slight blemish because the stuff was easy and I feel reasonably confident I got a 100% on it. Afterwards I worked toward neutral buoyancy again, with more precision. Gradually everyone became riveted by the process. I tied a receipt to the string with the rest of the ballast and tore off little bits of it at a time. Once, I thought I had gotten it, but then Cait Pantano, sounding tragedy-stricken, said, "No, it's going down!" and I had to tear a little more off. Finally I tore off what seemed like a little too much--it almost imperceptibly started rising--but declared it a victory after it also started falling, a little later, and attributed the variations to air currents. I really had an audience, and they were enthralled. Thanks, Matt and Jess, for the balloon.
-I rode home with it on my bike, which was interesting, and then had chips and salsa until my mom came home and took me to Fuddrucker's. Nobody else came, because Dad was getting home late, and Micah's suspension deal has morphed into a kind of home-schooling thing because they won't let him back in, and we dumped him on Dad's parents in West Virginia for a week. Now, the only thing is, Fuddrucker's has kind of gone down in quality. They still have the World's Greatest Hamburgers, but they don't put that sprinkling of spices on the fries anymore, and that was what made them so great. They also were out of root beer that day. But still, subbing in Dr Pepper, I had a great and also very fulfilling dinner. I opened my presents from Mom: two CDs (Bernstein and Pachelbel/others) and five books. The books were Ethan Frome, Oliver Twist, Night, The Grapes of Wrath, and Moby-Dick. Mom knows I'm trying to get my foot into the classics. Right now I've read about 80 pages of Oliver Twist. After dinner the I found out the staff was calling out trivia questions over the loudspeaker. I got one right--the answer was "Polyester"--and they gave me a free card good for a half-pound burger. Just before we left, I got another one right ("depression") and they gave me another. Finally, to close out a great day, at home I loitered around the Internet long past curfew and went to bed for a long time.
-The thread on the screw-down crown of my watch has been deteriorating for a long time, but today it finally became officially stripped, as in I can't screw it down anymore. I'm going to have to take it up to some watch expert's place, like at the mall I guess, and have them overhaul it. Dad says they'll also want to do a cleaning, and it'll set me back about $50. That's too much. But it's cheaper than buying a new one. I paid $200 for this. Maybe it's under warranty, though. I'll see if I can find my thingy. Warranty sheet, or whatever.
-Third quarter's over. I'd say I did well. I hope I did well.
-Oh! Plus, this last week, we had a freak March snow day! It was great. About three inches of snow came down. The roads were more or less totally clear, so I didn't even check to see if we had anything, but Mom was listening to the radio that morning and shouted we had a two-hour delay. I went back to sleep, and when I woke up I checked the WLW SchoolWatch and it was a snow day. The roads were still pretty much clear, and I realized the staff had wanted a snow day just as much as I did, so they just used this as an excuse. That's the one good thing the administration has done for me this year.
-I'm thirsty. I'm going to get a glass of milk. I sure do hope I'm cleared of any wrongdoing involving those squeegees.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Buy now while supplies
Last time I updated, it seems, was in January. Well. I, uh, I guess I don't really have an excuse to give you. I mean, I could think one up, but--well, actually...
-After school all days of the week until late at night I had to go to my special apprenticeship to Trent Lott. I was thus unable to update my blog.
Well, now that that's settled, let's get down to buisness. Here in Cincinnati our crappy start to the winter led directly into a crappy end to the winter, making for an all-around crappy winter. I think we got maybe five inches of snow the whole time. Sometimes people ask me why I like snow and cold weather. I can't really say why. I suppose part of it is that I really hate being hot; every summer, lulled into complacency by an idyllic period of temperate weather, I realize again with renewed feeling how much I hate it. When you're hot, there's no escape unless you have the air conditioning up really high (thus spending money better usable elsewhere) or you're willing to go all the way to an air-conditioned restaurant or the pool. Another part is that I like it when there's snow on the ground. I mean, I don't know; I just like it. A lot of this is going to be personal taste. Ooh, here's another one: I'm a night person, and winter has longer nights. Of course, Minnesota has summers too, with long days, but they have good winters, unlike here. I think another reason is that, though summers aren't too bad and they certainly offer some good opportunities for recreation, they need to be balanced out by a winter. A good winter. I'm just kind of rambling here, though.
-In band we just kept on playing that music. We got it quite good. There was this one day that Mr Canter realized we were all really just burnt out on band, so he gave us Friday off of X-Period in exchange for a promise that we'd all practice 20 minutes that weekend. Finally, last Saturday, we took two buses on down to Winton Woods High School, which I discovered is actually about as close to Winton Woods as Finneytown is, and did our contest performance. The stage there was really crowded. I performed pretty much right on it, I suppose. I gave it some punch, anyhow. The three pieces we did were New Dawn, The Awakening, and National Emblem. I think I like New Dawn or maybe National Emblem best. Anyhow, then we went on to the sight-reading room (their library) and played Whispers of the Wind, which was about on a seventh-grade level. We shuffled off to the cafeteria and, directly, found out we got a I. Huzzah! They say it's the first time in history we Finneytowners have gotten a I in Class A. Okay!
-So anyhow, the end result is we're now going to State and we've retired The Awakening and National Emblem in favor of something called Loudoun Praises, and something else TBA.
-On other fronts, I wrote an article for the newspaper about why watching TV is bad. A lot of my source material was this, which, though in need of some aggressive editing, has some good material. I encourage you to read it some time. I have sworn off TV except for shows like Jeopardy! and the occasional dose of something else like The Simpsons, which can at times be just as interesting as a book, or, if not, at least has a lot more comedic value. For this reason I also enjoy Dave Letterman, though I'm rarely up that late. Sounds like a lot of exceptions, but, then again, think of how many shows you watch. Oh, you say you don't even have time to watch TV, so you don't. Well, that's because you're a high school/college student, in which case you probably watch a fair amount nevertheless. If you aren't a student and you still say that you're most likely a liar.
-I guess that qualifies as a rant. But it's a very civilized and abbreviated one.
-Today in math we were working on probability; we were doing a problem about phone numbers. It had to do with how many possibilities there are for each group of numbers ((aaa) bbb-cccc) when figuring in given restrictions (such as: in the area code the first digit can't be 1 or 0, and the second digit has to be either 1 or 0). Well, for the last four digits, the restriction was that at least one of them has to be something other than 0. How many possible four-digit combinations are there in that system? The way the class has learned to work it, you multiply 10 × 10 × 10 × 9 and get 9000, because one of them has to be restricted to nine digits. If you're a thinking person, this will immediately jump out at you as incorrect. The correct way to figure it is to realize that by requiring that at least one digit not be zero, the only combination they have excluded is 0000, which is one of 10,000 possibilities. This leaves 9999 viable combinations, which is considerably more than 9000. However, Mrs Otten didn't object at all when someone wrote it on the board the other way, and neither did anyone else in the class. Just having realized they were doing this problem at the board (I'm prone to bouts of apathy in math, wherein I just doodle on a sheet of paper), I raised my hand to tell her the way I did it, but, because I had made a comment about just excluding 0000 earlier while I was only listening and not watching--a comment that apparently went unheard except by Mrs Otten--she told me, "I knew you were going to say that," and then gave me the "wait a second" sign, meaning she'd come back to it later. She didn't; she just kept on doing the problem until it was done, wrong, with the answers all about ten percent off. I raised my hand again. She came over and squatted down next to my desk and told me in a confidential voice that, yes, technically that was the correct way, but the simple way gave an answer that wasn't all that far off and anyhow this kind of situation didn't come up that often, so she had made a decision that she wasn't going to bother teaching the right way to get the answer. Then she walked away and I chewed on that for a while. Gradually I started getting more and more righteously incensed by this deliberate miseducation. Toward the end of class I raised my hand again. I came over and told her, "I've been thinking about this--", but she instantly cut me off and started getting defensive and angry and told me that she had made the decision to let this mistake ride because it didn't really come up that often and if I wanted to debate her on it we could do it in private. I started to make the argument that none of the other stuff we learned in math class came up that often, or, indeed, ever, and the fact that there was even a real-life example of this should give it some special consideration, but she wouldn't give me the chance. It was the end of the bell, so I stopped arguing and got ready to leave. Later I realized that I shouldn't have given in to her: I was clearly in the right; in fact, I was mathematically proven to be in the right, so I should have kept on arguing it with her until she was forced to concede, and not just let her change reality because she gets paid to illuminate it to us! I realized this while I was walking to my next class. Later, I thought: how much has Mrs Otten been miseducating us about? Who else has been lying to us? Why now should I trust any of the faculty? I've had my feelings that the staff around here was a bit dubious: problems with discipline, unquestioning acceptance of totalitarian regulations. Usually I've been able to overlook it and figure that I simply misunderstood or didn't well enough understand the situation. Perhaps that guy's swearing and slurring wasn't actually against the rules severely enough to warrant action, even though it seemed to be. Or, maybe there's a good reason that the main entrance to the high school is still blocked by mud and construction fence more than four months after the water main was replaced. Dr Tracy was willing to give reasons for things that seemed illogical. I figured usually these reasons at least had a hint of reason in them, somewhere, or he wouldn't give them. (There were exceptions to this, such as when I noted, "Isn't it funny how the cheerleaders' uniforms are so against the dress code?" and he said, "I don't know which parts of the dress code you would be talking about...".) But now I'm disillusioned. If there's corruption that's this outright, then I really have no reason to trust anything a staff member says again. I'm now thrilled by the revelation that this school is a place where lying is commonplace and not really frowned on at all! It explains so much! Why do we have to tuck in our shirts? No reason; they're just lying because they thought it would create "common decency" and they don't want to admit it did nothing but seriously make students mad at them. Why is that construction project still unfinished? When I asked Dr Tracy, he said it was because the winter wasn't a good time of the year to plant grass, and they wanted to do the whole thing at once. At first I thought that was just a true reason that happened to be absolutely ridiculous; now I realize that it was total bull. The thing it doesn't explain is: Why am I letting this group of people take charge of my learning, my intellect, and my future?
-That's a rant.
-After school all days of the week until late at night I had to go to my special apprenticeship to Trent Lott. I was thus unable to update my blog.
Well, now that that's settled, let's get down to buisness. Here in Cincinnati our crappy start to the winter led directly into a crappy end to the winter, making for an all-around crappy winter. I think we got maybe five inches of snow the whole time. Sometimes people ask me why I like snow and cold weather. I can't really say why. I suppose part of it is that I really hate being hot; every summer, lulled into complacency by an idyllic period of temperate weather, I realize again with renewed feeling how much I hate it. When you're hot, there's no escape unless you have the air conditioning up really high (thus spending money better usable elsewhere) or you're willing to go all the way to an air-conditioned restaurant or the pool. Another part is that I like it when there's snow on the ground. I mean, I don't know; I just like it. A lot of this is going to be personal taste. Ooh, here's another one: I'm a night person, and winter has longer nights. Of course, Minnesota has summers too, with long days, but they have good winters, unlike here. I think another reason is that, though summers aren't too bad and they certainly offer some good opportunities for recreation, they need to be balanced out by a winter. A good winter. I'm just kind of rambling here, though.
-In band we just kept on playing that music. We got it quite good. There was this one day that Mr Canter realized we were all really just burnt out on band, so he gave us Friday off of X-Period in exchange for a promise that we'd all practice 20 minutes that weekend. Finally, last Saturday, we took two buses on down to Winton Woods High School, which I discovered is actually about as close to Winton Woods as Finneytown is, and did our contest performance. The stage there was really crowded. I performed pretty much right on it, I suppose. I gave it some punch, anyhow. The three pieces we did were New Dawn, The Awakening, and National Emblem. I think I like New Dawn or maybe National Emblem best. Anyhow, then we went on to the sight-reading room (their library) and played Whispers of the Wind, which was about on a seventh-grade level. We shuffled off to the cafeteria and, directly, found out we got a I. Huzzah! They say it's the first time in history we Finneytowners have gotten a I in Class A. Okay!
