Seniortisis

It's like elephantisis. Only not.
I'm a senior. It's class colour day*. I'm just now realizing that I'm a senior, and people know I'm a senior, and this is my last year of school. This is the last time that I'm going to be amazed at the sheer number of juniors around me**. This is the las time for all of this, and I'm overcome with a weird sort of nastolgia. I need to do something to make my mark or be memorable or something, anything to be excited about. I need some more colour, we've had a lot of black and white lately. What should I do***?
*Yes, I will get you a pictureof what I'm wearing at some point in time.
**Juniors wear red. It always looks like there's a million of them.
*** Before you say it, no I will not memorize the City on a Hill speach. Or the Cross of Gold speech, or any other prime examples of American oratorial tradition. It's just not happening.

Pterodactyl

I'm working on something of a college essay right now. It's very deep. And the prompt was very, very vauge*. And I'm working with my mommy to complete the college spreadsheet of DOOM. What else am I doing? I'm being hugely determined to finish the stupid horrible drawing TODAY. Even if I have to stay up all night. I slept 'till crazy late, so it shouldn't be that difficult. Waking up for school tomorrow will be fun.

It's just occurred to me that I might have AP Gov homework. Yech. And Lit...I have to make punnery happen. Health, nothing. Gym, nothing. Clothes, though. IR? Work on memorization, which I know that I'm going to fail at. French, nothing.

So I went to Cedar Point yesterday. I rode all the big, attraction coasters (Maverick, Dragster, Millennium Force, etc.) and got some people who really hate roller coasters to go on the Gemini. I hate the Gemini so much. Too much brain shakey. Umm...Other than that...It was fun! Yay! Fun time with fun people.

*Something along the lines of "Tell us about your qualities that contribute to your skills as they apply to our university"**

**Actually, that's way more complex than the prompt was.***

***Holy cow, my footnotes have footnotes! This is jazzhands exciting!

Books are sexy

I think if I mention sex more on the blog, I'll get more google hits. We could make this into an experiment with an if-then statement and a writeup and everything. Party time!*
I haven't blogged in eons, but I'm not really sure why. I've been a little bit down lately. Like, I still have times when I'm over the top slap happy excited, but there's something of an underlying current of negativity. I don't know why.
I'm reading Native Son and Merchant of Venice for AP Lit. Aaaaand today I went to the library for TAB and got a book about animation** and when I checked it out, they said I had a hold and it was...dun dun dun...THE VIRGIN SUICIDES.
Do we remember Middlesex? Oh yes we do. I'll be reading this tomorrow, and hopefully it will be just as good, if not better. However, by my first assessment, it's astonishingly thin. I hate thin books. Unless they're The Great Gatsby. That was good. Or...the Eames book that's earned a permanent place in the bedside collection***. Or...novellas.
Novellas. Mmm...Novella project. What do y'all think is an appropriate wordcount for The Novella Project? Is 30k enough? That's when I always seem to run out of story.

*I'm actually considering doing this.
**Stop motion animation coming at some time or another...whenever I have time, which is basically when I get into college.
***Book lovers never go to bed alone.

Huh.

I'm working on the architectural drawing right this very minute. Party time!
Hm. I must have something interesting to say...thinking, thinking.
I was thinking about death earlier. For a long time, the idea of dying freaked me out, and then I kind of accepted it, but as I was thinking about it again, it started freaking me out again. Any explanation for my sudden regression? Is this a bad thing?
We read this story in Lit, and I really liked it. It was about this crazy guy and it didn't make any sense, but the more I think about it, the more it's growing on me*.
I'm thinking about my NoQuNaNo/The Novella Project. I hope that I'll be able to write it in November, edit it all spring, and then post it next summer in increments. I think we've all talked about how I feel about serialized novels. It's like TV! Only better! And you can read it whenever you want! Talk about JazzHands!
Peterodactyl.
*Like a fungus. But not really.

Quote of the Month

"We artists are indestructible, even in a prison cell or concentration camp I would be almighty in my own world of art. Even if I had to paint my pictures with my wet tongue on the dusty floor of my cell."

Pablo Picasso

I'm just...

