Photoshoot!

Yeah, to relax and et cetera, I took a shameless photo shoot.

Location: My Office
Camera: Cheap Web-Cam
Lighting: One Lamp, Sun Down.
Clothing: Lumpy Red Sweater
Hair: Lazy Pigtails, Unbrushed
Accessories: Earrings
Make Up: None
Props: Book, Coloured Pencil, Mother's Glasses

This Weekend

This Weekend I'm running like my feet can't bear to stay on the ground.

Friday, Racquetball game. Immediately after school. Opponent's a sour natured girl, who won't shake hands properly and frowns and whines and tells all her friends I'm cheating for having good positioning. I go from this to Babysitting, no time to change. They jump on me and want to play tag and have milk and dinner and the little baby wants to poop and scream and run around and Grace wants to jump from furniture to furniture, that's not allowed...

I sing to Nate as I rock him to sleep, I sing "Into the West", it's what comes into my head, and he falls to sleep in my arms and I kiss his little face on his soft cheekbone, and a little eyelash is there. It's dark and long; not from a baby's eye. So the wish is mine, and I wish that someday...

Memory fades out, I dream of the National Vocabulary Competition, and making Sra. Altadonna a ball of stress and nerves, and we get there just in time, and sit together, Laura and Christy and I, as it all begins, and up on the stage there's bright lights and dry ice and a noise like thunder and the first girl goes up, and it's not even Vocabulary but Geography, and I don't know if she even get's it right - what does that buzzer mean, after all?

It means wake up, up I get, I shower, go down and shove a strawberry crepe down my throat and take the highway to work, barely get there ontime, half asleep and with an arm throbbing from Racquetball and Baby-Changing and forty new dollars in my pocket and it's payday and I get a 400$ paycheck, so now I'm rich but I have to shelve books all day...

Home again, it's out the door, to Arabic Church - I've turned it into my Government service project as well. Little kids climbing and kicking and screaming, Alleh, Daniel, Daniela, Eva, Evaline, Mary, and a new little girl, and we watch the service, it's interesting, and we eat some food, and we're home again, the house is cold and empty without Mom or Dad or Melissa or Tidbit.

Asleep - for longer, but not long enough. I skip Racquetball practice to write the Government essay, Angie hasn't even done it, for all that. Due on Tuesday at midnight, I want to get my English essay done tonight, perhaps it will happen. Lovely times at Layla's house, such nice smells and golden colours and a bird hits the window and whirls about with a wounded wing scattering decaying leaves about it.

Dark and Deadly Kaos, Smooth and Simple Peace... I look forward to Thanksgiving, and to Christmas, and to next year being a Senior, and College, and seeing the world, and meeting someone I want to spend my life with, and having adorable little dark haired children, and then quite suddenly I don't want to go forward any more - the tunnel plummets onward to the end of my life. So I sit back, and concentrate on the minute - what do you have to do RIGHT NOW, this very minute. What's due in the next? What's important?

And I decide blogging. :D

Brief and Burning

It's November, so the sun is completely set by about 5:00, and most day's the weathers nasty so it's dark from about 3 onward. But my, when the sun comes out, is it bright! Looking out the window is like looking straight at the sun, and the street just glows. But not in a good way. And it gives me a headache. ;)

Danish?

"Miranda, quick, what's a language that starts with a D?"
"... Danish?"
"Yes! Okay, do you speak Danish?"
"No... Why?"
"Because I was online searching for something, and the little preview thing was in English, and then..."
"Ohh... I can read Danish, if that's what you mean."
"Yay!"

(She hands me a paper)

"First off, Kelling, this is Swedish. Second of all, it's not the story, it's the history of the story. See, here it tells you about the translation..."

Snapshots from Bitter November

Me stuffing my face, fresh out of the shower, and a little hyper after the poetry slam, in that order.

Poetry Slam

The Second Annual, First Biannual Poetry Slam was today. That is to mean; last year we had the first one, and, with the incentive of extra credit, it was a resounding success. So this year we mean to have two. Today's was barely worthwhile, but barely does rightfully imply that it was worthwhile all the same. The Open-Mike was a neat addition; Layla read "Tech Support" and took the slam - not as powerfully as Haoran did last year, but it wasn't an original piece. Haoran also scored again; as did Alex, Angie Gao, Connie Tsai, and Billie Liao. There may be a rule that no white people can win. No, I don't mean just to whine by saying that; although there are only two or three white people who entered. Ah, well.

I got nice comments on my poem, but didn't score to well from the judges. That's fine by me; my poem was short, snide, sarcastic, biting, pointed, composed in less than ten minutes a year ago, and thrown into the competition at the last minute to even things out. It also probably didn't help that the group it made fun of and cut down WAS poets, teen-poets to be specific, so it's less than ideal to enter into a teen-poetry-slam, if you want to be pragmatic. I'm sure I've posted it before, but here it is again to freshen memories;

I wear the mask that grins and lies,
It lies to hide my awful eyes,
It grins to mask my pitted skin,
The sight of which kills lesser men.

I may look sad, I may look cold,
But if the mask were backwards-rolled,
I'd stand still changeless before thee -
In dear-bought truth, the mask wears me.

First Snow - St. Louis Style

In summer I've spoken of how the water comes off the river and raises our heat indexes to the roof with the humidity levels. Well, the moisture takes a few breaks in fall, but comes back again for the beautiful St. Louis November - which is here in full force after a strangely warm day last friday (we're talking hiking-in-tanks weather).

What I mean is - wet, and quite cold. Not VERY cold, for if it was any colder of course we'd have snow, but it FEELS colder because it wraps around you even as water, and it's raining, and it's very windy, and it all sort of permeates you to the point that when you go inside, you're amazed at how fast you warm up until you realize that's because you had imagined yourself thoroughly drenched.

But yeah, the forecast is snow tonight or tomorrow; may not stick, but should be there. There have also been reports of snow today; little flurries amid the freezing rain. May or not be true, and is far from picturesque, but it's there.

Icon Picture

My Icon pictures doing something creepy when downsizing so that one of my eyes is all white and kind of scary. I'm replacing it with a blacked out eye. Sort of equally creepy to think about it, but not if you don't. ^^

No reprieve

I admit, there is no crushing pressure anywhere. Not from grades... to be honest, I care more about them now, but they are the same as they've always been - satisfactory. Not my best, but satisfactory. Work is going swimmingly, and I like it. Tidbit's alive, and on the mend. My family sucks, but they're not like abusing me or anything, and they love me, they're just loud and angry and 'used up' or whatever. I REALLY need to get my license, but that's hard to manage - Racquetball can quietly take the backburner and that's life...

So no, no crushing pressure. But no reprieve, either. Nowhere to hide. Not in free time or immaculate grades or in friends or even in family. That's what's cutting into me.

Emails are really the only thing I have. And that's little enough - and a guilty pleasure in reading.

Memories

When all that is left to us are memories. They are not faded, but vivid and fresh as the day they were conceived, and painful and bitter.

New Picture

I've replaced my profile picture with this years official school picture:


P.S. - It may seem as though I'm being emo in my latest posts. I am NOT. I am MOST DECIDEDLY NOT. That would totally be breaking my promise to self. ^^ That is all.

Snake Agent

I'm reading an interesting book right now, called Snake Agent. I don't think the titles all that amazing, but at any rate I'm almost through it and it's... refreshing. Very creative and different and all that good stuff. It's got a somewhat a-christian-morals view on Heaven and Earth and Hell and all that, but still manages not to feel like an entirely guilty read, and I think the main charectors hearts are in the right places. I know they are; they try their damnedest to do what's right.

And it's just so much fun... the descriptions are amazingly vivid, and the world is strange, but so confidently laid out you don't quite feel frightened. Which was a problem in Snow Crash, a somewhat similar book I read. You were never at all at ease in the world... you were somewhat in awe of the charectors who were. But Snake Agent's just a tad bit more approachable... and that makes all the difference.

I'm also reading "A Child's First 1000 Words - In German". It's very useful, but the designs the same as "A Child's First 1000 Words" (In English), so I get some funny looks toting it about. Ah, well.

I love my job! I can find so many books there. ^^ I think one must use a library the same way one uses a Thesaurus - if you don't remember, as I think that was a blog post from a year or more ago - that's by looking just for looking, and not to find anything in particular. Otherwise you will likely be disappointed, but if you just explore, you find all manner of goodies. ^^

Reflections from the Backwaters

How quiet the lake is this time of year... how still the water, bright the sky, and the stars, and the campfire, and the sun on the waves moving beyond the pines. And how sharp the pain, I wake to rediscover every clear morning, when there is nothing but calmness and stillness and a different sort of pacing to keep you from it. I may live in the hopeful future, or in the nostalgic past, in it's combined pulchritude and putrefaction.

I'd rather not live this way, but I've only found so many ways of changing it - stress or business or the dearest, brightest joys.