-So anyhow, the end result is we're now going to State and we've retired The Awakening and National Emblem in favor of something called Loudoun Praises, and something else TBA.
-On other fronts, I wrote an article for the newspaper about why watching TV is bad. A lot of my source material was this, which, though in need of some aggressive editing, has some good material. I encourage you to read it some time. I have sworn off TV except for shows like Jeopardy! and the occasional dose of something else like The Simpsons, which can at times be just as interesting as a book, or, if not, at least has a lot more comedic value. For this reason I also enjoy Dave Letterman, though I'm rarely up that late. Sounds like a lot of exceptions, but, then again, think of how many shows you watch. Oh, you say you don't even have time to watch TV, so you don't. Well, that's because you're a high school/college student, in which case you probably watch a fair amount nevertheless. If you aren't a student and you still say that you're most likely a liar.
-I guess that qualifies as a rant. But it's a very civilized and abbreviated one.
-Today in math we were working on probability; we were doing a problem about phone numbers. It had to do with how many possibilities there are for each group of numbers ((aaa) bbb-cccc) when figuring in given restrictions (such as: in the area code the first digit can't be 1 or 0, and the second digit has to be either 1 or 0). Well, for the last four digits, the restriction was that at least one of them has to be something other than 0. How many possible four-digit combinations are there in that system? The way the class has learned to work it, you multiply 10 × 10 × 10 × 9 and get 9000, because one of them has to be restricted to nine digits. If you're a thinking person, this will immediately jump out at you as incorrect. The correct way to figure it is to realize that by requiring that at least one digit not be zero, the only combination they have excluded is 0000, which is one of 10,000 possibilities. This leaves 9999 viable combinations, which is considerably more than 9000. However, Mrs Otten didn't object at all when someone wrote it on the board the other way, and neither did anyone else in the class. Just having realized they were doing this problem at the board (I'm prone to bouts of apathy in math, wherein I just doodle on a sheet of paper), I raised my hand to tell her the way I did it, but, because I had made a comment about just excluding 0000 earlier while I was only listening and not watching--a comment that apparently went unheard except by Mrs Otten--she told me, "I knew you were going to say that," and then gave me the "wait a second" sign, meaning she'd come back to it later. She didn't; she just kept on doing the problem until it was done, wrong, with the answers all about ten percent off. I raised my hand again. She came over and squatted down next to my desk and told me in a confidential voice that, yes, technically that was the correct way, but the simple way gave an answer that wasn't all that far off and anyhow this kind of situation didn't come up that often, so she had made a decision that she wasn't going to bother teaching the right way to get the answer. Then she walked away and I chewed on that for a while. Gradually I started getting more and more righteously incensed by this deliberate miseducation. Toward the end of class I raised my hand again. I came over and told her, "I've been thinking about this--", but she instantly cut me off and started getting defensive and angry and told me that she had made the decision to let this mistake ride because it didn't really come up that often and if I wanted to debate her on it we could do it in private. I started to make the argument that none of the other stuff we learned in math class came up that often, or, indeed, ever, and the fact that there was even a real-life example of this should give it some special consideration, but she wouldn't give me the chance. It was the end of the bell, so I stopped arguing and got ready to leave. Later I realized that I shouldn't have given in to her: I was clearly in the right; in fact, I was mathematically proven to be in the right, so I should have kept on arguing it with her until she was forced to concede, and not just let her change reality because she gets paid to illuminate it to us! I realized this while I was walking to my next class. Later, I thought: how much has Mrs Otten been miseducating us about? Who else has been lying to us? Why now should I trust any of the faculty? I've had my feelings that the staff around here was a bit dubious: problems with discipline, unquestioning acceptance of totalitarian regulations. Usually I've been able to overlook it and figure that I simply misunderstood or didn't well enough understand the situation. Perhaps that guy's swearing and slurring wasn't actually against the rules severely enough to warrant action, even though it seemed to be. Or, maybe there's a good reason that the main entrance to the high school is still blocked by mud and construction fence more than four months after the water main was replaced. Dr Tracy was willing to give reasons for things that seemed illogical. I figured usually these reasons at least had a hint of reason in them, somewhere, or he wouldn't give them. (There were exceptions to this, such as when I noted, "Isn't it funny how the cheerleaders' uniforms are so against the dress code?" and he said, "I don't know which parts of the dress code you would be talking about...".) But now I'm disillusioned. If there's corruption that's this outright, then I really have no reason to trust anything a staff member says again. I'm now thrilled by the revelation that this school is a place where lying is commonplace and not really frowned on at all! It explains so much! Why do we have to tuck in our shirts? No reason; they're just lying because they thought it would create "common decency" and they don't want to admit it did nothing but seriously make students mad at them. Why is that construction project still unfinished? When I asked Dr Tracy, he said it was because the winter wasn't a good time of the year to plant grass, and they wanted to do the whole thing at once. At first I thought that was just a true reason that happened to be absolutely ridiculous; now I realize that it was total bull. The thing it doesn't explain is: Why am I letting this group of people take charge of my learning, my intellect, and my future?
-That's a rant.
What?
Honestly, I don't know why you bother coming back here to keep checking if I don't write anything. Hold on, because I've got to switch to the computer in my room. This one is outfitted with The Virtually Indestructible Keyboard, which is a great idea but the absolute worst computer keyboard as far as typing ergonomics goes. It rates only a step above manual typewriter, and it's considerably below an electric one.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Honest Excuse
I have an honest excuse for not updating my blog. My computer has come up with a very successful new way to irritate me: about fifteen minutes after I turn it on, it abruptly and with no warning whatsoever switches off. I didn't want to go through starting an entry just to have it disappear to the Land of Lost Data. Fortunately, we've discovered that the problem doesn't happen under my Mom's username; unfortunately (since my font-making program is under my name), I can't work on Cyril until it's fixed. I do have the italic for it somewhat finished, but I don't have any numbers done.
-Well. First, the holidays. Boy, it's a stretch thinking back that far. First, we went on up to Dayton or wherever--Middletown, Centerville, one of those--and did Christmas on my Dad's side of the family. I got some good socks like I asked for, one of those neat Magnetic Induction Principle flashlights, uh, some other things, and of course peanut butter fudge. Nana's peanut butter fudge is sublime. And since it's made with sugar, it keeps for a long time, enabling me to eat just one piece a day and savor it for weeks. I think I have seven pieces left.
-A few days later (on Christmas Eve--for tactical reasons, Christmas is never allowed to be on Christmas now), we had Christmas in Oxford with my Mom's side of the family. There I got a few books, also as I asked, and a fishing lure, and a tackle box, and a lava lamp ( I still don't know why), and some incense I haven't seen since, and, uh, some other stuff. Also, I got seventy-five bucks: seventy from Grandpa, and five from Uncle Joe. I have to say: if you can manage it, being Grandpa's grandson can be pretty profitable. Ha, ha, ha. Just kidding, Grandpa. (Kind of!)
-The next year, school started back up. Pfaugh. And so did January. Now, I read somewhere that Cincinnati has never had a snowless January, but, if it weren't for some kind of freaking little flurry or something that happened in the very early days, we may be on our way to the first. We have had just slightly above zero snowfall this whole month so far. There are not words for the contempt I feel for this January. If there were something concrete I could blame it on--say, some machine--a good word would be hostility. If there were something to blame, I could get really involved, probably to a criminal extent, in absolutely ravaging whatever it was until it was torn apart into unrecognizable bits. This has been the suckiest winter I've experienced as far back as I can remember. All season, we've had one snowstorm! And then about four weeks of fifty-degree weather! As soon as humanly possible, I'm getting out of this backward, oil-slicked, dark gray town, this town that's covered tangibly with a thick layer of tedium, where there are no positive aspects or attractions, where the center of town is a Taco Bell, and of course where the school system has been perverted by soulless board members who don't even consider what the students think and whose goal looks to be to turn Finneytown into Big Brother's first outpost, just to give a totalitarian kick to the new millennium. I may or may not go to college somewhere in New England (see below post), but wherever I do, I'm going to move to Minnesota afterwards. As soon as I can, I'll buy a shoreline cabin on a forgotten lake wrapped in dark green pine forest and stretching out far enough to get lost in. During the nights, the only sound will be the occasional thunderstorm every week or so and maybe distant cars on a highway that only exists as part of a world I don't belong to. During the days, there will be the interweaving songs of all the different birds on shore, and the splash of my kayak's paddles and the whiz of my reel as I go out into a distant bay to catch fish for dinner, and maybe the thrum of a mayfly's wings just before it lands on my hand. On vacations, I'll go out paddling, straying for days down a string of interconnected lakes into places where they haven't yet gotten the news that the human race was invented, and then stopping in a distant lake, turning around, and pointing my kayak back to home whenever I decide I want to. Maybe I'll remember those days when I was in a distant land of truck exhaust, police sirens, and the afterglow of city lights electrifying the smog to taint the night sky from black to a sickly purple. Then I'll just shake my head and jump into the water.
Exams were last week. I'm embarrassed to admit I had to take English: I got a B first quarter, because I failed to turn in one assignment. It was the Puritanism and Neoclassicism notes that we had to turn in alongside the test on the test day. I hadn't taken notes in class, because I'm not a take-notes kind of guy, and I never heard her tell us to, and so I stayed up 'til after midnight the night before to work on them. Then, on the test day, there was no exact time when someone said, "Okay, turn your notes in now to this place," and so I didn't. I suppose we were just supposed to staple them to the test. So, I didn't turn them in, and they were worth (whoa!) twenty points, and I got a B for the quarter. Mom, shut up! Yes, it is too late to do anything about it, and yes, I almost ceratinly have an A for the semester anyhow! But I had to take the exam. Otherwise, the ones that you can't get exempt from were math, history, Spanish, and physics. The only hard one among these was history, but boy was it a bear. Fortunately, Mr Volz grades on a curve. He says only one person has ever gotten an uncurved A on his midterm, and she was the person who, when they were reviewing things in class, would say, "Oh, yeah, that's question 18 on test 7," or something like that. On the day I took physics and history, there were three exams scheduled, but there's obviously no exam for study hall, so I had a free bell between them, and it lasted two and a half hours. The exam schedule said students were expected to stay off campus when they didn't have an exam, but just to be sure, I checked in with Mrs Flick to see what I was supposed to do. She said I had to stay on campus! So: not only is the school moronic for making me stay when I had nothing to do, it's also misleading and inconsistent! Well, Aaron invited me to stay in Mrs Lawyer's room to waste time while he finished up some sort of webpage design project for her, so I did.
The forecast calls for warmer-than-average weather, with rain two days next week, and a possiblity of a little bit of snow that will melt anyhow.
This is the first of two new posts. The other is just underneath this one.
-Well. First, the holidays. Boy, it's a stretch thinking back that far. First, we went on up to Dayton or wherever--Middletown, Centerville, one of those--and did Christmas on my Dad's side of the family. I got some good socks like I asked for, one of those neat Magnetic Induction Principle flashlights, uh, some other things, and of course peanut butter fudge. Nana's peanut butter fudge is sublime. And since it's made with sugar, it keeps for a long time, enabling me to eat just one piece a day and savor it for weeks. I think I have seven pieces left.
