Month: September 2006

  • Wherever you are, I am glad that you are here!

    Somewhere along the line I realized that worrying about handwriting is one of the silliest things ever.  In 7th grade my notes were meticulously imprinted onto my notebooks; some words I would spend up to twenty seconds on.  But then I came to think:  had the magna carta been only legible by the slimest margins, it would not cease to be the magna carta, would it?  Legibility is the only goal now. 

    Aquafresh then prayer then bed.  Big day tomorrow, mock trial in English. 

    Goodnight!

     

  • Hey.

    The uproar about gas prices is so trendy.  I think I will go into school and complain about, oh, say .. orange juice prices.  They’re ridiculous.  It’s now up to $3.05 a gallon at Kroger.  Unbelievable.  I was driving by the other day and I knew we were almost out but I didn’t stop.  Gah,  stupid me! 

    If you are thinking “Well, the accumulation of buying gas is what makes it expensive, duh,” then you are not considering two things: 1)  Accumulation of buying food builds up too.  2) I drink a lot of orange juice. 

    Coincidentally, I happen to buy unleaded for gas and no pulp for OJ. 

    The funny thing about gas prices is when a person jubilantly explains, “I heard gas prices are three cents cheaper in Circleville!  That’s only twenty-five miles from here!  Let’s go get it, what a deal!”  Somehow people block out the fact that they also burn gas on the way to gas stations.

    Bye. 

  • Yo, yo, yo.  What up? 

    I don’t wear a backpack.  I don’t wash my jeans after wearing them once.  So, as a way that you can get to know me (eh, not really) I have decided to share with you the contents of the jeans that were lying on my bed, after I transfered what I needed over to my new jeans. 

    1 School ID
    1 memo for a school late start schedule
    2 movie stubs (Invincible, Fearless)
    1 club card for the Bibliophiles (book club)
    1 small podiatric appointment reminder card
    4 folded 8×11 inch school related papers
    1 business card for the University of Evansville
    1 empty package of Wrigley’s Orbit Chewing Gum
    10 empty Orbit Chewing Gum wrappers
    1 full smashed piece of Orbit Chewing Gum
    1 aluminum lining to the Orbit Chewing Gum package
    1 receipt from Kroger for 5 bags of Crystal Ice, totaling $4.95
    1 school pass to room 106 on 9/21/06 during 7th period
    1 folded dollar bill
    85 cents in change (3 quarters, 2 nickels, 5 pennies)
    5 pencils (4 mechanical, 1 regular)
    1 half-sheet for directing freshmen on a scavenger hunt in the media center
    1 sheet of fill-in notes for the teaching “Love Always Trusts”
    1 sheet on starting a outreach for high schoolers
    Lint

    I am wearing other jeans right now that include much more. 

    Does anyone out there utilize their pockets like I do?  This is probably average, I have had much more and much less at my pants at other times.

    Peace out. 

  • “The way I see it, instead of spending money on A.D.D. medicine I spend money on keys.”

    - My mom, this morning while looking for her seemingly always lost keys, realizing the reason she loses her keys is her A.D.D.

  • step1plus2: I think you don’t get the purpose of away messages
    LAsym21: yeah, i bet it’s so people can see me state the obvious that i am “away”
    LAsym21: you know, that’s actually a redundant text
    LAsym21: because the away message itself indicates that truth
    step1plus2: no, it’s so you can give some specifics, such as where you are, or more importantly when you will be back or how to contact you
    LAsym21: lol im always at my house
    LAsym21: i could put up: (my last name) - white pages
    LAsym21: hilliard phonebook
    LAsym21: when i will be back?
    LAsym21: what, do i think people will be waiting for me?
    step1plus2: I mean, you have interesting intentions, but I do not look to other people’s away messages for my daily inspiration
    LAsym21: haha, why not
    LAsym21: it’s what keeps me alive
    LAsym21: do you sit by your computer anxiously cussing and screaming, “WHEN IS PHIL COMING BACK?!? DARN HIS STUPID AWAY MESSAGES!!! I NEED HIS LOVE!!!”
    step1plus2: no, but I usually read everyone’s when I sign on
    LAsym21: everyones?
    LAsym21: i look at maybe 2 or 4
    step1plus2: I’m going through them: “Ahh, Andrea’s writing a paper, don’t bother her, Steve says he’s just messing around, I’ll see how he’s doing… Oh look, Phil’s away message says that a true friend is one to whom you can think aloud.  Whaddya know, that’s really helpful.”
    LAsym21: so it works
    LAsym21: good
    step1plus2: heh

  • I do say, it’s time for a thought!