And something else has changed... I was watching the stars, and I wanted to drift off again. I could feel the heavens calling me, like times before when I've sat within myself and felt as though I was going off into the edges of the world, seeing the sand falling in Africa, and the rivers of Russia, and the Yellow Sea, and the waterfalls and parrots of South America, and felt rooted to the earth, and so inexplicably happy... this was blocked from me.

So I stop watching the stars, and I stop tending the dying fire, and I go inside and turn on Springsteen, and my mind whizzes off, buzzing with the imagination so strong this time of year. And I want to write... how I want to write... about the things that are important; like honour and bravery and love... not about the dust my own emotions have become. I can write and become something bigger than myself...

I'm not proud of my depression, you know...

It does hurt less

It does hurt less... every day it hurts less. But it still hurts a hell of a lot.

It's hardest waking up.

Conversation with Self

Better Half: Don't be emo. You have the puppy; she came home; she's on your lap. You're going to the lake this weekend. Besides; you're strong, you can juggle work and r-ball and school, no problem. You're grades will be fine.

Worse Half: But they'll YELL at me... ;_;

Better Half: Well, keep blogging about it. That helps every time.

Worse Half: ...

12 Weeks

Time limps by like the winner of the special olympics. I've been in school for 12 weeks. That means it's emo grade time. My grades have taken a hit from Greece. Not an irreparable one, but a noticible one for this grading period. I think I can bring my parents over to that idea at the lake. Unless they see it here first... but I don't think they read my blog.

And I always get the funny idea that if they did, they'd understand what I was getting at and my point of view and everything, probably because I just write it exactly how I feel it with almost no censorship. And thats mostly names, and when something would be equivalent to starting a rumour.

But yeah. I don't need there pressure. I'm pressured enough myself. And super stressed out. And a little depressed. I thought it would go away when family problems calmed down. Maybe that was just a mask. Gah, I feel a bit trapped. But yeah, I know how important grades are. Exactly so. I don't think they're all important or worthless. I actually think I have a pretty good idea, and I worry, and work hard, and stress, and study, and cram, and cry, and all that.

So yeah, I don't need the parents angst on top of it, not when it's half founded in doubt, and not when I have a good idea of the situation and am reasonable confident I can bring the grades around by the end. Besides, I always do. ;)

Notwithstanding, Grade Guesses:

English - B, because of Essay weirdness. Should get back to an A.
Chemistry - B, nice and solid. Hit mercifully not applicable.
Math - C, nice and solid. I had hoped to bring it to a B. I can do it on the final, I know I can...
Government - B, should be solid and stress free; and that's the goal.
German - A, nothing to say here.
Spanish - A, but is it high enough for an H? I've done well on projects and tests, and participation, but I've missed a homework assignment. O.O, today, actually, and it was a horrible accident.

Total: AABBBC
Goal: HAABBB

I'm two and a half away from goal. That's not impossible at all. I can do this. :D

State of the Union

Life's been queerer than a clockwork orange. I permit you to read between the lines...

I've fought my family. I've sort of won. We're acting a little warmer again. I've come out of my school slump. It's in time for science, not for math. I've gotten invited to several youth leadership conferences everywhere from good ole' Washington to Russia or China or Slovakia. The Democrats took control of the House. No one knows what's wrong with Tidbit. But she's come home. Layla's admitted she desperately wants to go to Harvard. Billie's fighting the assumption that, as an asian, she'll do pre-med. Racquetball's started and mixed lovingly with my job and school like Hummus and Saffron and Oatmeal go together. It's getting colder, slowly. It's very wet. I've heard the Democrats took the Senate, too. There are still a ton of leaves on the trees for this time of year. Today it was randomly 70 degrees. I wore my Norway! Shirt. Britney Spears is divorcing Kevin. Agnese laughed at my Italian. Walaa smiled at my Arabic, Amelia at my Aramaic. Bush admits the losses are all his fault. Layla's sick of studying. Charles won't admit defeat. Erin brought bagels for our Chemistry class. Rumsfeld resigned. Sara was practically doing cartwheels. We knew before the Government teachers. Or our parents. We've been studying the fall of the Berlin wall. I've shelved "Raising Bison for the Broken Heart", and "The Ugly Truckling", and "A Mind of It's Own: A History of the Penis". We're on Revelations in Bible Study. In Spanish we study food for two hours right before lunch. But we got to try Pomengranate. Stem Cell Research passed... despite the lies about cloning. The Cigarette Tax did not pass... life limps forward. I've forgotten more Latin than I think I ever learned. The sky is blue, the leaves drift across like... dry leaves. There's not always a metaphore.

War of the News

I've got major major Tidbit-related bad news, so I'm going to clutter up my life with a few points of minor good news for now.

A.) I'm out of my math-science slump. I would call it a grade slump, but I never really slumped in Spanish or German, and I'm still slumping as mildly as before in English and History. But no, I get what's going on in Math, and I went to tutoring*, and studied with Stephanie for the Chemistry test, and hopefully did pretty well on it.

B.) Arabic Church last night was fun. I think I'm actually learning some things! Not much, but a little. I know about 7 words now, and I notice them when they come up, and can sometimes guess the context. And I started learning the alphabet, because right before leaving, I opened my book and learned "m", and then I was delighted to recognize it. Then, as we had to draw thanksgiving oriented pictures with the kids, I managed to write "Shokran" or "Thanks", in Arabic! I was so proud I showed it to everyone.

* - This was fun, as I'm a member of the organization that was tutoring, and I show up and they're like, "Alright Miranda, go find someone (stupid) to help..." and I'm all like, "Yeah... About that...."

Letting Things Lie

Once, when I was little, I fancied I saw something buried in my wrist. I dug, with a fingernail and a paper clip, layer by layer, until I couldn't see it for the blood.

Once, when I was little, I fancied that when I twisted my arm about, an unsightly pocket of air came to surface in the crook of my arm. Out came the safety pins, and I don't think it ever really popped.

Once, when I was older, I misspoke - I said "På" for "For", and I wouldn't forget it. It haunted me for two days, until I remembered where I had learned it, burned it out from that very source. "Vent på meg..." never meant "Wait for me..." but, "Wait on me...". Sweet epiphany.

Once, when I was older still, I couldn't get stewardship and presidential together in my head, opposite taftian and congressional. I followed it to it's source, deep in a mountain of trivia long forgotten, moldered, all for the better, now feeding the mind. The Stewards of Gondor were less than the Kings.

So I'm sorry if I can't let things lie. It's never been my nature.

Utilitarian Garage Family

I don't know who to turn to. No, that's wrong. It's really completely off. I have plenty of people to turn to, and the diety of my choosing - that's one blessing. And I'm counting every one right now - not for warm and fuzzies, but because I have to.

Tidbit just drug herself up a flight of steps. Does anyone remember another little puppy who did that? Don't ever get a dachshund. Save yourself the heartache. They're the cutest dogs in the whole world, and the bravest (per size ratio), and the most loyal and sweetest. But you can love a mut just the same. I just want her to be Tidbit again.

Then there's my family. Coming home feels like going out to the garage nowadays. Cold and empty and old and worn out and above all utilitarian. Yeah. That's about it. My mind keeps going back to a day we all went hiking and played frisbee and cooked hotdogs and Tidbit and Tootsie chased each other down the trail as the leaves changed colours.

They're falling off the trees now - right as they've finally turned their brightest colours. The oaks are in full bloom right now, as it were - mom and dad say they've never seen such a bright oak. I took pictures so that when my heart is not as heavy I can enjoy them.

So yeah, Mom, she's still tired. Tired, she says. I don't know what I can do. My god, I'm sorry. I've tried my best. I try to be a good daughter. So, it's bad enough you yell at me. Tell me I'm the reason our family is breaking. Yeah, bad enough. Then you get Melissa in on it.

Go ahead. Tell her I'm the devil. I heard you tell her that I'm what's wrong with this family, that I'm a special needs child and I've taken all you have to give. Go ahead, tell her everything. Tell her if it wasn't for me... If it wasn't for me we'd still be throwing frisbees down by the river banks.

But I won't forgive you for that. I swear it - I'll forgive whatever you've said to me, in time, but I won't forget or forgive what you said to my sister. Not unless you see what you've done and paid for it, or until I've changed and all the world with me, become a better person, the good Christian I ought to be. I guess then I won't be wrecking any families, either.

Layla emailed me. How happy that makes me feel. When the whole world is spinning, I think, a kind word smooths it out and brightens it, too. Thank you, Layla.

My grades are going to hell. I can feel it and I care but I don't care and I hate myself for that too. I suppose my German grades holding up fine, I have no idea about English or Chemistry, never do... Gym I need my make ups, Gov I should have a solid B, and then there are the two I have to focus on: Math and Spanish: Borderline B-C and H-A, respectively.

But Math is hard and I don't have the stomach for it. So I throw myself into Spanish and it holds me for awhile. And food. I like to cook whole loaves of garlic bread and curl up on the couch and read Marianela and cry. Okay, no, I really don't, but I did yesterday and it made me feel better. And I love my Spanish.