-A few days later (on Christmas Eve--for tactical reasons, Christmas is never allowed to be on Christmas now), we had Christmas in Oxford with my Mom's side of the family. There I got a few books, also as I asked, and a fishing lure, and a tackle box, and a lava lamp ( I still don't know why), and some incense I haven't seen since, and, uh, some other stuff. Also, I got seventy-five bucks: seventy from Grandpa, and five from Uncle Joe. I have to say: if you can manage it, being Grandpa's grandson can be pretty profitable. Ha, ha, ha. Just kidding, Grandpa. (Kind of!)
-The next year, school started back up. Pfaugh. And so did January. Now, I read somewhere that Cincinnati has never had a snowless January, but, if it weren't for some kind of freaking little flurry or something that happened in the very early days, we may be on our way to the first. We have had just slightly above zero snowfall this whole month so far. There are not words for the contempt I feel for this January. If there were something concrete I could blame it on--say, some machine--a good word would be hostility. If there were something to blame, I could get really involved, probably to a criminal extent, in absolutely ravaging whatever it was until it was torn apart into unrecognizable bits. This has been the suckiest winter I've experienced as far back as I can remember. All season, we've had one snowstorm! And then about four weeks of fifty-degree weather! As soon as humanly possible, I'm getting out of this backward, oil-slicked, dark gray town, this town that's covered tangibly with a thick layer of tedium, where there are no positive aspects or attractions, where the center of town is a Taco Bell, and of course where the school system has been perverted by soulless board members who don't even consider what the students think and whose goal looks to be to turn Finneytown into Big Brother's first outpost, just to give a totalitarian kick to the new millennium. I may or may not go to college somewhere in New England (see below post), but wherever I do, I'm going to move to Minnesota afterwards. As soon as I can, I'll buy a shoreline cabin on a forgotten lake wrapped in dark green pine forest and stretching out far enough to get lost in. During the nights, the only sound will be the occasional thunderstorm every week or so and maybe distant cars on a highway that only exists as part of a world I don't belong to. During the days, there will be the interweaving songs of all the different birds on shore, and the splash of my kayak's paddles and the whiz of my reel as I go out into a distant bay to catch fish for dinner, and maybe the thrum of a mayfly's wings just before it lands on my hand. On vacations, I'll go out paddling, straying for days down a string of interconnected lakes into places where they haven't yet gotten the news that the human race was invented, and then stopping in a distant lake, turning around, and pointing my kayak back to home whenever I decide I want to. Maybe I'll remember those days when I was in a distant land of truck exhaust, police sirens, and the afterglow of city lights electrifying the smog to taint the night sky from black to a sickly purple. Then I'll just shake my head and jump into the water.
Exams were last week. I'm embarrassed to admit I had to take English: I got a B first quarter, because I failed to turn in one assignment. It was the Puritanism and Neoclassicism notes that we had to turn in alongside the test on the test day. I hadn't taken notes in class, because I'm not a take-notes kind of guy, and I never heard her tell us to, and so I stayed up 'til after midnight the night before to work on them. Then, on the test day, there was no exact time when someone said, "Okay, turn your notes in now to this place," and so I didn't. I suppose we were just supposed to staple them to the test. So, I didn't turn them in, and they were worth (whoa!) twenty points, and I got a B for the quarter. Mom, shut up! Yes, it is too late to do anything about it, and yes, I almost ceratinly have an A for the semester anyhow! But I had to take the exam. Otherwise, the ones that you can't get exempt from were math, history, Spanish, and physics. The only hard one among these was history, but boy was it a bear. Fortunately, Mr Volz grades on a curve. He says only one person has ever gotten an uncurved A on his midterm, and she was the person who, when they were reviewing things in class, would say, "Oh, yeah, that's question 18 on test 7," or something like that. On the day I took physics and history, there were three exams scheduled, but there's obviously no exam for study hall, so I had a free bell between them, and it lasted two and a half hours. The exam schedule said students were expected to stay off campus when they didn't have an exam, but just to be sure, I checked in with Mrs Flick to see what I was supposed to do. She said I had to stay on campus! So: not only is the school moronic for making me stay when I had nothing to do, it's also misleading and inconsistent! Well, Aaron invited me to stay in Mrs Lawyer's room to waste time while he finished up some sort of webpage design project for her, so I did.
The forecast calls for warmer-than-average weather, with rain two days next week, and a possiblity of a little bit of snow that will melt anyhow.
This is the first of two new posts. The other is just underneath this one.
Oh, something else
I just reread the comments on my last post, and I noticed they had a distinct collegiate bent.
-I haven't even come close to deciding what college I'm going to go to. A few days ago, BJ was around on his semester break, and I had a nice long talk with him about colleges. He suggested one called Amherst in Massachusetts, and some other one in Minnesota that I forgot. He says pick one I like. Well, I won't try to contradict that advice. But he also says I ought to pick out one with a good reputation for its English department if I want to be an editor. This begs the question, BJ: How am I supposed to know what a college's reputation is? What I really need around now is a big list that says what assorted colleges are known for, and how well they're known for it. Is there such a list? Where do I get it? There probably isn't. So, how do I know?
-Another thing I need to know is how much colleges give for a National Merit Scholarship. It's different with each college. So how do I know what it is for each college? Like, say, does Amherst tell somewhere on their website how much they're going to give me because I'm a Scholar? And if not, how am I supposed to tastefully find out--from each college I'm thinking about? Or am I supposed to just navigate in the dark? And more than just how much they'll give me, here's another question. Where does it say what the tuition is for a college? That at least is probably on the website somewhere.
-Those are the questions I keep asking. Now I've actually asked them of someone.
-I haven't even come close to deciding what college I'm going to go to. A few days ago, BJ was around on his semester break, and I had a nice long talk with him about colleges. He suggested one called Amherst in Massachusetts, and some other one in Minnesota that I forgot. He says pick one I like. Well, I won't try to contradict that advice. But he also says I ought to pick out one with a good reputation for its English department if I want to be an editor. This begs the question, BJ: How am I supposed to know what a college's reputation is? What I really need around now is a big list that says what assorted colleges are known for, and how well they're known for it. Is there such a list? Where do I get it? There probably isn't. So, how do I know?
-Another thing I need to know is how much colleges give for a National Merit Scholarship. It's different with each college. So how do I know what it is for each college? Like, say, does Amherst tell somewhere on their website how much they're going to give me because I'm a Scholar? And if not, how am I supposed to tastefully find out--from each college I'm thinking about? Or am I supposed to just navigate in the dark? And more than just how much they'll give me, here's another question. Where does it say what the tuition is for a college? That at least is probably on the website somewhere.
-Those are the questions I keep asking. Now I've actually asked them of someone.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Four Sherbet Nixons and a Fudge Jibbly-Do
I didn't know what title to use, because I don't know what I'm going to write yet exactly, so I just made something up.
-Well, I'm going to write for the moment about that thing I mentioned at the end of the last post--the "rededication" of the PAC. I'll just copy it out of my journal.
-I had to report at 1815. It started, comically, at 1930. We all just sat and did nothing--or watched the Bengals-Colts game--until we went into the PAC slightly before then We stood onstage and played the Opener and the Closer (for the last time, I might add), and then sat down in some hard wooden seats to enjoy the ceremony.
-I really, literally don't think I can describe the profound, the unbelievable, the impossible boringness. I'll try. Imagine: You are sitting on a cushionless chair in a darkened section of the PAC 100 yards from the stage. The whole group you're with has been cautioned to be very quiet. Onstage, there is an old person. Thie person's task is to tell the whole audience what the PAC was like in the '70s, and to reminisce at incredible length and exhaustiveness about all the plays he did in the '70s--who directed them, the names of all the cast members, and anything and everything else he can possibly remember. He goes on for about twenty minutes without mentioning a single thing you can connect to, or a name you recognize. Then he concludes, there's some sarcastic applause, and up to the podium comes another old person. He is in charge of the '80s. Each speaker took at least twenty minutes onstage; some showed unrecognizable slides, and some came on as a group. Because the focus was moving toward the present from the '70s, they got progressively younger and more numerous. The three in charge of the '90s lasted probably 40 0r 50 minutes. I think they repeated some decades a couple times, because there were more than three groups.
-Finally, we all got up, attempted but failed to go onstage, and then spread around the audience, and had Mr William Swartzel, who started the band program Way Back When, conduct us in the fight song. Then, then we all ran away from the PAC like people chased by wolves and went home shaken. I could not believe how boring that was.
-Now that I've bored you all, let me think what else has happened. We did our holiday concert. Though I played pretty well in practice even a few hours before (at home), my lips were absolutely blown when I got onstage. I couldn't figure it out, but I couldn't get above, like, an F. I probably stuck out, too. They say what's done is done, but I still wish it were done better.
-The following week the big talk around town was the snowstorm predicted for Thursday night. Sources predicted it varying from two to eight inches, but always with 100% certainty of snow. The only question was how much it would snow and when it would start: these are the determining factors in a snow day. I had heard 1400, but on Thursday it didn't start up until I was biking home from school at 1500. Far too early, I thought. Fortunately, it wouldn't stop. It came down vigorously hour after hour, and slowly built up to at least, I figured, six inches. I was disappointed to note it tapering off at around eight or maybe later (I don't remember). I went to bed late, and when I did, there was at least a two-hour delay called in for Finneytown. I hoped for more.
-When I woke up it proved to be a snow day. So Micah and I took a walk up to Warder. I forgot to tell you about what we found up at Warder the other day. We were just walking around by the Ivory Tower (the tall pine tree) when we saw a couple of 6′×6′ wooden decks, one lying on the ground and one leaning up against a tree, and some plywood against another tree. There were also four chairs arranged around a fire pit. Weird, we thought. We investigated a little. Without too much effort, we discovered something even stranger: behind the sheets of plywood were five huge 3′×5′ playing cards. They were K♣, K♠, J♠, J♣, and Q♦. The Queen was weird because she looked like she was singing opera and her crown was poking off the top of the card, like those billboards that have extensions. We also found a scepter with a spade on the end. My immediate first thought was that it was some kind of weird pagan ritual. I still don't know any more about it. Without anything else to see, we left the area.
-That was a week or two before the snow day. On the snow day we just went to the pond and threw stuff across. It wasn't thick enough to walk on, which was puzzling because we'd had about four days in a row where it didn't get above freezing. A little later we went home.
-I had a surprisingly good Monday today. In band we got music: The Awakening, which we played last year, and something called New Dawn. That wasn't what contributed to it being good--it just happened. Let's see. I got my PSAT score back. I got a 222, and I'm in the 99th percentile. Rosie last year got annoyed because I kept asking everyone what they got and then telling them what I got (217) when they asked. She said it was bragging. So this year I just left the results sheet on my desk and watched people come over and look at it, or told them when they asked unsolicited. It still got all over the school, but this time it wasn't because of me. So there, Rosie.
-Next we had academic team, against both Summit Country Day and Mariemont. The matches were separated, and once we finished one we got to go to the other. With Summit, we didn't win, but I got a bunch of questions in the lightning round. With Mariemont we didn't win, but we were darn close, and we would have if they hadn't been faster than us on that last question. We lost 30 to 31. The last answer was Antony and Cleopatra, and Jane knew it (and I guess I kind of did), but they got it first. Nuts.
-But, I was asked my name by the coach of Summit's team, and she wrote it down under "best player on opposing team". I thought that was swell. I rode my bike home, and, since the sidewalks are covered with giant clumps of snow, I rode on the road. That was invigorating.
-And I finished off the day so far with a good pot roast. I've just discovered that my mom, who just left for a vacation to Arizona to her aunt and uncle to burn up her leftover vacation time (which she can't cash in or roll over), has gotten mysteriously ill. She got that way just three hours after she got on the plane, and now she's up in some hospital. They don't know exactly what's going on yet, or, if they do, they haven't told us. But apparently she still has the strength to nag me from across the country (viz. the last comment last post), so it can't be too bad.