    I like to do good things and not do bad things.  Thus, I drink my gallon of water a day, recycle, and wear my seatbelt.  Simple enough to me.  However, the other day in the car I forgot to put on my seatbelt, most likely because I was distracted by something shiny.  Five seconds later, as I was pulling out of the driveway, I realized my seatbelt was unbuckled because of a little red light on my dashboard.  Of course I caught note of it, but I then thought, “Is this little red light what people’s lives are depending on?”  Assuming the seatbelt is the main faculty for preserving one’s life in case of an accident, why is the reminder to employ this lifesaving device more subtle than the lyrics to a scream song?  This is our odd culture: where a noisy, seismic reaction occurs to our cell phones everytime a friend wants to reach us, and a dim, dime-sized light indicates we ought to consider protecting our lives while in an automobile.  And it isn’t all that uncorrectable.  Why not have a slime gun on the dashboard that sprays the driver if someone isn’t wearing a seatbelt?  Eh?  A slime stain to save a life?  I believe I have weighed the values correctly, have I not? 

    Slime needs a use anyways.

    College essays to write, so that’s all for the time being! 

    Blessed with friends is he who can claim he is sad, but not lonely.    

    A goodbye is sad to some, but doesn’t it make our next hello all the sweeter?

  • [doormat] WELCOME [/doormat] 

    A firm handshake is supposed to symbolize respect and a good representation of a person.  But 70% of guys don’t wash their hands after bathroom use.  Regarding this, I don’t care if you have a firm handshake, just wash your hands.  How does that even click in their heads?  Go to bathroom, don’t wash your hands, then shake someone’s hand firmly and think, “This is proper etiquette.”  Yes, that makes sense.  Just like brake-checking a semi makes sense. 

    So photographs of the baby of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were finally released to the press and revealed on Wednesday.  The one thing I am still trying to figure out is why anyone cares.  Sure babies are great, huray for human life, but why this one in particular?  I feel as though the whole Suri-obsession is a weird phenomenom of caring-because-the-next-person-cares chain reaction.  The whole thing probably started because one friend said to another, “Did you hear?  Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are having a baby!”  The other friend then felt as though they were supposed to care about this distant couple’s baby, and responded “No way!  I can’t wait to see a picture of it once it’s born!”  Soon enough everyone started pretending to care, but deep down inside none of them knew why.  And now this baby’s face on a magazine is a bigger deal than gas prices.  

    Perhaps the entire reason America has obsessed over the delay of the publication of this baby’s face is  precisely because Americans want to divert their attention away from real issues, like gas prices.  This could be the subconscious basis behind all attention given to the lives of Hollywood celebrities.  It began as accident, but soon people walking to work began to accept the thought process: “The economy is on the verge of collapse and immigration is overwhelming our country and — but, hey, wait a second, didn’t Vince Vaughn propose?!?!” 

    If Spin City had a spinoff would it be called Spinoff City?

    Sleep well.

  • Let’s talk about something, okay?  Great!

    It is impossible to know because it can in no way be measured, but I would speculate that this generation’s children have less imagination than the last generation’s did. 

    When I was growing up I was homeschooled, and each day when my friend finally came home from school we would go out and play army.  It was worth more than you may think, creating entire worlds all for the sake of traveling them and finding the unknown — which was whatever we invented when we felt like it.  Honestly we invented creatures, worlds, weapons, scenarios, identities — basically everything.  We walked lands you have never seen.  It wasn’t a shallow, one day mission either.  Most of the time we would start a scenario one day and build on it througout the week, adding nuances to enhance the experience, often resulting in complex situations; sometimes we drew or used maps to show how enemy advances were progressing.  All we had were our toy guns.  The rest we imagined.

    My little brother is nine years old and has never played army.  He has beaten a plethora of computer games, some of them multiple times, and could probably recite the programming schedule for Disney and Nickelodeon from 3 PM all the way 10 PM.  I would not blame him entirely — I hang out with him a lot, but other than that he has only one friend (which is all I had, but we got along really well) and is otherwise forced to do what he can around the house, which usually means watch TV or play on the  computer.  Watching television, outside of the educational channels, is one of the lowest forms of activity on the planet.  And he does it for hours and hours — this is his childhood.  Some movies he has watched 10 or 11 times.  Over the summer he watched The Two Towers five times.  A good movie, but it fosters no more imagination to watch it a second time than it does to go and “play outside” (ahh, that phrase dominated my childhood).  His childhood is the exact inverse of mine: in my younger years all I longed for was to get the A-ok from a parent to call my friend to play.  I learned to use the telephone when I was probably about eight and this conversation probably occured thousands of times until fizzling out around age thirteen:

    (Riiiiing)
    Parent of friend: Hello?
    Me:  Hi, is Alex there?
    Parent of friend:  Hold on.
    Me:  Ok.
    Alex:  Hello?
    Me:  Hey, wanna play?
    Alex:  Let me see if I’m allowed.
    (A few moment go by)
    Alex:  Yeah, I can!
    Me:  Sweet, your house or mine?
    Alex:  You can come on over here. 
    Me:  K, bye. 