No, I won't be emo about it. I promised that much and I won't back down. But if I have to burn that away with anger, I guess I'll have to do just that. And I'll live on emails dropped like rays of sunshine, and hugs from those who care, and my Spanish, and Tidbit in the morning when she first wakes up, and is almost Tidbit again until she remembers.

Lack of Activity

Alright, so the reason I haven't posted on my blog or emailed anyone other than teachers or anything all week is that... I've had the most stressful week of my life, to date. But, now almost all my tests are made up and I can start living in the present again... it'll still be pretty rough for a while.

And I know it's gotten to the point of rediculous with sending post cards, but I still will. ^^ Because I'd still like to get them.

Anyhow, I think I failed my math test, but I'm doing well everywhere else, and I did get to go with Kaline to the science center, which was fun. More on that later. :D

And Tidbit's really sick. More on that later, too.

Duration of Life

Days are long, weeks are longer, seasons are short, years are shorter.

Profound, I know it.

Email

Right, so Altadonna emailed me back, answering my request for a grade report with:

"I'll let you know after class."

This means:

1.) She has no idea what I have yet.

2.) She is waiting to tell me I fail at life and have to give up until she can see my tears, in person.

3.) She is waiting to tell me I'd have to be the most amazing Spanish student she's ever had if I want a prayer, in person.

None of these tell me anything I don't already know. And I'm still really worried about it. Partly because I've let myself down, and partly because I've made the whole thing quasi-public, so I feel like I'm letting everyone down even though nobody else cares. Oh, the embarrassment!

This is so stupid. My dad says, "Worry is interest you pay on a debt you never owed". I think, maybe you owe the debt, but it's an interest free loan. Or something. Or maybe, "Worry is interest you pay on a debt you may or may not owe, and certainly don't have to pay interest, because interest is a concept that doesn't really extend to all metaphores concerning debt." Longer, but more accurate.

Nastiness

Right, so... I didn't get all my work done this weekend, I'm not even well rested, and I'm about to be physically sick not wanting to face Sra. Altadonna tomorrow. I know I did terribly on that test. Gah.

-.- I did post the first three days of my trip. No pictures yet.

To Do List

Yesterday I worked from 8:30-5:00, then had church from 6:15-10:30.

My to do list today? My mom lovingly wrote it out for me.

Sleep in.
Relax.
Install printer.
Install keyboard.
Go to Racquetball.
Shower.
Do Homework.
Clean Room.
Sort School Stuff.
Clean White Crate.
Clean Office.
Clean Bathroom.
Watch Scarlet Letter.

Right... you know, just because a Day is technically empty doesn't mean it's infinite...

So far I've slept in, sorted school stuff, cleaned my white crate, and installed the keyboard. It's four in the afternoon...

A Words I Need to Brush Up On:

A few I don't know, most I could read without looking up but need to know more firmly.

aberration n. Deviation from a right, customary, or prescribed course.
abet v. To aid, promote, or encourage the commission of (an offense).
abeyance n. A state of suspension or temporary inaction.
abject adj. Sunk to a low condition.
abjure v. To recant, renounce, repudiate under oath.
ablution n. A washing or cleansing, especially of the body.
abnegate v. To renounce (a right or privilege).
abrade v. To wear away the surface or some part of by friction.
abrogate v. To abolish, repeal.
abscond v. To depart suddenly and secretly, as for the purpose of escaping arrest.
abstemious adj. Characterized by self denial or abstinence, as in the use of drink, food.
abut v. To touch at the end or boundary line.
accouter v. To dress.
acerbity n. Sourness, with bitterness and astringency.
acetate n. A salt of acetic acid.
acetic adj. Of, pertaining to, or of the nature of vinegar.
acrimonious adj. Full of bitterness.
acrimony n. Sharpness or bitterness of speech or temper.
actuary n. An officer, as of an insurance company, who calculates and states the risks and premiums.
actuate v. To move or incite to action.
acumen n. Quickness of intellectual insight, or discernment; keenness of discrimination.
adduce v. To bring forward or name for consideration.
adjudge v. To award or bestow by formal decision.
adjunct n. Something joined to or connected with another thing, but holding a subordinate place.
adjuration n. A vehement appeal.
adjutant adj. Auxiliary.
alluvion n. Flood.
amalgam n. An alloy or union of mercury with another metal.
amalgamate v. To mix or blend together in a homogeneous body.
amorphous adj. Without determinate shape.
ampersand n. The character &; and.
anhydrous adj. Withered.
animalcule n. An animal of microscopic smallness.
anode n. The point where or path by which a voltaic current enters an electrolyte or the like.
antediluvian adj. Of or pertaining to the times, things, events before the great flood in the days of Noah.
antilogy n. Inconsistency or contradiction in terms or ideas.
antipathize v. To show or feel a feeling of antagonism, aversion, or dislike.
antiphon n. A response or alteration of responses, generally musical.
antiphony n. An anthem or other composition sung responsively.
antipodes n. A place or region on the opposite side of the earth.
antistrophe n. The inversion of terms in successive classes, as in "the home of joy and the joy of home".
arbiter n. One chosen or appointed, by mutual consent of parties in dispute, to decide matters.
arbitrary adj. Fixed or done capriciously.
arbitrate v. To act or give judgment as umpire.
arraign v. To call into court, as a person indicted for crime, and demand whether he pleads guilty or not.
arrant adj. Notoriously bad.
arrear n. Something overdue and unpaid.
ascetic adj. Given to severe self-denial and practicing excessive abstinence and devotion.
askance adv. With a side or indirect glance or meaning.
asperity n. Harshness or roughness of temper.
attache n. A subordinate member of a diplomatic embassy.
augur v. To predict.
aver v. To assert as a fact
avocation n. Diversion.
avow v. To declare openly.

Vegelate and Zorbing

http://www.worldwidewords.org/topicalwords/tw-veg1.htm

I wonder if American Chocolate does the same? I personally would have chosen; "Industrial Chocolate."

http://www.worldwidewords.org/turnsofphrase/tp-zor1.htm

Too bad this apparently wasn't around when they were filming LOTR...

Sounds like me and my German Chocolate...

http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyID=2006-10-20T133159Z_01_L19327462_RTRUKOC_0_US-CIGAR-RECORD.xml&WTmodLoc=OddNewsHome_C2_oddlyEnoughNews-4

Short Reflection on Death

You don't feel their loss. Not after the first few weeks, at least.

You just don't feel their presence.

It's almost like they could be just around the corner, like if you whistled loud enough, they might come running.

I don't think our minds can truly grasp the enormity of it.

More H Angst

Yeah... so I'm still in knots over the H. And I know no one cares but me. But I've let myself down, and I feel like I've let Mrs. Altadonna down too. But I'm feeling a little bit better all the time. There was a dumb mistake; not 100% mine, but mine in the vast majority. Mistakes happen, and life goes on, but you can't expect an H to withstand them. I shall get an A, and I shall still read the Honours book (unless they like... take it away or something... :S) - I think it will improve my vocabulary and fluency anyway. Next semester I'll kick you know what and take an H, and next year I'll have it in the bag. I'll make Altadonna forgive me by doing well in her Vocabulary Competition. :D

See... it's not so bad. Besides, if there are enough points in the class, it's still technically possible for me to get an H. Until I know otherwise. And, if I put the energy I would have put into the H - or even the energy I've put into worrying about it - into my other classes... who knows what will happen?

Spanish H --- Over?

Alright, so I really shouldn't have tried to take the test I missed today. But, I had to stay after to talk to Mrs. Altadonna, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. BAD idea... She even gave me a chance to back out before she gave it to me. I really should be shot over this.

Yeah. So, I got a C. Yes, I already know. Forget the fact that I knew everything we had covered when I was in class, forget that I think I aced all the culture information, forget the fact that as far as mountains and rivers went, I was all set. Even forget the fact that I learned the Regions and they didn't even make a guest appearance. There was a province map and a city map, and I got about 60% on each of those. Frankly, I'm not even sure how math's contrived against me to make my total grade a 77% if I add in a tiny margin of error (at least that's not in my favour).

Anyhow... in any other circumstance, a C would be... how can I say this? Recoverable. But I don't know how many points the class has in it, and it could EASILY make it impossible for me to get an H. Goddamn. -.-

Let's be optimistic, though... and I need to be, becaus I need the sleep. Lets say I get 80 points out of 81 for my participation every six week period. (what I made last time, I think). Now lets pretend that my entire grade was participation and this test. With just last six week grading period's participation, that brings me to 89.9%, an A, rounded up. Now, I do need a 94% on the next evaluation. Technically, I might get off with a 93, but NO LOWER, and I'd more or less have to ace the final. This scenario gives me... 93 even, so it's possible.

Just for realism's fake sake, lets throw in 200 points worth of homework etc in the first grading period. That scenario would make my current grade 89.5... tecnically an A, rounded up, but nowhere within striking range of my H. But, I do have room before 12 weeks, and I already have a little more participation, (2 weeks?) and a pamphlet project (A). It brings me to a pathetic 90%.