-Well, I'm going to write for the moment about that thing I mentioned at the end of the last post--the "rededication" of the PAC. I'll just copy it out of my journal.
-I had to report at 1815. It started, comically, at 1930. We all just sat and did nothing--or watched the Bengals-Colts game--until we went into the PAC slightly before then We stood onstage and played the Opener and the Closer (for the last time, I might add), and then sat down in some hard wooden seats to enjoy the ceremony.
-I really, literally don't think I can describe the profound, the unbelievable, the impossible boringness. I'll try. Imagine: You are sitting on a cushionless chair in a darkened section of the PAC 100 yards from the stage. The whole group you're with has been cautioned to be very quiet. Onstage, there is an old person. Thie person's task is to tell the whole audience what the PAC was like in the '70s, and to reminisce at incredible length and exhaustiveness about all the plays he did in the '70s--who directed them, the names of all the cast members, and anything and everything else he can possibly remember. He goes on for about twenty minutes without mentioning a single thing you can connect to, or a name you recognize. Then he concludes, there's some sarcastic applause, and up to the podium comes another old person. He is in charge of the '80s. Each speaker took at least twenty minutes onstage; some showed unrecognizable slides, and some came on as a group. Because the focus was moving toward the present from the '70s, they got progressively younger and more numerous. The three in charge of the '90s lasted probably 40 0r 50 minutes. I think they repeated some decades a couple times, because there were more than three groups.
-Finally, we all got up, attempted but failed to go onstage, and then spread around the audience, and had Mr William Swartzel, who started the band program Way Back When, conduct us in the fight song. Then, then we all ran away from the PAC like people chased by wolves and went home shaken. I could not believe how boring that was.
-Now that I've bored you all, let me think what else has happened. We did our holiday concert. Though I played pretty well in practice even a few hours before (at home), my lips were absolutely blown when I got onstage. I couldn't figure it out, but I couldn't get above, like, an F. I probably stuck out, too. They say what's done is done, but I still wish it were done better.
-The following week the big talk around town was the snowstorm predicted for Thursday night. Sources predicted it varying from two to eight inches, but always with 100% certainty of snow. The only question was how much it would snow and when it would start: these are the determining factors in a snow day. I had heard 1400, but on Thursday it didn't start up until I was biking home from school at 1500. Far too early, I thought. Fortunately, it wouldn't stop. It came down vigorously hour after hour, and slowly built up to at least, I figured, six inches. I was disappointed to note it tapering off at around eight or maybe later (I don't remember). I went to bed late, and when I did, there was at least a two-hour delay called in for Finneytown. I hoped for more.
-When I woke up it proved to be a snow day. So Micah and I took a walk up to Warder. I forgot to tell you about what we found up at Warder the other day. We were just walking around by the Ivory Tower (the tall pine tree) when we saw a couple of 6′×6′ wooden decks, one lying on the ground and one leaning up against a tree, and some plywood against another tree. There were also four chairs arranged around a fire pit. Weird, we thought. We investigated a little. Without too much effort, we discovered something even stranger: behind the sheets of plywood were five huge 3′×5′ playing cards. They were K♣, K♠, J♠, J♣, and Q♦. The Queen was weird because she looked like she was singing opera and her crown was poking off the top of the card, like those billboards that have extensions. We also found a scepter with a spade on the end. My immediate first thought was that it was some kind of weird pagan ritual. I still don't know any more about it. Without anything else to see, we left the area.
-That was a week or two before the snow day. On the snow day we just went to the pond and threw stuff across. It wasn't thick enough to walk on, which was puzzling because we'd had about four days in a row where it didn't get above freezing. A little later we went home.
-I had a surprisingly good Monday today. In band we got music: The Awakening, which we played last year, and something called New Dawn. That wasn't what contributed to it being good--it just happened. Let's see. I got my PSAT score back. I got a 222, and I'm in the 99th percentile. Rosie last year got annoyed because I kept asking everyone what they got and then telling them what I got (217) when they asked. She said it was bragging. So this year I just left the results sheet on my desk and watched people come over and look at it, or told them when they asked unsolicited. It still got all over the school, but this time it wasn't because of me. So there, Rosie.
-Next we had academic team, against both Summit Country Day and Mariemont. The matches were separated, and once we finished one we got to go to the other. With Summit, we didn't win, but I got a bunch of questions in the lightning round. With Mariemont we didn't win, but we were darn close, and we would have if they hadn't been faster than us on that last question. We lost 30 to 31. The last answer was Antony and Cleopatra, and Jane knew it (and I guess I kind of did), but they got it first. Nuts.
-But, I was asked my name by the coach of Summit's team, and she wrote it down under "best player on opposing team". I thought that was swell. I rode my bike home, and, since the sidewalks are covered with giant clumps of snow, I rode on the road. That was invigorating.
-And I finished off the day so far with a good pot roast. I've just discovered that my mom, who just left for a vacation to Arizona to her aunt and uncle to burn up her leftover vacation time (which she can't cash in or roll over), has gotten mysteriously ill. She got that way just three hours after she got on the plane, and now she's up in some hospital. They don't know exactly what's going on yet, or, if they do, they haven't told us. But apparently she still has the strength to nag me from across the country (viz. the last comment last post), so it can't be too bad.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Now up--winter
I have neglected to write. Now, I'll be the first to admit that my life has been pretty busy, but I won't pretend that I had absolutely no time to write an entry. Another part of the lateness was just that I didn't want to at the time ("the time" being just whenever). Anyhow, here I am, back with you today, as if nothing had happened.
-First and most importantly, marching band season is over. And about time! We went to State in Columbus on November 4th. The high school hosting it was the size of a modest college. We were the first band to perform. Before going, we stood behind the field idling for twenty minutes while the judges combed their hair and read the comics. ("Hey, Mary Worth is good today.") Then we did our show just like we'd been trained to since July--excellently. Unfortunately, the judges didn't think it was quite so good. Perhaps because we went on first and if they'd given us a One they'd have had to give one to everyone else, or perhaps because our tone was off because of our nice break behind the field, or perhaps because they had a little indigestion and were in a bad mood, they gave us a Two. Well, a Two at State isn't so bad. Not the best, but nothing to sneeze at. Look at it this way: we hadn't even been to state until last year. So we're still cool.
-Seeing as marching band is done with, Concert Band is up. For our holiday concert we have such classics as Sholom Aleichem and A Christmas Festival, along with such actual classics as Hallelujah Chorus (from The Messiah) and Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring. I haven't had a bunch of time to practice. I shall get on that this weekend. As well as my playing test (which I just have to record for Mr Canter on a tape).
-Moving Right Along
-We've had an abnormally warm fall this year. All up until two days ago, when I went outside, I felt like I was stepping into a warm September day, not anything like November. But then a highly organized and efficient straight line of storms made a sweep of the whole country, extending all the way from Mississippi or so up to Michigan or thereabouts, and towing a cold front behind them. As a result, we had some reasonably heavy sleet before the line had entirely gotten past us, and the next morning was below freezing. Today, a little puddle that always collects in a little depression on one of the school's sidewalks was frozen until at least ten o'clock. So, winter is finally getting its act together and coming off its stylish vacation in Australia to start working up here, and to that I say, "About time."
-We got report cards recently, and I'm pleased to tell you today that I've just signed legislation outlawing Russia forever. We begin bombing in five minutes. (Have you never heard that Reagan outtake?) Ah, I have strayed a bit. What I mean is that Mom says I got 2 B's and the rest A's. I haven't actually seen it myself, because Mom didn't actually show it to me, but that's what she says. One of them, I believe, is in English, and since that's a semester class I'm not exempt from the midterm. Crap! I couldn't say exactly what caused me to get a B in English (If that's where it was)--I seem to recall getting an A on everything she handed back. AP history I didn't really expect to get an A in, and no, that's not why I didn't--it's genuinely hard, and involves memorizing way too much stuff to be legal. But it's okay. Mr Volz told us that even you, BJ, had your bad moments. (He was saying that you can get a bad test grade and then get a 5 on the AP test, and that there was no doubt from the beginning of the year that the person in question was going to get a 5, and I figured it had to have been you, and he said yeah.) On the other hand, I have to take that midterm too. But the rest of that week is free & clear--almost like an extension of my winter break! I think. Is that how it's going to play out? Ah, I'll check it out later.
-Steven Hackmann, in charge of Youth Groups, has just now called and generously offered to let me rake the leaves of some woman from the church on Saturday morning at 0930, so I suppose I will.
-There's some other stupid band thing on Sunday-- the "rededication" of the PAC. I very much do not want to go. I don't know that I will. I've had enough with band functions. Mr Canter ought surely to have sensed that from everyone in the band by now.
-If I were hungry right now, I'd want some chili. Maybe later I will be.
-First and most importantly, marching band season is over. And about time! We went to State in Columbus on November 4th. The high school hosting it was the size of a modest college. We were the first band to perform. Before going, we stood behind the field idling for twenty minutes while the judges combed their hair and read the comics. ("Hey, Mary Worth is good today.") Then we did our show just like we'd been trained to since July--excellently. Unfortunately, the judges didn't think it was quite so good. Perhaps because we went on first and if they'd given us a One they'd have had to give one to everyone else, or perhaps because our tone was off because of our nice break behind the field, or perhaps because they had a little indigestion and were in a bad mood, they gave us a Two. Well, a Two at State isn't so bad. Not the best, but nothing to sneeze at. Look at it this way: we hadn't even been to state until last year. So we're still cool.
-Seeing as marching band is done with, Concert Band is up. For our holiday concert we have such classics as Sholom Aleichem and A Christmas Festival, along with such actual classics as Hallelujah Chorus (from The Messiah) and Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring. I haven't had a bunch of time to practice. I shall get on that this weekend. As well as my playing test (which I just have to record for Mr Canter on a tape).
-Moving Right Along
-We've had an abnormally warm fall this year. All up until two days ago, when I went outside, I felt like I was stepping into a warm September day, not anything like November. But then a highly organized and efficient straight line of storms made a sweep of the whole country, extending all the way from Mississippi or so up to Michigan or thereabouts, and towing a cold front behind them. As a result, we had some reasonably heavy sleet before the line had entirely gotten past us, and the next morning was below freezing. Today, a little puddle that always collects in a little depression on one of the school's sidewalks was frozen until at least ten o'clock. So, winter is finally getting its act together and coming off its stylish vacation in Australia to start working up here, and to that I say, "About time."
-We got report cards recently, and I'm pleased to tell you today that I've just signed legislation outlawing Russia forever. We begin bombing in five minutes. (Have you never heard that Reagan outtake?) Ah, I have strayed a bit. What I mean is that Mom says I got 2 B's and the rest A's. I haven't actually seen it myself, because Mom didn't actually show it to me, but that's what she says. One of them, I believe, is in English, and since that's a semester class I'm not exempt from the midterm. Crap! I couldn't say exactly what caused me to get a B in English (If that's where it was)--I seem to recall getting an A on everything she handed back. AP history I didn't really expect to get an A in, and no, that's not why I didn't--it's genuinely hard, and involves memorizing way too much stuff to be legal. But it's okay. Mr Volz told us that even you, BJ, had your bad moments. (He was saying that you can get a bad test grade and then get a 5 on the AP test, and that there was no doubt from the beginning of the year that the person in question was going to get a 5, and I figured it had to have been you, and he said yeah.) On the other hand, I have to take that midterm too. But the rest of that week is free & clear--almost like an extension of my winter break! I think. Is that how it's going to play out? Ah, I'll check it out later.