    After this, anything was game.  Oh, the times! While my childhood flipped between being allowed to “play” and being grounded, my little brother’s flips between the computer and the television.  I try to help.  Sometimes while putting him to bed at night I ask him to give me three variables: person, place, and thing.  With them I produce a story that implements each variable.  But I can only do so much.  His childhood is shaped by multidinous circumstances.  And here is the sad thing:

    I think he is only conforming.  Most kids are becoming more inside-oriented, closed off from the world of adventure I grew up in.  Kids used to loathe school because they longed to be outside, to feel free to roam around the house, to create adventure in their backyards.  Now kids loathe school because they long to be home on their computers, free to roam the internet, to roam the television channels.  

    This deprives them of imagination.  Growing up exercising the imagination gives books their flavor (and it might support my theory that the number of book-readers is declining, which it is).  Heck, growing up exercising the imagination gives life its flavor.

    The imagination is just plain silly fun.  The possibilities are up to the author: in class one day a teacher may be giving a wordy lecture, and I look around to see my classmates sinking in their chairs, so I start to imagine.  Now it’s not just a classroom of kids and a teacher, but Switchfoot is in the front of the room, with a full set of instruments.  They hesitate for only a moment, and then synchronize the start of the obnoxiously loud music with the landing of their jumps.  The image comes in clear, and they rock their best hits only a few feet away from my teacher, who apparently has no clue that she is trying to give a lecture over the greatest lyrics in rock today. 

    Of course I don’t just go around imagining anything, anywhere.  The imagination is not to be cloyed nor interfere with other important things.  I wouldn’t want to miss all the lectures; education is vital too.  Imagination is not meant as an escape from reality, it is an addition to it, meant for the innocuous benefit of exploring what our minds can conceive.   

    This is why I love Calvin & Hobbes and C.S. Lewis.  The wonderful touch of imagination. 

    Choosing imagination means extending the possibilities.  I might even believe that when people grow up without imagination they have the propensity to not listen to other people, and can’t imagine how things could work another way than their own. 

    Am I right?  Are electronics influencing kids to lives of lesser imagination?  To lives with less proclivity to love nature?  To lives that are uninterested in the surrounding world?  Is it as bad as I say it is?  Are other kids like my little brother? Does a lack of imagination give people cold hearts?  Are the days gone when kids had no criteria for friends, except that they have fun together?   

    P.S. Sorry if I cloyed the word “Imagination.” 

    Everything here is underdeveloped, these are just some thoughts. 

    “There are no days in life so memorable as those which vibrated to some stroke of the imagination.”  – Emerson.   

  • Welcome again and always. 

    In regards to my last post: The wheels of mending turn, I have hope for the best there may be.  Thank you all for your concern, so sorry I had to post something sad, but of course I am equally sorry life has to be sad at all.  But that merely makes room for joy, right?

    Back to my observative ramblings:

    Restaurants have destroyed some words for me.  For instance, sunshine.  Notice in what way restaurants has perverted the word, to a friend:  “Ahh, look at the sunshine! …. skillet, with two sausages, eggs the way you like, and hasbrowns.  All fresh ingredients for you to enjoy!”  My friend slowly queries, “Um, what was that?”  I return, “Bob Evans did this to me, and I’ll never forgive him for it.” 

    In my school announcements are often ignored when they occur in the midst of a talkative class, and sometimes it makes me wonder as I survey the room that is so uncaringly disregarding the announcement if the actual case is that I am a paranoid schizophrenic, and the only person actually hearing the voice.  Of course, I have no clue why I would be hearing voices saying that all Juniors should report the auditorium, but that is besides the point.

    One comundrum I often stumble upon is in the act of looking for my glasses.  The very things that help me to see I am deprived of for the very situation where they are most useful: in the act of looking for them. 

    Appreciate all you have, and with that I take my leave.  We part for now, but later unites us.