Lets say that as things are speeding up, I have 300 other points this grading period. If I get 100% on that, I get a 94.4%, just enough, but I think I'm being optimistic about the point pool. Even so, thats with participation, so maybe....

And really, I'm thinking too hard and all of this is speculative. I'm going to leave it at this:


A.) It's probably possible, if highly unlikely, for me to get an H.

B.) This is an H we're worried about, after all...

C.) Even if I fail, I still have an A... :D

D.) I can still read the honours book and boost my vocabulary.

E.) There's always next semester and next year for H's.

F.) I always do better second semester.


Will all these nicities help me sleep? Dios me ayuda.... I hope so. :)

Waahhh...

I haven't had time to write about Greece... so I haven't written at all! I'll get to it... I promise. :D

Day Three - Athens City, the Agora

The air was clear when we first woke up, bright and early - eight o' clock in Greece and midnight back home. The air was clear, so we could see then that what we had previously mistaken for open sea was perhaps a bay, or a water so crowded with islands that they ringed us with seemingly unbroken land.

At breakfast the quiet lay upon us still. The banquet hall and porches contain, in full, too many silent seagulls, a very friendly cat, and some exquisitely coloured birds with the most graceful shape, all striking black on white. The waiter is a slightly frightening man with a very square head, perhaps vaguely inspired by Frankenstein. Beyond that our company is nothing, and we had the distinction of being alone in a restaurant, watching trays of fried eggs replaced by trays of fried eggs, twice an hour, like clockwork. It seemed to me a waste, but for all I know they may be swapping the same two trays ad infinitum. What would stop them?

I sample everything and arrive at my favourites: squares of soft bread, warm, in cinnamon and sugar; sesame rings with salami; 'Frutomania!', also known as yogurt for small Greek children, bearing a picture reminiscent of Pokemon, a little boy with his hand outstretched presenting an unusual, star shaped fruit. I found slices of this same fruit and sampled them, but their taste was about as remarkable as that of a pear, and nothing like the yogurt. Still, I wonder who could make the connection between a grape and a grape slushee? I'll have to look it up when I get home... I've also taken a picture of said yogurt.



On we went to Athens itself, taking a cab to the Plaka. Anywhere in that district you can stop and look around you, find no less than one site of ancient ruins, two tourist shops, one taverna, four motorcycles, one random peddler, and a hundred and fifty Greek people. So, while it is a tourist neighborhood, understand that is only because the tourists love it there, not because the Greeks do not.



The tourist shops all have postcards, picture books of Greece, coffee tabled books (invariably Athens, Greece, the Acropolis, Greek Lovers, Greek Islands, and Kitties!... I don't pretend to understand that.) They also have lots of jewelry, lots of realistic looking pottery (my favourites were the salt and pepper shakers), all the little statues, and nice chess sets. There are these little medallions everywhere - blue, with a sort of eye painted on them, which are to ward off the evil eye. For Melissa we wanted a necklace of blue beads with a single, medium sized evil eye medallion at the end, but this was easier stated than followed through on. They had everything but that particular design, and finally we compromised with a bracelet of pretty blue beads and the evil eye every four spaces.

Eventually, of course, we bought the obligatory tourist clothing. My Dad bought a T-shirt of the Acropolis, and I got for myself and Melissa a shirt with the first lines of the Odyssey in Greek. What I really wanted was an entirely non touristy shirt with Greek writing like the natives might wear, but this was better than most. For Mom we bought a "traditional virgins dress" because it was cuter than the "traditional matrons dress", and besides, everything in those stores are "traditional". We picked a deep olive green like pine needles because it goes nicely with our skin tone.

Now this next part was purely destiny. The store had a thousand shirts saying "Greece!" or "Athens!" or "The Olympics!" and exactly one which said, "Norway". I had to have it. I didn't know or care what it was doing in the Plaka of Athens Greece, but I knew I couldn't find them in Ballwin MO, and here they were. It also has a little flag, and the whole shirt is decent quality... embroidered and the like.

At one store a lady was complaining as we entered that the same pottery she once bought for some hundreds of currency thirty years ago was now selling for Europennies in comparison. She was actually still lamenting this bitterly as we left ten minutes later...

"With the exchange rate, that makes almost 300 times!!" Alas for her...

There are an incredible amount of birds, cats, and dogs in Athens. In every olive tree you find a pack of the kitties, all shy and wary, but friendly, too. They snake their way through each ruin, as well, oblivious to signs and 'archeological sites" and "Do not touch the marble!", walking the streets humans once walked.

And on every ancient stone and outlook the dogs gather, many of them no more than puppies. We heard one fight and encountered the one strange dog our first night, but otherwise found them all rather amicable. They frolicked all over the hillsides, through parks filled with pot smokers and ancient statues, jumping over holes as perfect circles, once wells, now communal trash heaps. They even made their way into a few of our photos.

There are also peddlers everywhere. No straight out begging, but many instruments, trinkets, flowers, and obviously pirated DVD's striving for a glimpse at your wallet. I don't know how many people tried to sell me keychains, roses, or Pirates of the Carribean. From the Monostiraki beside Hadrian's Library I snapped a picture of one of the more unusual ones, an old lady selling cloth.

The place was beautiful. The Acropolis stood golden above it, nestled amoung many other hills, some deep pine green and others shimmering desert-like in the smog. Greek music wafted out of tavernas and down into the streets, and at our favourite store grape vines had grown up the treets and over across to one another, creating a shady and lovely green canopy.


Most of the Greek in the city had a translation, which was a bit of a shame, but what was interesting was that the translation wasn't always in English. There were several in German, a handful in Spanish, Italian, or French, and exactly two (that I saw), in Japanese.

We saw Socrates's prison, Pan's sanctuary, the Fountain of Kalliroe, the Sacred Gate, and more in the hills above Athens, then climbed in a roundabout way through homes carved into rock to the steps of the Acropolis and climbed to the rock of Pnix, where the first democratic assemblies were held.



I thought my prayers had been answered when the refreshments man, having no water, described one of his juices as "lemon."

"My God." I said, "It's Lemonade, in Europe!" But it wasn't meant to be. The juice was, as advertised, straight, pulpy, sour, lemon juice. It actually made me thirstier.

I counted thirty postcards from the cheapest store, at 20 Eurocents a pop. They all show Athens, Santorini, the Acropolis, the Karyatides, or the Tower of the Winds. I may wait until I get home to send them though, sorry to all those who hoped for a postmark. It's too complicated here.



After this I enjoyed some Gelato, a cone of vanilla. It's funny, I can't quite say whether it is more sugary or more creamy or what than regular ice cream, but I will say that it is different, and just as good, and it was what I had in Köln all those years ago.

The ancient Agora is amazing as well. You can see quite clearly where houses have been cut from the soft stone out of the hillsides, where enormous temples once stood. There are bits of rock everywhere, most plain but many with sculpturing: the top of a column, perhaps, and here and there a truly carved piece: a horse rearing to charge, arrested by the stone, half a woman's face. It's eerie in it's own way.

The pride of the Agora is the Hephaisteion, and rightfully so. The best preserved temple in Greece, it actually looks whole, or nearly enough so, though two black pigeons did take the place where the heads of a few statues once sat. Though small and perhaps not quite as ornate as the Parthenon or the Nike, it gives a good idea of what all the temples may have looked like complete.

The whole Agora was shaded, which was nice; I'm glad we did it on the hottest day of our visit. Also lovely viewing from the Plaka area, even if you don't make the climb, is the multi domed Church of St. Marina, patron saint of pregnant women, on the Hill of the Nymphs. I kid you not; the church is pink, a sleepy rose colour with a light red and tiled roof. It looks lovely perched in the trees.

As we climbed over Athens we heard the sound of a flute creeping through the streets and over the hills, a haunting tune that stirred the little yellow flowers that bloomed amoung the ruins. It shall forever be the voice of Greece for me, and there's the irony. Upon chasing down the source of the music at last, we discovered a band of Native Americans...

We saw the sunset from an ancient roadway that looked over the sea, sharing the area with a few other tourists, a college student studying, and a pack of half grown dogs. Back in the city as it grew dark, we got a seat at a table where we could see the Acropolis lit up for the evening. We tried with varying success to get a picture of the citadel shining golden against the sky, but such a thing can't really be captured.

The whole city erupted into furious backgammon playing as we sat and enjoyed some quality father-daughter time. The menu offered Grilled Soloman, which would have been very interesting to eat. Old, a bit gamey, but still good! :D Obviously, it was a mistranslation of Salmon, but strangely enough, there was a Salmon of wisdom, and Soloman was very wise as well. Coincidence? I think not!

We had a hard time getting a taxi, actually. First two didn't want to go all the way to the hotel because they had faster turnover with more money staying in the city. We finally found a guy on smoke break, though, and he agreed to take us provided he could finish his cigarette on the way.

He was an interesting fellow; intensely Greek, the second most Greek person we met. He was quite surprised that I had read the Iliad and the Odyssey. Shocked, really. He quizzed me on them. Of course, this was probably due to the fact that he thought I was 13 or so.