-Steven Hackmann, in charge of Youth Groups, has just now called and generously offered to let me rake the leaves of some woman from the church on Saturday morning at 0930, so I suppose I will.
-There's some other stupid band thing on Sunday-- the "rededication" of the PAC. I very much do not want to go. I don't know that I will. I've had enough with band functions. Mr Canter ought surely to have sensed that from everyone in the band by now.
-If I were hungry right now, I'd want some chili. Maybe later I will be.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Food for thought
Mrs Lani's real name is Roselani Nowicki. The first name is Hawaiian; the last name is Polish. The "MRS. LANI" sign in her bus is in a Chinese-style font. She defies classification.
It's been going about normal. We went to two more contests and Qualified two more times. Or has it only been one contest? I'm not prepared for this entry, really. I just found out what Mrs Lani's name was and thought I'd say so on my blog, so I wasn't planning much else.
It's getting to be fall here in Ohio. I read that we here have even more colors than those guys up in New England. However, I also read Bill Bryson's article about New England falls, where he asserts that they're the best not only because they have so many colors, but because the background is exceptional--nice towns and pretty churches--and the air is superb. Regardless either way, I have to spend my fall in Ohio, so I might as well enjoy it as I can. A while ago, I tried to go online and find a guide to when each tree changes colors, what color it changes to, and so on. There was nothing available. Well dang it, I thought, I guess I'll just have to make my own. But not this year, because fall has already started. I'm going to learn stuff about trees starting now, and then I'll be better prepared to record the changing of the seasons when next autumn rolls around. Of course, I could use some help. I'm probably not going to be able to go visit one of every species of trees every day to see if it's changed or not--in fact, I certainly won't. This is where you come in. If, as you watch that tree in your yard change next year, you were to casually note what species it is, what color you'd say it just changed, and the date, and send that information on over to me, I would be quite pleased. This sounds like a fun kind of project. I'll do it every year, of course, so I can get average dates, not just dates for one specific year... I'll have charts, I'll have... other stuff. Don't you agree that it's a noble endeavor?
-I don't have too much else to say. Uh, I've been eating a lot of Hot Pockets, because Mom keeps buying them, and they're not too bad. And I've been working on Cyril. Gettin' better. And for our latest, last game we all dressed up in Halloween costumes, so I dressed up as Neo. So, uh, that's all for today.
It's been going about normal. We went to two more contests and Qualified two more times. Or has it only been one contest? I'm not prepared for this entry, really. I just found out what Mrs Lani's name was and thought I'd say so on my blog, so I wasn't planning much else.
It's getting to be fall here in Ohio. I read that we here have even more colors than those guys up in New England. However, I also read Bill Bryson's article about New England falls, where he asserts that they're the best not only because they have so many colors, but because the background is exceptional--nice towns and pretty churches--and the air is superb. Regardless either way, I have to spend my fall in Ohio, so I might as well enjoy it as I can. A while ago, I tried to go online and find a guide to when each tree changes colors, what color it changes to, and so on. There was nothing available. Well dang it, I thought, I guess I'll just have to make my own. But not this year, because fall has already started. I'm going to learn stuff about trees starting now, and then I'll be better prepared to record the changing of the seasons when next autumn rolls around. Of course, I could use some help. I'm probably not going to be able to go visit one of every species of trees every day to see if it's changed or not--in fact, I certainly won't. This is where you come in. If, as you watch that tree in your yard change next year, you were to casually note what species it is, what color you'd say it just changed, and the date, and send that information on over to me, I would be quite pleased. This sounds like a fun kind of project. I'll do it every year, of course, so I can get average dates, not just dates for one specific year... I'll have charts, I'll have... other stuff. Don't you agree that it's a noble endeavor?
-I don't have too much else to say. Uh, I've been eating a lot of Hot Pockets, because Mom keeps buying them, and they're not too bad. And I've been working on Cyril. Gettin' better. And for our latest, last game we all dressed up in Halloween costumes, so I dressed up as Neo. So, uh, that's all for today.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Grape-Nuts
Yesterday, the only breakfast in the house was a box of Grape-Nuts. I had wanted to try Grape-Nuts for a while. That guy on the commercial, and occasionally people I had seen, looked to think it tasted pretty good. So I poured myself half a bowl as a trial. Then I took a bite.
-I figured it would taste like one of two extremes: either like sawdust or like a delicious bowl of fruit. Well, what I discovered is that it doesn't taste like anything whatsoever. That simple: no taste at all. Thus, the texture makes or breaks whether the cereal is tolerable. And the texture, I decided, was like a mouthful of pebbles. So here I was, with a bowl of gravel that I couldn't possibly eat. In the interest of not being wasteful, I drank just the milk from it, and then threw it out. Yes, I know there are starving kids in Africa, but I'm confident they wouldn't have liked them either.
-And that brings us to the starving kids in Africa. Today in history class, Mr Volz told us to get out a sheet of looseleaf and start writing a letter to a person about our age in Tanzania. He gave us a little background on Tanzania: apparently, it's on the east coast of Africa. And judging from the pictures he sent around, it's also very hot, boring, and hot. There does seem to be starvation, too: one picture showed a kid looking a lot like shrink-wrapped bones. I thought, "That really sucks." I wrote a letter answering the four prompts on the board
1) Who am I?
2) What is a typical day like for me?
3) What would I like to see changed in the world by the time I grow up?
4) How can I help make this happen?
I said I had big hair and I'd like to see the environment less dirty, and to that end I never litter, I recycle whenever possible, and I almost always go places by bike. For my typical day, I described a school day, and then said that when I get home I either go to Warder Park, read a book, or work on my font Cyril.
-And that of course brings us to Cyril. I've made all the letters now. That doesn't mean I'm finished--far from it. Now that I've made all the letters, it goes up for critique, to make sure it's the best it possibly can be. Then I make an Italic. After that I make a bold and a bold italic. And of course I'm making all the Russian bells and whistles, which means about seventy characters, even though only 33 or so are used in regular Russian. The rest are for things like ancient texts and Church Slavonic, when they hadn't whittled the alphabet down quite so far yet. I realize that nobody will ever use these, most likely, but I decided that if I'm going to name the font Cyril I should really include the most of the Cyrillic alphabet I can. (Cyrillic is the name for the Russian alphabet, named after a St Cyril who adapted the Greek alphabet to Russian.) In the meantime, if you want to see a bunch of people talking about beziers, x-heights, encoding, boumas, and hinting, and be astounded when I understand almost all of it, tune in to http://typophile.com/node/12860 and don't say I didn't warn you.
-I figured it would taste like one of two extremes: either like sawdust or like a delicious bowl of fruit. Well, what I discovered is that it doesn't taste like anything whatsoever. That simple: no taste at all. Thus, the texture makes or breaks whether the cereal is tolerable. And the texture, I decided, was like a mouthful of pebbles. So here I was, with a bowl of gravel that I couldn't possibly eat. In the interest of not being wasteful, I drank just the milk from it, and then threw it out. Yes, I know there are starving kids in Africa, but I'm confident they wouldn't have liked them either.
-And that brings us to the starving kids in Africa. Today in history class, Mr Volz told us to get out a sheet of looseleaf and start writing a letter to a person about our age in Tanzania. He gave us a little background on Tanzania: apparently, it's on the east coast of Africa. And judging from the pictures he sent around, it's also very hot, boring, and hot. There does seem to be starvation, too: one picture showed a kid looking a lot like shrink-wrapped bones. I thought, "That really sucks." I wrote a letter answering the four prompts on the board
1) Who am I?
2) What is a typical day like for me?
3) What would I like to see changed in the world by the time I grow up?
4) How can I help make this happen?
I said I had big hair and I'd like to see the environment less dirty, and to that end I never litter, I recycle whenever possible, and I almost always go places by bike. For my typical day, I described a school day, and then said that when I get home I either go to Warder Park, read a book, or work on my font Cyril.
-And that of course brings us to Cyril. I've made all the letters now. That doesn't mean I'm finished--far from it. Now that I've made all the letters, it goes up for critique, to make sure it's the best it possibly can be. Then I make an Italic. After that I make a bold and a bold italic. And of course I'm making all the Russian bells and whistles, which means about seventy characters, even though only 33 or so are used in regular Russian. The rest are for things like ancient texts and Church Slavonic, when they hadn't whittled the alphabet down quite so far yet. I realize that nobody will ever use these, most likely, but I decided that if I'm going to name the font Cyril I should really include the most of the Cyrillic alphabet I can. (Cyrillic is the name for the Russian alphabet, named after a St Cyril who adapted the Greek alphabet to Russian.) In the meantime, if you want to see a bunch of people talking about beziers, x-heights, encoding, boumas, and hinting, and be astounded when I understand almost all of it, tune in to http://typophile.com/node/12860 and don't say I didn't warn you.
Sunday, October 2, 2005
The Suspense
Hi, BJ. Hi, everyone. How's it going? Long time no see.
Sorry I didn't write anything. It's because junior year is quite the busy year. I've had barely any time to write. When I did have time to write, I usually used it on working on my font instead. In fact, Cyril is coming along very well. It's so much better than that version of it that I posted under critique on that one website. It's also getting very complete. Matt, as soon as I get done with it, I'll e-mail you the new version. And then, then I get to start working on the italic. When I haven't been working on the font or busy with school stuff... band, homework... I guess those are the times when I ought to have posted. But, I forgot about the blog at those particular times.
-As I've mentioned, this month has been busy. Band is a leading factor. Every Friday a game, and for the last three Saturdays there's been a competition that took up the entire day. Oh, these competitions... oh, these competitions. A typical competition involves getting to the school at about 1430, then marching in unfailingly hot weather for an hour. Then Mr Canter lets us go back into the band room and usually feeds us; this food break is an hour or so long. Once we've all finished eating and changing into Chafe Brand Band Pants, which go up to your armpits and hang off your shoulders by suspenders, we siphon ourselves onto the buses. Of course they're hot. They cool down some as we ride to another school somewhere, which takes at least 45 minutes, though the first two of the three trips we've taken so far took upwards of two hours. Bored, we tumble off the buses to start waiting for our practice area to clear out. From there we play some parts of the show, tune, and start accumulating into a block of bandmembers, whence we walk up to the area behind the field. There, we watch while another band finishes marching, and then we get into the stadium to start things going. We herd to about the fifty yard line, depending on where we are in the form, and stand at Parade Rest, and then some airheaded guy announces, "Finneytown Band, you may begin your preplacement/warmup." So we do. Next we all march onto the field. Only when we've all gotten onto the field does the announcer say, "You may take the field for your OMEA adjudicated performance," which always seemed peculiar to me.
-Now, during the show, the emotions are so varied that it's impossible to just generalize a typical show experience: it's different from person to person, and competition to competition. Usually there's plenty of tension. Sometimes there's confidence, sometimes nerves. But at any rate, what mood someone's in doesn't matter to the competition, so we put it on the back burner and just march. That's the way it has to be done. Our show is pretty exciting this year and everyone's gotten pretty well into it. So we do well.
-Once we get off the field we filter into a holding area somewhere, where Mr Canter stands on something (yesterday, a tractor tire) and briefs us on how we did. Then, depending on how many bands are left, we either change or don't, and go to the stands to let the competition finish out and the awards to be announced. This year we've done very well as comes to awards. At our first competition we swept the board for Class B bands and got third place for the whole competition, even beating out a AA band and all the A's; at our second one we didn't get many awards, and we were feeling pretty rotten when suddenly the guy announced we were going to State--afterwards we found out that the scores were all within about three points of each other, and that's why everyone got a little bit of everything and three of the four bands qualified for State--; and at our htird competition, yesterday, we marched even better, swept the board again--though we didn't get third place, because judges always seem to favor AA bands and Lakota East was here with all 300 of their members, and plus there were more bands than at the other one--and qualified again. Qualifying again only means that you haven't deteriorated in quality since last competition: you can't go to State twice.