Sleep came quickly. That's never the problem.

Day Two - The Longest Day

Now at this point I've missed an entire night. I woke up yesterday and showered and finished packing and ate a loaf of fresh rosemary bread, drank a bottle of Sobe and went into the city. The day passed in planes, and a short night, too. This I sat through sleepless. I find myself in Athens at noon, with only one surefire way to prevent jet lag - I must stay up.

I'm on a buzzy high of excitement at first. It carries me off the plane and through the airport as if charmed. Our luggage comes out first. We have no wait for a taxi. I look around me and find signs full of letters I've memorized, one by one.



I get into the taxi. The air in Greece is warm and still. Faint smog is in the air, lending a haze to far off hillsides. Sleep begins to come over me. Finally we reach the hotel, and I revive somewhat. We check in to the eerie feeling that we are the only occupants of a deserted resort.

Examining the room I find a toilet that flushes with a round handle in the top, like picking the lid off a cookie jar. The shower is strange too, the basin long and narrow, the showerhead mounted in the center lengthwise. Curioser and curioser. The shampoos are labeled mint, vanilla cinnamon, and rice. The rice shampoo actually does have that fragrance; fills the room with that smell almost like bread.

The check in ladies do not assume you speak Greek. Everyone else, ναι. I don't know why - perhaps I look the part? If so, that may be a first for me.


We go to swim after showering. It is so quiet here, even the gulls hardly call. When they do, you can hear it clearly, hear the sound swoop over you as they glide on the winds as picture perfectly as a nature documentary. The water, too, makes no sound. There are no waves, even against the rocks that ring the bay.


There are few guests here, as well. I see one woman swimming and several staff lazing about the bar. The woman tells us in a British accent that the water's fine after just a few minutes, so we figure we'll get in soon.

I had a few second thoughts, I admit, when a German couple made their way down and gingerly entered. The woman bounced up and down incessantly once immersed, and I kept making out the same word from their chattering teeth... "Kalt!" Presently they retreated to a lawn chair.

Finally we did get in, although we feared for our lives after seeing the Germans and the Brits tested by the waters. We're Americans, after all, and quite used to the Gulf of Mexico. Note that these three guests were the only guests I saw at the hotel in the duration of our stay, excluding of course the other businessmen my father worked for, and possibly one other British woman.

All for nothing, their whining! Cold on the bare skin for five seconds, no more. We swam over to the rocks on the other side, and there the fun began. Standing on the rock, I began to feel a burning all down my leg and also on my elbow.

"Do these things bite?" I asked of the plan material clinging to my legs. They looked harmless and I guessed wisely that they were unrelated to the sensation. I rinsed them off and Dad and I conjectured that I had scraped my legs a bit in climbing and now the salt water was stinging them. Moments later a small quantity of blood appeared, so we figured the case was closed.

Back in our lawnchairs, I realized said affected areas, having continued to sting rather fiercely, were now lovingly swelling, turning puffy, white and red, in little lines. Anemone sting, as it happens. Aren't I lucky?

We wanted to take pictures, but the camera seemed broken; bad luck so far, it seemed.* I'll confess it; I began to long ardently for Germany. I reminded myself that the primary and sole purpose of the day was to stay awake so I could enjoy the rest of my trip, and took another bath, so hot it more or less cauterized the toxin. The stinging, which more or less felt like constantly pouring alcohol on a fresh wound, began to abate at last. I did fall asleep in the bathtub for a few minutes, though... this is not recommended.

After this we went out to Glyfada, a little district of Athens that was mostly unremarkable save in its proximity to our hotel. We had Souvlaki, Pitta, and Ice Cream. There was a chicken going around begging at the tables just like a pigeon would anywhere else. You can also find these in Key West, but I liked this one because it kept closing it's eyes and swaying slightly. Was it falling asleep?


We also had more fun with the local wildlife as a strange dog was lurking around, and charged the two of us and a Greek couple repeatedly, barking and snarling. My Dad had to go after it with a stone. When at last it fled for good, my dad and the Greek man turned to each other at the exact same time with their own equivalent of, "How Strange!” Funny, the four of us laughing, understanding our bewilderment without words.

Back in our nearly private hotel, I crashed, and had absolutely no trouble making it through the night.


* - The pictures did turn out in the end. Mildly gross image warning. ;)

Day One - In Route to Athens

Day One – In Route to Athens

First we stopped by some sausage place for lunch. Service was incredibly slow. Maybe a record. They cooked on sausage at a time, and probably spent another 5 minutes switching one with another. After consuming said sausage I determined that the extra time was needed to endow it with its uniquely wrinkled and crunchy outer covering. Hopefully my last meal in the states for a while.

Missouri to Chicago was a quick and uneventful hop. 1 Hour. I did look out the window and really was quite impressed by Missouri's stretch of farmland. Funny; I live in the middle of our breadbasket and need an airplane to get an eyeful of the fields. After this there was a long walk to the opposite end of the World's Busiest Airport. I joke that we're a third done. Then the fun begins.

We head to München... on Lufthansa! I got an eyeful of Germany before I even left our soil, much less our airspace. There was a guy from Serbia, too, but mostly a terminal full of jabbering blonds. I was in heaven.

I guess this was all yesterday; we flew against the night, so it's midmorning here and only 1 am in St. Louis. So; we got on the plane. On the ramp there was a cart of newspapers. I wanted one in German, but of course I didn't want to hold up traffic or take a paper from a genuine German, either. After a few apologetic and frenzied moments, I snagged one. It appears to be one giant business section. I don't know why that always happens to me... but it will serve.

I get on the plane. Dad heads to business class, saying, "You better go to the left." Of course, he means the left of the bulkhead, but I go to the left of the entrance and find myself in First Class. Everyone's speaking in German, so it falls to me to find my way back to coach. I manage, and since I boarded with my father, I'm one of the first.

The flight attendants assail me with an utterance born of years of experience. (Or perhaps they learn it in training). It's exactly halfway between Hallo! and Hullo! I say Hi. It's not quite as neutral, so they immediately ask my how I am and proceed to speak to me in English for the duration of the flight. Genius.

I'm not so wretched with my row mates. The first to arrive, on my right, is a tall, blonde female, 25, obviously German. For a few minutes I debate speaking in Deutsch and appearing an idiot or in English and removing all doubt. She asks me the wonderful question first.

"Spriechst du Deutsch?"

"Bisschen," I answer, and we proceed to describe our bosses and fathers getting first class while we were stuck in coach, that coach is far too small, where we live, and where we're headed, all in German. It's amazing what one can accomplish with even a partial hold on the language with creative speaking and discriminate listening.

Her name was Kristina, aka Stini, she lived in Hamburg, she had a boyfriend in Florida who looked just like my cousin Todd, and she was on her first business trip. After a while we did switch to English, but only after I (I hoped) demonstrated that at least some Americans care at least a little for other cultures. I also asked her how they had a city called Essen. She told me that of course she didn't know, only she didn't think of food, and that her boyfriend had asked the exact same question.

On my left was a married couple, sadly American. But all was not lost! Immediately to my left was Keiko, originally Japanese. I used my few hard won phrases and she was pleased, but mostly we talked in English, and her husband was also very nice. We shared music and travel stories until they both fell asleep. At this point Kristina was out too, so I tried to follow suit.

It kind of didn't work. The auras created too much interference. I couldn't distance myself mentally or emotionally from the fact that there was a perfect German here, and there was a perfect Japanese woman, and beyond was a whole field of Germans and their hum of German conversation blending into the roar of the plane, and also the plane was switching from a great model of our flight to a movie in no less than eight languages. I know I may be pathetic, but Lufthansa is right; there's no better way to fly.

The downside of all of this was that I cramped up really, really badly and couldn't move for 9 hours straight. I lived.

We arrive in Germany! We circle München for a while... there are mountains! So, we land and head through security again. Even that's better abroad. Again, the ambiguous greeting. I find it mildly but deservingly insulting. Are you one of our own, returning to the Vaterland? Or are you Auslander?

Um, right, the latter, and the worst sort at that.

I am emboldened by my encounter with Kristina and perhaps would have gone for the German, but my dad answers. I go through the sensor first, however, and once emboldened, once denied, I am hardly shy!

They ask if I am carrying a computer. I tell them nein, they point to the screen.

"Ach." I say, cleverly. "DVD."

They say stuff. They want me to take it out. I do. They put it in it's own box and run it through the sensor again, which confirms that it is a DVD player. Now the question...

"Spriechst du Deutsch oder Englisch?" I concede the latter apologetically, and then cheerfully add, "Bisschen Deutsch!"

They run my bag through again, sans DVD player, point at more stuff at the bottom. It's the landwire cords to the DVD player. I dig them out of the bag. Not those, they say. I'm confused, but then my calculator falls out. I'd forgotten I packed it.

"My Calculator?"

They seize it.

"Thisss...." With a laugh, I realize the problem. They don't know what it is. My memory returns to Stian, disbelieving my tales of Zelda and Mario on the Ti-84. I am only too happy to explain the situation like the imperialistic American I am.