-Finally we load the buses, drive home, and scatter to our respective houses. Usually that's at around 1 am. Yeah.
-In other news, junior year has been going So Far So Good, though I need to keep my nose at that grindstone and work like there ain't no more working... or something. I have a study hall half a year. That really grates me. And I'm only in one AP. Matt's in three. Rosie, three, and one last year. I'm slipping into the "underachiever" file. I suppose I'll just have to take a lot of APs next year. I figured out that there are seven bells that could all fit together, all APs. Matt said, "If you survive, you'll be valedictorian. And if you get all A's. If you don't, you'll just be dead." I don't know if I'll take AP Chem. Could be, could not. Same with Econ. I think physically one of those two won't even fit.
-Mr Lorenz is turning the ignition for Academic team on the 10th, and we'll be kept idling and warming up until the first competition, which is on the Whatth of Whentember. BJ! You're not here this year! What are we going to do? Now when we don't know the answer, nobody will be here to helpfully let us know it's Byron!
-I leave you with this: can you snap triplets with one hand and eighth notes with the other? Hint: it sounds like "Carol of the Bells".
Sorry I didn't write anything. It's because junior year is quite the busy year. I've had barely any time to write. When I did have time to write, I usually used it on working on my font instead. In fact, Cyril is coming along very well. It's so much better than that version of it that I posted under critique on that one website. It's also getting very complete. Matt, as soon as I get done with it, I'll e-mail you the new version. And then, then I get to start working on the italic. When I haven't been working on the font or busy with school stuff... band, homework... I guess those are the times when I ought to have posted. But, I forgot about the blog at those particular times.
-As I've mentioned, this month has been busy. Band is a leading factor. Every Friday a game, and for the last three Saturdays there's been a competition that took up the entire day. Oh, these competitions... oh, these competitions. A typical competition involves getting to the school at about 1430, then marching in unfailingly hot weather for an hour. Then Mr Canter lets us go back into the band room and usually feeds us; this food break is an hour or so long. Once we've all finished eating and changing into Chafe Brand Band Pants, which go up to your armpits and hang off your shoulders by suspenders, we siphon ourselves onto the buses. Of course they're hot. They cool down some as we ride to another school somewhere, which takes at least 45 minutes, though the first two of the three trips we've taken so far took upwards of two hours. Bored, we tumble off the buses to start waiting for our practice area to clear out. From there we play some parts of the show, tune, and start accumulating into a block of bandmembers, whence we walk up to the area behind the field. There, we watch while another band finishes marching, and then we get into the stadium to start things going. We herd to about the fifty yard line, depending on where we are in the form, and stand at Parade Rest, and then some airheaded guy announces, "Finneytown Band, you may begin your preplacement/warmup." So we do. Next we all march onto the field. Only when we've all gotten onto the field does the announcer say, "You may take the field for your OMEA adjudicated performance," which always seemed peculiar to me.
-Now, during the show, the emotions are so varied that it's impossible to just generalize a typical show experience: it's different from person to person, and competition to competition. Usually there's plenty of tension. Sometimes there's confidence, sometimes nerves. But at any rate, what mood someone's in doesn't matter to the competition, so we put it on the back burner and just march. That's the way it has to be done. Our show is pretty exciting this year and everyone's gotten pretty well into it. So we do well.
-Once we get off the field we filter into a holding area somewhere, where Mr Canter stands on something (yesterday, a tractor tire) and briefs us on how we did. Then, depending on how many bands are left, we either change or don't, and go to the stands to let the competition finish out and the awards to be announced. This year we've done very well as comes to awards. At our first competition we swept the board for Class B bands and got third place for the whole competition, even beating out a AA band and all the A's; at our second one we didn't get many awards, and we were feeling pretty rotten when suddenly the guy announced we were going to State--afterwards we found out that the scores were all within about three points of each other, and that's why everyone got a little bit of everything and three of the four bands qualified for State--; and at our htird competition, yesterday, we marched even better, swept the board again--though we didn't get third place, because judges always seem to favor AA bands and Lakota East was here with all 300 of their members, and plus there were more bands than at the other one--and qualified again. Qualifying again only means that you haven't deteriorated in quality since last competition: you can't go to State twice.
-Finally we load the buses, drive home, and scatter to our respective houses. Usually that's at around 1 am. Yeah.
-In other news, junior year has been going So Far So Good, though I need to keep my nose at that grindstone and work like there ain't no more working... or something. I have a study hall half a year. That really grates me. And I'm only in one AP. Matt's in three. Rosie, three, and one last year. I'm slipping into the "underachiever" file. I suppose I'll just have to take a lot of APs next year. I figured out that there are seven bells that could all fit together, all APs. Matt said, "If you survive, you'll be valedictorian. And if you get all A's. If you don't, you'll just be dead." I don't know if I'll take AP Chem. Could be, could not. Same with Econ. I think physically one of those two won't even fit.
-Mr Lorenz is turning the ignition for Academic team on the 10th, and we'll be kept idling and warming up until the first competition, which is on the Whatth of Whentember. BJ! You're not here this year! What are we going to do? Now when we don't know the answer, nobody will be here to helpfully let us know it's Byron!
-I leave you with this: can you snap triplets with one hand and eighth notes with the other? Hint: it sounds like "Carol of the Bells".
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Now that school has started
I got my schedule for the year the night before school started last Wednesday. I was disappointed to find I had a study hall fourth bell. Other than gym and B&W/digital photography (which I have because it was one of only three choices for that bell when I was making choices last spring), all my classes seemed pretty good.
-I woke up at o550 on accident (meaning for 0600, but my clocks wer ten minutes ahead somehow) and found that I didn't need half that time to get ready, so I sat around; I might have even gone back to sleep. Then I biked on up to the school.
-Band came first, and it was just like I remembered X-periods being: tired. Next came physics. Mr Barney, to impress us, did some tricks with an electromagnet and also an interesting one where he put rosin on his fingers and swiped them down a six-foot aluminum pole to make a noise sort of like the world's loudest dog whistle, except low enough that instead of being inaudible it only made you bleed through the ears.
-Gym was stupid; Creutz (Mr Creutzinger) gave us a bunch of forms to sign and told us what the rules were this year. Then came AP American History with Mr Volz. He has long hair and told us he had a sense of humor. When people tell you they have a sense of humor they usually don't have a spectacular one.
-In study hall I read the book I had, A Sand County Almanac (and Sketches Here and There). I like that book. Then I had Advanced Math Concepts with Mrs Otten, who said we were free to talk without raising our hands. Lunch was halfway through that bell; I had pizza. I finished math and then went to English. Mrs Kopke gave us a story to read on the very first night. I've heard that's more or less typical of how English 11 Accelerated goes. And finally I had Spanish IV with Mrs Rudolph, who almost looks like a student. She's short and about 21. After Spanish school let out.
-This year I have three classes with Aaron, compared to just English last year. I'm also with Rosie, Matt, and Kristen more than last year. I've tried to get my study hall fourth bell changed to Community Service, which would look good on a college application, but Mr Volz (who's in charge of that too) told me he already has 36 students in fourth bell and may have to eject some of them into study hall. He never explicitly told me no, so I'll keep a little bit of hope, but it's pretty dim.
-This year there's a new policy in our school: everyone has to tuck their shirts in. They say it's to promote common decency and keep people from concealing weapons. That's a bunch of hooey. Common decency? Tucking shirts in isn't common. And who are they to say just what Common Decency is anyhow? Not many people are tucking their shirts in, but at the class meeting today we found out that if everyone starts doing it they might consider repealing the rule. Also at the class meeting Aaron asked if we could start using mesh bookbags, as opposed to no bookbags, to carry stuff around to classes. As it is I have to carry a toppling twenty-pound stack of binders and textbooks and folders to each class until sixth bell. It doesn't take much to figure that's not quite right.
-This morning I was wearing a "Think Ahead" shirt that my mom ordered a few days ago and Mr Canter noticed it. When he did the daily announcements he said, "First of all, I want you all to look at Neo's shirt." (I'm called Neo in band, for obscure reasons.) "I think we all need to get a shirt like that."
-"I sell 'em," I said peppily.
-"Oh do you?" he said. He didn't ask me for the website name, possibly because I didn't have a chance to tell him I sold them on a website, but in Physics, Oh Who Was It asked me about it and I gave her the address. I'll post it here again too, because by now that one post is far buried. I also think I'll make another shirt today.
Cheers,
Myself
-I woke up at o550 on accident (meaning for 0600, but my clocks wer ten minutes ahead somehow) and found that I didn't need half that time to get ready, so I sat around; I might have even gone back to sleep. Then I biked on up to the school.
-Band came first, and it was just like I remembered X-periods being: tired. Next came physics. Mr Barney, to impress us, did some tricks with an electromagnet and also an interesting one where he put rosin on his fingers and swiped them down a six-foot aluminum pole to make a noise sort of like the world's loudest dog whistle, except low enough that instead of being inaudible it only made you bleed through the ears.
-Gym was stupid; Creutz (Mr Creutzinger) gave us a bunch of forms to sign and told us what the rules were this year. Then came AP American History with Mr Volz. He has long hair and told us he had a sense of humor. When people tell you they have a sense of humor they usually don't have a spectacular one.
-In study hall I read the book I had, A Sand County Almanac (and Sketches Here and There). I like that book. Then I had Advanced Math Concepts with Mrs Otten, who said we were free to talk without raising our hands. Lunch was halfway through that bell; I had pizza. I finished math and then went to English. Mrs Kopke gave us a story to read on the very first night. I've heard that's more or less typical of how English 11 Accelerated goes. And finally I had Spanish IV with Mrs Rudolph, who almost looks like a student. She's short and about 21. After Spanish school let out.
-This year I have three classes with Aaron, compared to just English last year. I'm also with Rosie, Matt, and Kristen more than last year. I've tried to get my study hall fourth bell changed to Community Service, which would look good on a college application, but Mr Volz (who's in charge of that too) told me he already has 36 students in fourth bell and may have to eject some of them into study hall. He never explicitly told me no, so I'll keep a little bit of hope, but it's pretty dim.
-This year there's a new policy in our school: everyone has to tuck their shirts in. They say it's to promote common decency and keep people from concealing weapons. That's a bunch of hooey. Common decency? Tucking shirts in isn't common. And who are they to say just what Common Decency is anyhow? Not many people are tucking their shirts in, but at the class meeting today we found out that if everyone starts doing it they might consider repealing the rule. Also at the class meeting Aaron asked if we could start using mesh bookbags, as opposed to no bookbags, to carry stuff around to classes. As it is I have to carry a toppling twenty-pound stack of binders and textbooks and folders to each class until sixth bell. It doesn't take much to figure that's not quite right.
-This morning I was wearing a "Think Ahead" shirt that my mom ordered a few days ago and Mr Canter noticed it. When he did the daily announcements he said, "First of all, I want you all to look at Neo's shirt." (I'm called Neo in band, for obscure reasons.) "I think we all need to get a shirt like that."
-"I sell 'em," I said peppily.
-"Oh do you?" he said. He didn't ask me for the website name, possibly because I didn't have a chance to tell him I sold them on a website, but in Physics, Oh Who Was It asked me about it and I gave her the address. I'll post it here again too, because by now that one post is far buried. I also think I'll make another shirt today.
Cheers,
Myself
Monday, August 22, 2005
School
My summer has shrunk to the size of a regular old day off. All there is left of it is tomorrow. And I only got one creekwalk in. I wanted to take one today, but then I realized I had band practice. The one I got was on Friday or Saturday. I don't remember which. I was about to go somewhere and was putting on my shoes when Aaron called me. He asked if I wanted to go creeking. I decided creekwalking was more important than where I was going and biked up to his house to show him some maps.