"Taschen-rechner." I say omnisciently, pointing.

"Das ist eine Taschenrechner?!" (Best quote of trip, so far, albeit I haven't gotten out of the airport.)

"Ein sehr gut Taschenrechner." Unconcealed wonder. "Für meine Hausaufgauben." I want to stay and give demonstrations of Tetris, but by this time my dad, having had to fumble with his own very real computer, is finally through the sensor.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Mhmm..."

"I hope they hurry. We're going to miss our flight." (Spoiler: We don't.)

I danke everyone and we make a hasty retreat, shoving everything into my emptier carryon. The Athens flight is, from here, 2.5 hours. I don't mean to sound like a battle worn veteran, but that's nothing.

There are more German's on this flight. And a Spanish woman with a pretty baby. I LOVE Europe. If we went back to St. Louis right now, I would consider the trip worth it. It's silly to be so enamoured, but it also doesn't hurt.

So I expected the last flight to be boring, as some Americans with Chicago accents sat beside me. Instead I found myself extremely lucky yet again. The pair was originally from Chicago, but living in Zurich, as I found out when they came around for drinks.

"Möchtest du etwas zu trinken?" She asks, since I tricked her, and didn't speak English on the way in.

"Wasser ohne gas, bitte, danke schön."

They did the same, so then we really got talking, and didn't stop until Athens. We talked about poetry, literature, the northern lights, the pyramids, and, I must admit, languages. The woman was a linguist! We had a delightful chat of linguistic jokes that went right over her husbands head, literally and figuratively.

"Ah." He might cut in. "The imperative tense." To this his wife asked,

"Do you even know that the imperative tense is?"

"Well, yes, like, I am impaired..."

"No..."

But yes, it was very nice. She said it was a fun major and I should go for it. And her husband was a great guy, humbling himself at every turn and making everything hilarious. At one point I had finished my water and was holding it out to the attendant in a way that clearly signalled my desire to dispose of it. She merely raised her eyebrows as if to say,

"That's nice. That's really nice. You can hold a cup!"

With a laugh I turned back to my new friends. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well it may seem rude," he said, "But there's this thing, this feeling in Germany, Switzerland too... and it's like... 'How you like it." Oh, I'm going to do such a bad job explaining this..."

And so he did. We were in stitches as he described this phenomenon.

"It's like, if you want to hold your cup like that, that's okay, that's fine, they don't want to interrupt you..."

"My experience of holding the cup!"

"Well, yes, it's just; they're not going to take it away unless you ask them. 'How you like it.'"

"And if I should like it on their head, slowly dripping from their blonde hair?"

"There are obviously limits..."

Oh, they were great. I never cease to be amazed at my luck in good travelling companions. At last the plane lands. I look out the window and see hills and buildings. Suddenly I am lifting off the floor. It's Greece. It's really Greece, all there and suddenly real as it's never truly been real in my mind before. We are here.

Army of Slaves

Muahahaha! Alright, they're not slaves. Just useful friends. Or even just interesting friends.

The point of this post is that the moment I surveyed my math class on the first day of school, all my mind registered was the fact that there were no less than 3 foreigners in it. And, I knew that unless they were completely standoffish or rude snobs, I wanted to get to know them.

Now I gloat over my success! The key is to not act creepy. Don't act like you don't want to be friends, but don't particularly act like you do. It scares people off. Also, don't just target the foreigners. They'll figure out you have ulterior motives. Like sucking out their languages or souls.

Part of key one concerns the fact that, unless you take drastic measures, they will sooner or later discover you are a culture or language freak. Just don't be the one to tell them, and act as if it is perfectly natural if they ask. This does NOT mean blowing it off completely or changing the subject hastily. Just act like they've asked you about... I don't know, Racquetball or your favourite books or something.

The next part is that you can't just target all three of them and group them together. They're actually individuals. I started with Kaline because she sat near me and was the friendliest. On a totally different road, I started in on Agnese, who was staying with my friend Christy. The other Brazilian came last. I think her name is Lucia... maybe? I really, really should know... Ah well.

So. Now you're all friends. You say hi in the halls, maybe stop by at lunch, talk between classes. Moving things to the next level: Kaline and I are going to try to hit the Omnimax when I'm back from Greece and she's back from Branson. And, the wonder of the whole project? Agnese approached me about Italian! We're going to do a language exchange after school! We've been jokingly saying she'll teach me Italian and I'll teach her everything else. Actually, we'll probably focus on German or Spanish.

Right... like I actually had this attack plan. But I am glad they all turned out to be nice. :D
I can't wait until I can travel abroad and meet even more amazing people...

To Speak of Love at Lunchtime

You've ruined Macbeth for me, you know.

Have I?

Well, it's just the bit about the Norwegian. All I can see is Stian...

Did you ever see Stian, then?

No. What does he look like?

Well. He's blond haired and blue-green eyed and pretty. But no. I must cleanse myself of that.

Why? Don’t you speak?

Well, yes, but… well, things are over. It’s how they are.

I don’t believe that. It was too perfect. Besides, I finally reconcile myself to Chao’s boy and yours, and you go and get over them!

Well, I’m not quite over mine, and that’s the problem. Mostly, but not quite.

A pause.

But it just doesn’t make sense! I finally get used to it, and…

Layla! This isn’t about you! You egotistical… beast! It’s for me to get used to! Don’t make it your problem!

It’s just so perfect. I’m sure the moment you two meet everything will be fine.

A pause.

He is pretty, though. And his brother is totally ripped. I saw him coming out of the shower once with just a towel on…

Miranda! My respect for your maturity has just plummeted!

Layla, if you saw this, your eyes would flutter for a moment. Even yours. I swear it. Even if it didn’t do a thing, even if you didn’t consciously feel it, it would be there. It’s hardwired. (She glares)

A pause.

Alright, I’ll concede that, maybe… deep inside the heart of the id, only because it’s an accepted societal…

Oh, Layla, trust me on this one. He was ripped and tan and STEAMING. Literally.

Miranda! No! I was about to concede, but no longer!

Layla, I don’t… didn’t love him because he was pretty, you know.

I know that.

A pause.

It’s just that you’ve never been in love. Someday you’ll understand.

…

Don’t give me that crap about Rousseau, either…

No! It isn’t even fangirlism! I know fangirlism! This, is deeper…

Layla, my respect for you has just plummeted.

Quote Day

"From the sun rising above the marshes of Maeotia
There is no one who may be equal in deeds.
If is it right for anyone to rise into the regions of the gods,
For me alone the greatest gate of heaven stands open."

Epitaph of Scipio Africanus - Q. Ennius

“We Must Find a Way
Or we will make one.
Many things which nature makes difficult
Become easy to the man who uses his brains.”

-Attributed to Hannibal Barca

Tin and Copper: Assorted thoughts

Tin and Copper: Assorted thoughts

A bit overdramatic, but much like me, so anyone who reads this should crack up at this post... Oh, and, as always, it does have a deep end. ;)

Prepare for Takeoff...

There's really nothing like an American Passport. I have nothing to compare one with and therefore absolutely no business making that statement, but there you are. It's a deep navy blue, like Prussian Blue in freshly ground paint, with little silvery gold letters and our olive and arrow bearing Eagle gracing the cover. It's enough to make me proud of my country.

It opens to have a lovely message in English, French, and Spanish: "The Secretary of State of the United States of America hereby requests all whom it may concern to permit the citizen national of the United States named herein to pass without delay or hindrance and in case of need to give all lawful aid and protection." Funny, I never knew Condi cared so much. Interesting note: On British passports, the Queen "requests" this safe passage, etc, so thereby she can't actually have one herself. She requests directly in the event that she travels abroad. :D

After that I have all the wonderful data. Massachusetts, U.S.A. Following all this is the ugliest picture I have ever taken. That includes the one I took on webcam where I'm flashing the birdy and look obese. One of my eye looks like Poe's Evil Eye in a Tell Tale Heart, the other is normal size. Weird... Not to mention I'm about 13, and I have braces, and I normally take decent pictures for official stuff.

Now heres the part that bothers me. You know where you get the stamps from all the countries you've visited? I have two. Go figure. One barely visible one that says Frankfurt, and one big ugly one from Curacao. What happened to France, Belgium, and the Netherlands? Bah... :( Well, I'll be sure to get a Greek one this time.

Passport --- √

After all that, I've packed. One pair of shorts, one pair of jeans, skirts (4 long, 1 medium), a sweatshirt, swimsuits, a jacket, and a ton of shirts, shoes, and necessaries. I made all this fit in a carryon. :D My "Fun Bag" or lightweight stowable carryon, is at an all time record weight wise. It's empty except for my portable dvd player, toiletry kit, and purse. I'll add a book before I leave, though.

Luggage --- √

Can anyone tell I'm excited?

Greece AND Germany!