-I had figured we'd either go to the Railroad (doubted it even then) or on a creekwalk I haven't done before, the school to Winton Woods. But Aaron surprised me by telling me of a different creek he knew, one that emanated from a place called Melody Park right down a street from his house. I checked my trusty topography sources and saw that it joined up with the creek behind the school to got to Winton Woods as well. Since Aaron's printer wouldn't work, I freehanded a little map, and we had a few cups of water, and we left his house.
-I didn't know what Melody Park might look like. And as we walked down Melody Lane, which ended in a cul-de-sac a hundred yards from where it started, I didn't even see where it might be. Then when we got to the end I noticed there was a little sidewalk running between two houses. I discovered that the sidewalk runs under a few trees and then turns into a shallow staircase going down a very tall hill to a field lined with tall grass hiding the creek. The creek was different from other creeks, but then all creeks are. It had a lot of rocks around, good for stepping on, and it ran right behind a bunch of backyards. There was almost no room for walking on either shore: there was a vertical bank and then a very thick forest. Luckily the rocks were there for a lot of the time. When they weren't we had to either go through the forest or try to cling to the bank, sometimes by using trees to hold onto. One time while moving down a shore and hanging onto trees one after another, leaning out backwards over the creek, I fell in and dunked my shoes, but other than that we were mainly successful. We named a few places along the way. A tree across the creek from the yard of a guy who kept talking on his cell phone was "Stop Here and Rest a Moment", and a log somewhere farther along was "Chillin' Log". Right around Chillin' Log I found a black plastic A. I gave it to Aaron. And we made jokes, and that sort of stuff. You know, the kind of stuff you do with friends.
-The creek we were on sideswipes Daly Road, and we had started hearing traffic, but the traffic wasn't coming from the right angle to be Daly. Sure enough, when we came up it was Compton, which I then realized we hadn't crossed yet. We did then, and found the creek again running under the Jerome W Sirk bridge. To the left of the bridge it forked away, but we took the right fork and kept on going. The creek was a little wider here and the bank was a little flatter. A while further on the woods at the left bank vanished and as I stood on the other bank, on the edge of what appeared to be a bridge that was demolished, I saw across the creek what looked like some kind of religious building--a pyramid with about twenty sides, and inflated a little so it was convex. Then I looked through the open doorway and realized it was a salt storage dome. While I stood there a green county pickup truck wandered aimlessly there. Aaron caught up and we took advantage of the road that had once crossed the creek on the now-defunct bridge. It was paved with gravel and it ran alongside the creek. It ended at a road. The road was Compton.
-And here I figured we were farther along than that. Across the street was a condo complex called Bridgecreek, featuring the creek running under a nice bridge. To the right was Cherryblossom. I checked my freehand map again and couldn't figure out where we might be. Aaron decided we must've made a wrong turn at the Jerome W Sirk bridge so far back, and rather than keep going we decided to follow Cherryblossom back to his neighborhood. In retrospect it was probably a good thing we stopped there, since we were both probably somewhere close to dehydrated. We hadn't brought bottles, because there weren't any handy. Cherryblossom turned out to end right near Skyline Chili, so we stopped there and with the sixteen dollars we had together bought a modest but filling meal and drank a lot of free refills. We also tried to visit BJ, but he wasn't home so we walked back to Aaron's, stopping at Andy Hughes's place along the way.
-Yesterday Dad took me to bigg's and we bought some school supplies--mainly notebooks and folders. I want to go to Office Depot and get some more #3 Pencils, because I'm running out. I bought, like, five dozen one time about three years ago and they've lasted me until now.
-So school starts on Wednesday. Bright and early at 0720 for us band kids. I think the first day of school should start at noon. And while I'm at it, I also don't think you should have to go to school on your birthday. Oh, and I can't wait for winter. Mrs Rielac up the street says this one's probably going to be a hard one, judging by how there are already berries on her magnolia and acorns on the ground. That means more snow, and thus more snow days!
-I had figured we'd either go to the Railroad (doubted it even then) or on a creekwalk I haven't done before, the school to Winton Woods. But Aaron surprised me by telling me of a different creek he knew, one that emanated from a place called Melody Park right down a street from his house. I checked my trusty topography sources and saw that it joined up with the creek behind the school to got to Winton Woods as well. Since Aaron's printer wouldn't work, I freehanded a little map, and we had a few cups of water, and we left his house.
-I didn't know what Melody Park might look like. And as we walked down Melody Lane, which ended in a cul-de-sac a hundred yards from where it started, I didn't even see where it might be. Then when we got to the end I noticed there was a little sidewalk running between two houses. I discovered that the sidewalk runs under a few trees and then turns into a shallow staircase going down a very tall hill to a field lined with tall grass hiding the creek. The creek was different from other creeks, but then all creeks are. It had a lot of rocks around, good for stepping on, and it ran right behind a bunch of backyards. There was almost no room for walking on either shore: there was a vertical bank and then a very thick forest. Luckily the rocks were there for a lot of the time. When they weren't we had to either go through the forest or try to cling to the bank, sometimes by using trees to hold onto. One time while moving down a shore and hanging onto trees one after another, leaning out backwards over the creek, I fell in and dunked my shoes, but other than that we were mainly successful. We named a few places along the way. A tree across the creek from the yard of a guy who kept talking on his cell phone was "Stop Here and Rest a Moment", and a log somewhere farther along was "Chillin' Log". Right around Chillin' Log I found a black plastic A. I gave it to Aaron. And we made jokes, and that sort of stuff. You know, the kind of stuff you do with friends.
-The creek we were on sideswipes Daly Road, and we had started hearing traffic, but the traffic wasn't coming from the right angle to be Daly. Sure enough, when we came up it was Compton, which I then realized we hadn't crossed yet. We did then, and found the creek again running under the Jerome W Sirk bridge. To the left of the bridge it forked away, but we took the right fork and kept on going. The creek was a little wider here and the bank was a little flatter. A while further on the woods at the left bank vanished and as I stood on the other bank, on the edge of what appeared to be a bridge that was demolished, I saw across the creek what looked like some kind of religious building--a pyramid with about twenty sides, and inflated a little so it was convex. Then I looked through the open doorway and realized it was a salt storage dome. While I stood there a green county pickup truck wandered aimlessly there. Aaron caught up and we took advantage of the road that had once crossed the creek on the now-defunct bridge. It was paved with gravel and it ran alongside the creek. It ended at a road. The road was Compton.
-And here I figured we were farther along than that. Across the street was a condo complex called Bridgecreek, featuring the creek running under a nice bridge. To the right was Cherryblossom. I checked my freehand map again and couldn't figure out where we might be. Aaron decided we must've made a wrong turn at the Jerome W Sirk bridge so far back, and rather than keep going we decided to follow Cherryblossom back to his neighborhood. In retrospect it was probably a good thing we stopped there, since we were both probably somewhere close to dehydrated. We hadn't brought bottles, because there weren't any handy. Cherryblossom turned out to end right near Skyline Chili, so we stopped there and with the sixteen dollars we had together bought a modest but filling meal and drank a lot of free refills. We also tried to visit BJ, but he wasn't home so we walked back to Aaron's, stopping at Andy Hughes's place along the way.
-Yesterday Dad took me to bigg's and we bought some school supplies--mainly notebooks and folders. I want to go to Office Depot and get some more #3 Pencils, because I'm running out. I bought, like, five dozen one time about three years ago and they've lasted me until now.
-So school starts on Wednesday. Bright and early at 0720 for us band kids. I think the first day of school should start at noon. And while I'm at it, I also don't think you should have to go to school on your birthday. Oh, and I can't wait for winter. Mrs Rielac up the street says this one's probably going to be a hard one, judging by how there are already berries on her magnolia and acorns on the ground. That means more snow, and thus more snow days!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
The Lawnmower Man
True story:
-My uncle Dan and aunt Tracy recently moved. Before they did they had a neighbor who liked to run his riding mower. All the time they would hear his mower going. He wasn't mowing his lawn. He actually had the mower parked there on his patio, and he was sitting on it, letting it run. Occasionally he would have a few beers.
-This is completely irrelevant, but I remembered it a minute ago and decided I'd write about it.
-My uncle Dan and aunt Tracy recently moved. Before they did they had a neighbor who liked to run his riding mower. All the time they would hear his mower going. He wasn't mowing his lawn. He actually had the mower parked there on his patio, and he was sitting on it, letting it run. Occasionally he would have a few beers.
-This is completely irrelevant, but I remembered it a minute ago and decided I'd write about it.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Café Press.
I am going to elaborate on CaféPress here. It is a website that is very clever in concept. You upload your design to them, and choose what shirt it would be best on. Then, when someone orders that shirt, they make it for them and charge them. The price is whatever you want it to be, as long as it's at or above CP's base price, which is usually somewhere like $12 to $14. You mark it up however much you want.
-This is very great. But there are a few problems. The first one is that they don't offer any dark colors, as they can't figure out how to put light-colored ink on a dark-colored shirt. They only offer four colors of shirt: white, light green, gray, and pink. I'd say that severely limits creativity.
-The next problem is that they put limits on you. They offer about fifteen kinds of shirts, including the pink, gray, and green ones. But you can only sell each kind of shirt with one design on it. So if you put, say, "Design A" on a green shirt, and you have also "Design B" that you want to put on a green shirt, you can't do it UNLESS! you upgrade to a "Premium Shop" for $5 a year. That's why I haven't yet put out any more than two designs. I've only found two designs that work with the kind of shirts they're offering.
-And to make things worse, I've hit on a problem that not many other people have. One of my images (One that says "Caution: Do Not Read This Shirt" and has a red triangle with a black exclamation point in it), which I uploaded to the site but had kept in my "Image Basket" until I could find a good shirt for it, seems to violate a copyright. That's what was in the first letter they sent me. It was a very cheerful letter that was careful not to be accusative, so that's all good. But it still supposedly violated someone's copyright. I asked them whose. They promptly sent me another letter telling me that it was the copyright of one Jim Vitello.
-I researched Jim Vitello. He owns an online shop. The shop sells Scratch-'n'Sniff underwear. He markets it under the brand Caution, with an exclamation point in a triangle, a lot like mine. His website doesn't actually appear to sell anything, though. What it looks like has happened is that he registered the word "Caution" for a Registered Trademark with the U.S. Patent office for the sole purpose of cruising CaféPress and pointing out to other people trying to use the word "Caution" that he owns the trademark. Because when I researched him, I found an entire message board consisting of people who had been gotten by the Caution Guy. Most of them were trying to sell stuff on CaféPress that, blindingly obviously, had nothing whatsoever to do with his Scratch-'n'-Sniff underwear (if he even makes it at all). Stuff like my T-shirt. Every time he finds something he writes to CP--I can see him staring at his keyboard in the dark, doing a little hunt and peck with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth--and tells them BOOP, BOOP he's found someone trying to infringe on his trademark. Then, because CP is afraid of him suing them, they quickly email a paranoid letter to the offending innocent. I wrote CP a letter back once I found out what this guy was about. I said, yes, my shirt was pretty similar to his logo and that I would change it, maybe taking out the exclamation point, but that the real issue was that this guy was a lunatic, and that they needed to get a backbone and do something about him. I don't know if they will, but they obviously should.
-Anyhow, I'm going to write a description for that "Think Ahead" shirt, because I haven't yet, and then maybe put some of my other designs onto the different variations of white shirt they offer (fitted, organic, economy...). But I don't think I'll stick around with CaféPress much longer. They seem to be dweebs. Get the shirts while you can!
-This is very great. But there are a few problems. The first one is that they don't offer any dark colors, as they can't figure out how to put light-colored ink on a dark-colored shirt. They only offer four colors of shirt: white, light green, gray, and pink. I'd say that severely limits creativity.
-The next problem is that they put limits on you. They offer about fifteen kinds of shirts, including the pink, gray, and green ones. But you can only sell each kind of shirt with one design on it. So if you put, say, "Design A" on a green shirt, and you have also "Design B" that you want to put on a green shirt, you can't do it UNLESS! you upgrade to a "Premium Shop" for $5 a year. That's why I haven't yet put out any more than two designs. I've only found two designs that work with the kind of shirts they're offering.
-And to make things worse, I've hit on a problem that not many other people have. One of my images (One that says "Caution: Do Not Read This Shirt" and has a red triangle with a black exclamation point in it), which I uploaded to the site but had kept in my "Image Basket" until I could find a good shirt for it, seems to violate a copyright. That's what was in the first letter they sent me. It was a very cheerful letter that was careful not to be accusative, so that's all good. But it still supposedly violated someone's copyright. I asked them whose. They promptly sent me another letter telling me that it was the copyright of one Jim Vitello.
-I researched Jim Vitello. He owns an online shop. The shop sells Scratch-'n'Sniff underwear. He markets it under the brand Caution, with an exclamation point in a triangle, a lot like mine. His website doesn't actually appear to sell anything, though. What it looks like has happened is that he registered the word "Caution" for a Registered Trademark with the U.S. Patent office for the sole purpose of cruising CaféPress and pointing out to other people trying to use the word "Caution" that he owns the trademark. Because when I researched him, I found an entire message board consisting of people who had been gotten by the Caution Guy. Most of them were trying to sell stuff on CaféPress that, blindingly obviously, had nothing whatsoever to do with his Scratch-'n'-Sniff underwear (if he even makes it at all). Stuff like my T-shirt. Every time he finds something he writes to CP--I can see him staring at his keyboard in the dark, doing a little hunt and peck with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth--and tells them BOOP, BOOP he's found someone trying to infringe on his trademark. Then, because CP is afraid of him suing them, they quickly email a paranoid letter to the offending innocent. I wrote CP a letter back once I found out what this guy was about. I said, yes, my shirt was pretty similar to his logo and that I would change it, maybe taking out the exclamation point, but that the real issue was that this guy was a lunatic, and that they needed to get a backbone and do something about him. I don't know if they will, but they obviously should.
-Anyhow, I'm going to write a description for that "Think Ahead" shirt, because I haven't yet, and then maybe put some of my other designs onto the different variations of white shirt they offer (fitted, organic, economy...). But I don't think I'll stick around with CaféPress much longer. They seem to be dweebs. Get the shirts while you can!
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Permanent Marker
I have just finished starting creating my T-shirt store! It is located right here. As yet there are only two shirts there: "Think ahead" and "What do you mean it's backwards?" As soon as I figure out how to put more on, I will do it. Rest assured, I've got eleven more great designs to put forth. I'm a little bit worried that it's not possible to add more products. Hope it is.
Other than that, this last week or two I've been going to band practices and doing Spanish stuff mainly, because (have I said this already?) I'm skipping Spanish III this summer to do IV this year, but I can't just skip it, so I've got to do the course during the summer. I just finished the course book last night and tonight wrote my one-page essay on La Catrina, which isn't as lame a book as it sounds like, but is still fairly lame. Fortunately, the essay only peripherally involved the book. It was much more about what foreign country I would go to college in if I were going to. I said Canada. I also vouched for Spain's siestas. I said I think there should be siestas everwhere. Tomorrow is the Spanish "Exam", which Mrs. Rudolph mentioned before she left for vacation last week, but didn't explain. I guess I'll... go up to her house, or something. I don't know.
BJ--How do you want me to Drop You A Line? If here is okay, then sure I'll go to the bowling party with you. What alley? One time at Brentwood Bowl a few years ago I was with Micah and one of their vending machines failed to vend (it was the kind where you stick a quarter in and out comes a small, crappy toy), and when we told a certain guy at the desk, he said it was a vending machine where you only have a chance of getting something, which it obviously wasn't--for one thing why would anyone put their money into it if they didn't know they'd get anything and there was no fun involved in trying to get it?-- and when we tried to explain this to him he got all annoyed and rude--and we were, like, twelve and eight at the time, bear in mind. So I told him he was a rude person and ever since I haven't gone back there. But maybe they've fired him. It seems likely. And if they haven't, he wouldn't dare be rude to a large group of teenagers, for fear he might find his car on fire, with him in it.
Other than that, this last week or two I've been going to band practices and doing Spanish stuff mainly, because (have I said this already?) I'm skipping Spanish III this summer to do IV this year, but I can't just skip it, so I've got to do the course during the summer. I just finished the course book last night and tonight wrote my one-page essay on La Catrina, which isn't as lame a book as it sounds like, but is still fairly lame. Fortunately, the essay only peripherally involved the book. It was much more about what foreign country I would go to college in if I were going to. I said Canada. I also vouched for Spain's siestas. I said I think there should be siestas everwhere. Tomorrow is the Spanish "Exam", which Mrs. Rudolph mentioned before she left for vacation last week, but didn't explain. I guess I'll... go up to her house, or something. I don't know.
BJ--How do you want me to Drop You A Line? If here is okay, then sure I'll go to the bowling party with you. What alley? One time at Brentwood Bowl a few years ago I was with Micah and one of their vending machines failed to vend (it was the kind where you stick a quarter in and out comes a small, crappy toy), and when we told a certain guy at the desk, he said it was a vending machine where you only have a chance of getting something, which it obviously wasn't--for one thing why would anyone put their money into it if they didn't know they'd get anything and there was no fun involved in trying to get it?-- and when we tried to explain this to him he got all annoyed and rude--and we were, like, twelve and eight at the time, bear in mind. So I told him he was a rude person and ever since I haven't gone back there. But maybe they've fired him. It seems likely. And if they haven't, he wouldn't dare be rude to a large group of teenagers, for fear he might find his car on fire, with him in it.
Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Ted Berry
I was at Wendy's the other day, having a spicy chicken sandwich and sitting by the window watching the cars pull into the parking lot. I had been sitting there about fifteen minutes when one car in particular got my attention, because it had two bumper stickers that said "Ted Berry for Judge" and two huge decals saying the same things on both the back doors, and the license plate said "TMB 2". It didn't take much to deduce that the person driving this car was probably Ted Berry himself, whoever that was. He came out of the car, dutifully peeled the two decals off the back doors (they turned out to have been magnetic), put them in the trunk, and came into the restaurant.
-After he ordered he sat at a table that was nowhere near mine. He looked kind of Mexican, and he had a mustache and was wearing a tie. He ate for a while, and one time he got a phone call from what seemed to be his wife. I ate the rest of my meal too. He got up around the same time I did, and we met at the garbage can. "So are you Ted Berry?" I asked.
-"Yeah," he said. "Why?"
-"Oh, I saw your decals and your car."
-"Oh. Yes, I'm Ted Berry," he said and shook my hand. As we walked out the door he asked, "Are you eighteen yet?"
-"No, I'm not voting age," I laughed.
-"Oh," he said, walking to his car. "…You live around here?"
-"Yeah, just down the street."
-"Well … tell your parents to vote for me!" he said eagerly. I smiled at him. Then he opened his trunk and gave me a flyer, which I later discovered had a few typos, and pulled out a Ted Berry for Judge sticker and put it on my sleeve. We said bye and I got on my bike. I realized I didn't know yet whether or not I supported him, or even what party he was from, but I thought it was kind of neat that I had met someone with his own stickers, so I wore it all the way home and then stuck it on my door. I did some research on him and found out that he's the son of Ted Berry, Senior (thus TMB 2), Cincinnati's first black mayor. He's also a Democrat. My family is Republicans, but he seemed like a nice enough guy (if a little desperate—but wouldn't you be?). But then again, I imagine so would his opponent if I met her. It's all moot anyhow, 'cause I'm not voting age.
+++++++++++++++
The rest of this post is unrelated and happened more toward the current time (the Ted Berry thing happened on 23JUL). It has to do with the fact that I've sort of been wasting the last few days of my summer, but now that I've realized that, I'm doing my best to remedy it. Yesterday I sat around inside the house and did almost absolutely nothing. Today I'm going to do stuff. In fact I've already done a little stuff: I went to Wendy's again, and I updated my 'blog. Next I'm going to sit and do some of that "Español III en el verano" stuff that I have to do before school lets back in. I figured it would take me a lot less time than it actually does. For example two days ago I decided I'd do a bunch of it, so I went to Warder and sat in the Ivory Tower (a tall pine) and cracked the books. I figured I'd have about a quarter of the book done by the time I got down, but I only got a lesson and a half done, out of 16 lessons. So I realized it might not have been an entirely bad thing if I had started earlier on in the summer. Now I have to cram, in a way.
-I've also realized and been depressed by the fact that there's not even a month of summer vacation left. By the way, does anyone know when school starts back up? I hate the end of summer. It's like a Sunday night during the school year, except a lot worse.
-After he ordered he sat at a table that was nowhere near mine. He looked kind of Mexican, and he had a mustache and was wearing a tie. He ate for a while, and one time he got a phone call from what seemed to be his wife. I ate the rest of my meal too. He got up around the same time I did, and we met at the garbage can. "So are you Ted Berry?" I asked.
-"Yeah," he said. "Why?"
-"Oh, I saw your decals and your car."
-"Oh. Yes, I'm Ted Berry," he said and shook my hand. As we walked out the door he asked, "Are you eighteen yet?"
-"No, I'm not voting age," I laughed.
-"Oh," he said, walking to his car. "…You live around here?"
-"Yeah, just down the street."
-"Well … tell your parents to vote for me!" he said eagerly. I smiled at him. Then he opened his trunk and gave me a flyer, which I later discovered had a few typos, and pulled out a Ted Berry for Judge sticker and put it on my sleeve. We said bye and I got on my bike. I realized I didn't know yet whether or not I supported him, or even what party he was from, but I thought it was kind of neat that I had met someone with his own stickers, so I wore it all the way home and then stuck it on my door. I did some research on him and found out that he's the son of Ted Berry, Senior (thus TMB 2), Cincinnati's first black mayor. He's also a Democrat. My family is Republicans, but he seemed like a nice enough guy (if a little desperate—but wouldn't you be?). But then again, I imagine so would his opponent if I met her. It's all moot anyhow, 'cause I'm not voting age.
+++++++++++++++
The rest of this post is unrelated and happened more toward the current time (the Ted Berry thing happened on 23JUL). It has to do with the fact that I've sort of been wasting the last few days of my summer, but now that I've realized that, I'm doing my best to remedy it. Yesterday I sat around inside the house and did almost absolutely nothing. Today I'm going to do stuff. In fact I've already done a little stuff: I went to Wendy's again, and I updated my 'blog. Next I'm going to sit and do some of that "Español III en el verano" stuff that I have to do before school lets back in. I figured it would take me a lot less time than it actually does. For example two days ago I decided I'd do a bunch of it, so I went to Warder and sat in the Ivory Tower (a tall pine) and cracked the books. I figured I'd have about a quarter of the book done by the time I got down, but I only got a lesson and a half done, out of 16 lessons. So I realized it might not have been an entirely bad thing if I had started earlier on in the summer. Now I have to cram, in a way.
-I've also realized and been depressed by the fact that there's not even a month of summer vacation left. By the way, does anyone know when school starts back up? I hate the end of summer. It's like a Sunday night during the school year, except a lot worse.
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