Alright, so here's the plan for the vacation:

Friday - Travel to Greece
Saturday - Sightsee with Dad
Sunday - Company Athens Tour
Monday - Hang out at awesome hotel
Tuesday - Awesome Hotel, Fly to Germany
Wednesday - Rhine Castle Cruise
Thursday - Hang around downtown Mainz while Dad works.
Friday - Fly Home.

St. Louis... Salute!

Honestly, how many places can you have 40 degree weather one week, and 90 degree whether the next? (5-32 degrees celsius.)

If this keeps up, I'll be flying to Greece to BEAT the heat...

4 Days Until Greece....

The excitement has started to mount. ^^

First Day of Work - First Day Sleeping In!

Yesterday was my first day of work! Yay! :D

It was so über-official! There are lockers, microwaves, a refrigerator, lots of dishes and stuff you can use if you wash them at the little sink, couches, magazines, a staff boards, and more! I even got a work email address! I'm very excited.

I sort of hit the ground running starting with an 8 hour shift, but it went well. I feel like I've got most of it down. I did 5 carts, which Maddy said wasn't bad at all for a first day. They checked all of them, but my accuracy was pretty good; I got tripped up once by a thin song book that was supposed to be on the left of the one I was shelving, not the right, and once by a label that snuck surreptiously around the book beyond the spine, and I didn't check the six, but other than that, it was all perfect. Yay!

I was a little sore when I got home, but the Mina's weren't going to church, so I got to go more or less straight to bed. Lo and behold, I got to sleep in for the first day in almost a month! I needed it, too... with my trip next week. I can hardly believe it's so close! I am going to take an almost obscene amount of photos...

Friend Game

I tried out the Friend Game on Facebook. I have mixed feelings about it. It displays a few of your friends, and an interest one of them has listed, and you have to match it up. Sometimes you'll get a really obvious, fun answer:

racquetball - obviously Rachel,

marching band - definately Christy,

Guns and Roses - Kate. :)

Mu Alpha Theta - Angie...

hermeneutics - Hmmm.... :P (Jashen)

And, anytime they give you a little more text to work off of, it's great:

"Happiness is like peeing your pants; everyone can see it, but only you can feel it's warmth" - Lisa,

"Emergency Vets? Hmm... I don't really watch much." - Christy

But then you get stuff like, "Bright Eyes" "Monk" "or "Friends". O.O Yeah... um...

...

http://www.911blogger.com/node/2807

Quote: "But this also happened on September 11th." "The Same Day?" "The Same Day." "The Same Day? Are you sure?" "Yes." "Are you sure it was the eleventh? That cannot be true." "Seven hours after the World Trade Center came down." "... Then they've worked very hard."

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5946593973848835726&q=9%2F11+conspiracy

I don't know what to think about this. Honestly, it's suggesting... too much. But... :S

Quote: "(It's) claimed that the building collapsed due to debris from the World Trade Center that caused internal fires. If this story is true, it is the third building in history to collapse due to fires. The first two are the World Trade Center Towers."

Quote from another site, which discredits most of the second video: "The promotion of theories about what hit the Pentagon in highly visible media do not advance that research but instead provide our detractors with ammunition with which to discredit us, and eclipse easily established and highly incriminating facts such as where the Pentagon was hit, the astounding failures to defend the 9/11 targets, and the obvious controlled demolition of Building 7."

Choices?

I haven't even started my job yet, and mom's trying to convince me to quit. She's got issues, I swear... she just doesn't want to accept that I'm at an age where I might have commitments that supercede our trips to the lake and such. That's okay... I'm fine with them leaving me at home when I go to the lake. But she's throwing a fit about it.

Furthermore, as a blatant, burning mark that her selfishness is the primary factor here, she brings up that I'm going to have to choose between my job and Racquetball, which makes no sense at all. Yes, I'll be doing two things. Hardly impossible. Yes, I'll occasionally have to miss a Tuesday or Thursday game for work. Layla missed half the Freshman games for Violin practice. Life goes on.

She's always wanted me to quit Racquetball, and does nothing to hide that fact. Why can't she accept that I have a life complete with interests and commitments?

Many Happy Dreams

Last night, again, I dreamt of Norway, and I can easily state that it ranks up there with flight as one of the most euphoric nighttime experiences. Not to say that I've ever even done anything amazing in them; I have yet to see snow, or fjords, or the Northern Lights. Therein lies the extent of my patheticness; I have twice been inside a building and one pursued by the police, on different occasions, and through all of it I have perhaps never been so happy.

It's silly to imagine Norway as such a beautiful and perfect place. Still, until I learn otherwise, it remains; many nights of longing and many happy dreams.

Case Cracked?

I feel as though I've been floundering in Spanish. My homework grade is nearly spotless, my participation grade 100% so, I've done all the reasonable extra credit, and my sentance structures are some of the highest in the class. But on speaking tests, I freeze. Altadonna seems to look straight through me. Every speaking test, she grades on one thing, and one thing alone. The Present Tense, for example. I could conjugate that in my sleep. But not before her gaze. I find myself wondering if Hablar takes a stem change, and backing myself into a corner before I realize I don't know the word for "To Show", and end up using "Demonstrar" with an apologetic and panicked tone in my voice.

I thought compositions would be better. My classmates are all using "Me Gusta" and "Quiere" religiously, and I was sure I'd win some points with my conditional tense and reflexive verbs. We get our grades back... A-, A-, D-, A-... and for you, Miranda... B Plus.

In Chemistry I'd be pleased by a B Plus. In Math I'd be ecstatic. But... Spanish? There are words in red under the grade... they spell a hateful "Bueno!". ¡No! ¡No Es Bueno! ¿Como es posible?

But I think I've cracked the code at last. In sharp contrast to the rest of the foreign language department as I know it, La Sra. Altadonna grades on errors. No subjective ratings on fluency, vocabulary, pronunciation, grammar, and spelling for her! Only a score, a shining one hundred percent, defiled point by point with every stammer and mis-step.

So I must try to dumb down. There are those who appreciate reach and ambition... and there are those who want barely functional but nonetheless flawless performance. I tear my clothes...

:(

4 Story Bookstore!

In Kansas City, I went to a big four story bookstore! It was so wonderful I wanted to move there just for that store. With only an hour and one hundred dollars on me, I only had the resources to examine 2 sections and buy four books. Findings?

Alright, the Foreign Language section was beautiful. Words can't describe it. It had more books for Spanish than any place I've seen, even the Barnes and Noble that hoarded the Español and scrimped on the others. Then, it had everything else! Even obscure languages like Xhosa and Yoruba. They must have had twenty copies of Wheelock's Latin, and they had "Harrius Potter"! Of course, I had to buy that just for the novelty.

As far as novelty went, however, it wasn't QUITE precious enough to buy "Norwegian in Ten Minutes a Day", even though I got a kick out of it. Many bookstores have that (regrettably) somewhat mediocre language learning series, and I'm used to seeing it in French, Spanish, German, Portuguese, and Italian. But Norwegian? There it was: the only oddball, too. No Swedish, no Danish, no Icelandic, no Welsh, no Zulu. I didn't believe my eyes!

They had perhaps seven books on Norwegian, a sharp contrast to my own Border's toss up chances of having "Teach Yourself Norwegian" or "Pimsleur Norwegian" on a given day. Unfortunately, I lacked the funds to clean them out, so I just bought "Beginner's Norwegian." It's lovely, and comes with CD Roms. Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll have a Northern Accent. ^^

I looked over the Spanish section and came within an inch of buying a few books, but I figured I had better buy the rarer ones while I had the chance. So I looked over Greek, briefly, before deciding that at my current stage I didn't need much. I scanned Italian, nothing enough out of the norm there, and German. But under Japanese, I was in for a pleasant surprise. I read a book a year ago with a very promising theme that failed to deliver... the book was called, "Japanese in Manga Land" and was simply too silly and poorly organized to help much. But, I found a book called, "Japanese, the Manga Way"! Flipping through it, I saw it was the same idea with less random cartoons and more actual analysis and learning. I bought it as well, then sadly moved out of the Foreign Language section.

With only ten minutes left, I reflected on my need for an Atlas, and picked up a small but heavy one with nice full colour political and geographical maps and a few nice photographs. It's also filled with Statistics and Flags. It'll do. Something like "Pocket World Atlas". Yay. ^^

I LOVE BOOKSTORES.

A Bucket of Good News!

First off, yesterday we had our first Disciple meeting of the year, and it was fun, and maybe we can focus better now that we're Juniors, eh? I'm looking forward to the year.

Creative Writing Club met again today. Steller second meeting. Mindy came instead of Sarah Baker (not to be confused with Sara Baker). Anyhow, we had a lovely time, although Layla does have a habit of making me feel just a hair inferior. Just a hair, mind you, enough that I see the distance and strive to close it. >D

Mr. McAllister is officially un evil now! After Christy talked to him a bit about it, he became exceedingly friendly, and his facial hair (which we long believed was controlling his soul) has been shaved off! But for what purpose? This remains to be seen...

I got my job! Hurrah! Yay! Dance! I spent about an hour today filling out paperwork for it, and another hour reading all the stuff they gave me. I start Saturday, and I already know one of my Coworkers! What a small world, eh?

Foreign Language Honours Attack!

Today and Yesterday the attack continued with some new developments. More than half the teachers are excited. A few are hesitant. One seems suspicious.

Gwen: "Sr. Navarro, we need a Foreign Language Honors Society."
Sr. Navarro: "What's going on?!"

But, I think we stand a shot. I approached Altadonna, the head honcho, again today. She basically admitted that it was increasingly become a possibility she would look into, but warned that a LOT of people would have to be interested. (Read between the lines: Not just you and your friends.)

Maybe. But what about Friends' Friends? And their Friends?

Christy and I reconvened. We inquired about Ancient History Course. They had good reasons against it, but we've put our two cents in. We're making a petition-esque thing for people to sign if they'd be interested in a Foreign Language Honours Society. We got Layla on board.

These are all good things. I think word is spreading. This might actually happen. We started a Facebook Club. :D Christy put in 4 plus hours of research last night on Clubs around the nation.

And Classical Club Meets tomorrow; Even if that Club fails as I suspect it may, it will serve to get us some new recruits in our cause.

Unstoppable!

So, I interviewed for my job today. The interview was 35 minutes long, and there were two people questioning me. But, I think I did quite well. Only one mark against me (I wore jeans... who would guess.... -.- they were nice jeans, too!), and one MEH answer (aka one question that caught me off guard). More than once they looked visibly surprised and impressed. Good thing. :D

And, I started working towards a Foreign Language Honours Society. Talked to Altadonna, she basically implied that if there was an overwhelming amount of interest, they would consider it. Met with Christy, established an attack plan. At lunch, got a core group excited, told them to tell their friends and their teachers.

By next hour, I told a senior, and she says, "Oh? I heard a group of Freshmen talking about that!"

GOOD SIGNS. We'll see. But Good Signs. :D

Racquetball Tournament

I just got back from a Racquetball Tournament. The world's oldest pro athlete was there. :D Heheh. Anyhow, we were the only high school kids there, and it was a huge tournament; there were people there from Japan, Columbia, and Russia, maybe even other places. Needless to say, we weren't the best people there. In fact, it's likely that I was the worst player at the tournament. But hey, just like the awards ceremony last year, I was there.

We got five and a half hours of sleep every night, did homework, showered, and ate in between reffing, coaching, and playing games, and ultimately got so sleep deprived and sore that Kelling nearly lost her English (not that that's a rare occurance, all thing's considered), Kate threw up all morning on Sunday, and I discovered previously unknown muscle groups. My abs were in agony, and both my arms are spazzing. No idea what the left one has to complain about.

Anyhow, it was cool. Team bonding, learning, experiencing. It's the kind of chaos I definately enjoy ex post facto, and part of me savours even during it. Character Building and stuff.

Strangers Among Us: Goth Guys Head for Concert

Just another interesting picture from the people watching site... nice point about 'non-conformist' groups and their dress code. :P

Strangers Among Us: Goth Guys Head for Concert

Strangers Among Us: Waterfront property...

Strangers Among Us: Waterfront property...

A people watching site. Amusing, interesting, and touching at turns. The photos make all the difference.

Bush is Listening!

A man who runs behind a car gets exhausted. A man who runs in front of a car gets tired.

Sudan

I saw them a year ago, when they had just come from Sudan. They wore nice, warm clothes that looked bulky and missplaced, especially that mild evening. Their eyes and teeth shone white and brilliant against their skin, even across the room. And those eyes lit up when they sang.

They spoke no English, then. Less than a year ago. I saw the one about my age again yesterday. He spoke incredibly, answering my questions almost as easily and fluently as a native speaker. And when he said a little Spanish, which he had learned the same way... merely listening... I was blown away.

So there's my familiar face in the wake of a disaster. He said the most different thing in America was the quiet... I didn't understand what he meant for a moment. He said in Sudan there were always gunshots, always people trying to kill each other... it didn't even wake you up at night.

Kind of makes me feel bad for my exploding water heater and dog barf and mom breakdown problems. Kind of makes me feel really bad.

Iraq

I saw a cartoon once from a dogs perspective, in which a human was lecturing to the poor canine, the speech bubble reading,

"...blah blah blah SPOT blah blah blah BAD blah blah blah SPOT..."

Of course, that's exactly how I feel at Arabic Church, when I go upstairs and listen to the sermon. Usually the only word I can pick up is "Pastor Billingsly", the name of the American Pastor at the Church, who it seems to me is mentioned a hell of a lot simply for lack of context. But tonight there were more familiar words than normal, something to the tune of...

"...qakh, qakh qakh AMERICA qakh qakh qakh BUSH qakh qakh qakh IRAQ qakh qakh qakh AKBAR qakh qakh qakh... "

Well, that intrigued me enough that I asked for a bit of a summary from Mr. Mina. He said they were mostly in favour of the whole operation because it was bringing increased opportunity for Christianity to the region. Interesting. Very Interesting. I'll have to think about that for a while.

At the same time... perhaps it's easier to say that now that they're living here. Before you jump on me and say, "How can you accuse others of being hypocrites when you're ten times more of one, never having endured any sort of hardship yourself!?", let me add that Amelia, who did live in Iraq, narrated the following tale to me in English too broken to accurately reproduce... let's just say that it's a cultural experience in of itself. ;) --

"Water like this... the faucet would be like this, but no water. No water come. Before Iran and Iraq no like, before Bush, water. Then Bush come... maybe water. Sometimes. Maybe... one day in week. Don't know. If water... fill (trash can)... use week, clean, cook..."

Good or Bad? Would you rather have Freedom or Water?

Not as if I'm the first person to ask that question, by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm starting to see it...

Greece

We went to the Omnimax today and saw the Special on Greece. It was amusing, and dual purpose; I got pumped about my trip, and I realized I've done a decent job of educating myself in preparation thus far. The whole movie was filled with wonderful Greek music playing over seascape vistas or historical monuments or modern day Athens, and to my wonder I found that I could understand bits and pieces. Ναι! Οχι! Εντακσι! Θεν ξερο! And, I recognized the city on the pamphlet as Sandorini.

This trips going to rock. In a month, I'll be in Athens. Melissa is jealous. ;)

Hello!

Hello! / Hi /Salut/Ciao/Hola/Olá/Oi/Kaixo/Da duit/Sut mae/Hoi/Hej/Cześć/Hallo/Γεια σας/Привет/Merhaba/שלוס/سلام/Jambo/안 녕 하 세 요/你好/今日は/ Mirëdita/Ahoj/Bog/Zdravo/Szia/Hei/ السلام عليكم /Здравей/բարեւ/สวัสดีครับ/नमस्त/Axiŗ/Sveikas /Tere/Sveiks/सत श्री अकाल/ آداب/Saluton/Bŭna/Bonġu/Slav/Sup/Hoy/Živjo/Chào ông/Selamat siang/Selamat tengahari/مرحبا / Wes þu hal/Ek aaru/Kedu/Sannunka.___

I surprised myself with how many I know, although some I sort of cheated at by using alphabets... Best touch? "Wes þu hal". :D

Optimism?

I have enough optimism yet to believe things will swiftly return to normal with the return of the father. In retrospect, here's a brief overview of the last few weeks:

Exploding water heaters, exploding soup in school microwave, lack of lunch money, collapsing ceilings, leaking toilets, awful teachers, leaking bathtubs, screaming fights, hot weather, cold classrooms, boring as hell new Spanish class, dog having bad reaction to vaccinations, breakdowns, wicked first day of school, coyote sightings, plastering, dog discovering joys of trash, two day hangovers, dog puking in car, fungus, dead birds, sick friends, losing all over in Racquetball, dog puking in house, misunderstandings, dog needing tooth operation, missed Debate meetings, missed Beta Chi Pi meetings, failed Chemistry Quiz, confused German assignment, failed Spanish speaking test, carpool complications, lost pocky, bleh bleh bleh.

Even then, there was also; Fun government classes, Layla and Billie at lunch, hope for Creative Writing and Book Club, amusing myself with Arabic Food and Freshmen, A few nice days, Christy passing Latin.

Die Gefährten

So. I've deliberately held off from posting too much on the blog, because I did promise it wouldn't be so emo anymore. But now... he has come home at last. From the iron clutches of Mainz, Germany and General Motors Europe, Dad's come back home, and it seems there may be peace.

P.S. - He brought presents. When he said that, you could read the thoughts going through our heads: Mom - "I hope it isn't a goddamn Cuckoo Clock..." Melissa - "Clothes?!?! Chocolate!?!?!" Miranda - "A pamphlet from the trains station or some-odd in German!?"

But my present was better than a pamphlet from the train station. It was Der Herr der Ringe, Band 1 - Die Gefährten. ^^ I am le-happy. I'm thinking of collecting each book in the series in a different language... starting with El Hobbit and Die Gefährten...

Eh?

http://youtube.com/watch?v=6B26asyGKDo

And I thought I was self obsessed taking a shoot a month... o.O