I feel...I don't know how I feel. I'm trying to work on art, but nothing's working. I'm going no where. I was going to go for a run tonight, since I've been trying to do that before bed, but then my mom tells me about how she's so worried when I go out late at night and could I at least take Richie? Eugh. Nothing's working. It feels like I'm failing at everything, from Art to Gov to Quiz Bowl. I don't want to go to school. I don't want to do anything, because everything is futile now.
I haven't been blogging as much as I was a week ago. I wrote this one post, but it wasn't any good and it was the kind of thing that makes people worried about you.
I filled six pages of my sketchbook today. I got this new, little sketchbook, so the pages fill a lot faster. I've filled 26 pages since the 2nd of this month. 26 pages, 12 days...there's two hundred pages in the sketchbook. How long until it's filled? You do the math. I'm an art kid. It's around 90 days, isn't it?
I'm kind of done with feeling. Just sort of...feeling empty right now. It'll go away, it always does. I think I need more purpose or more motivation or less apathy or something to break me out of robot mode, which I'm clearly in right now. I feel like there's kind of no purpose to school anymore, it just takes up a lot of time that could be better used for other types of pursuits. During AP Gov, I could be sleeping. I like AP Lit, even when I don't understand three quarters of the things people say. During Health, I could be sleeping or eating sugar filled foods or listening to musical soundtracks on Grooveshark or having sex or smoking pot or doing a variety of things that probably don't contribute to my health in a positive way.* During Gym, I could be gaining skills that will be useful in real life and also not involve sweating and being warm, which I have a personal adversity to. Heck, I could be searching for my spousal visa instead of Gym. My spousal visa to a country where they have longer lifespans and less Gym than the United States. During IR...I like IR. During French...well...I could be sitting in the guidance office, waiting to meet with people about onsite admissions, which I did for forty minutes of a fifty-five minute blockthing today.
I haven't told my parents that I'm doing onsite admissions. Any idea where I might be able to find my social security card? They're being kind of useless about the whole college thing, so I figure that telling them wouldn't do me any good. I wouldn't have told them about like...National Portfolio Review Day if I trusted myself to find the college where it's at all on my own.
While I was wasting time in the guidance office, I found their little pile of Ringling advertisements. Ringling is known for animation... I've been thinking about animation... and RIT is going to be at Portfolio Review, so I can check them out like my art teacher has been urging me to.
I kind of hate this shit.
I kind of think that I would be better off born in a different era, when college wasn't considered such a necessity.
I hate those days when it feels like my life belongs to school. Today was one of those days.
*I still don't get why pot is so bad for you.

Okay, yeah, this is a little...

Weird little juxtaposition of events from school today. In first blockthing, Mr.AP Gov is discussing the emergency drills. In case of fire or bomb threat, turn left, go down the stairs, and go to the far corner of the parking lot. In case of tornado, go in the hallway with a book over your neck to protect from flying er...cardboard. In case of Columbine type shooting, sit in the corner with the lights off and put a sign on the door that says we're in the media center, just in case the shooter is looking for Mr. AP Gov. Unless, of course, one of you is the shooter, in which case, we're actually in the media center. Or maybe that's not the plan.
Here's the big deal: Any one of us could be the shooter. You could be the shooter. I could be the shooter. We could all be the shooter, we could all be the victim.
Then in AP Lit, second blockthing, someone brought up the shooting at the end of Empire Falls. Was the shooting kid just a little messed up, but would have been okay if he had friends, or was he truly a psycho? The thing that I so desperately wanted to say, but I just couldn't (because then they question me even more, then I get sent to the school psychologist again*) was this : They're the same person. There's no difference between the kids who shot up Columbine and every other hi!schooler you know. So what, one of them has friends and the other doesn't? One of them plays violent video games and the other doesn't? One of them is athletic and the other isn't?
What's the big difference?
We're all human. We're all messed up. We're all fighting our private battles, and no one has any idea who we are.
*One benefit of budget cuts - they laid off anyone who is there to talk to me about the problems that I'm crying out for help with, when in reality, they're not problems at all.

Awesum Possum

I could have spelled awesome right, but then it wouldn't visually rhyme.
I got home at 1:55, when school is supposed to end. That was awesome.
I have French last, and I have people in that class. 'Tis awesome. Also, FRANCE.
I have IR before French. It was...okay. The student teacher reminds me of...someone else*...an awful lot.
I have Gym before IR. It's gonna suck.
I have Health before gym. I don't think the teacher likes me very much.
I have Lit before Health. PETER IS IN THIS CLASS, thus, it is amazing. And awesome.
I have Gov before Lit. It's early. Awfully early.
I'm going to finish my objectives and then work on (dun dun dun) art.
Awesum.

Contemplate

It's the eve of my last first day of grade school ever.* I should have something to say, something about friends and learning and everything that's changed me over the years, but I don't. All I can think about is how much I don't want to go tomorrow, how much I don't want to write this stupid AP Gov essay, and how much I would rather be at camp right now. I was there earlier today. It seems wrong that I can move from a place like camp, where I feel at home, to a place where I don't want to be at all and is slowly sucking my soul in less than 24 hours.
The soul sucking is speeding up.
I still don't want to go.
I hate this essay. Hopefully the teacher will think that I don't know how to write and have very low expectations for me. Because that's all that's getting written tonight.
I'm so done with school.
I'm going to work on the architectural/Escher drawing every evening this week until I'm finished with the inking. This will take eons.
*Smile and nod. I know that it didn't make sense.

I woke up ten minutes ago

I don't usually remember my dreams, but this summer, there's been at least five, maybe ten dreams that I remember. They've all been kinda weird. In this one, I was marrying this guy (real person) I've known for a month. And I was getting married in my front yard. Most of the people there were vauge unnamed family members, but I saw a friend's mom there. Apparently this guy is actually my friend's older brother, but they just have never mentioned him in the years I've known my friend. And then I went to the bathroom (the downstairs one, if you were curious) and when I was on my way out, my mom walked up to me and told me that even though it was all a surprise, it would all work out well. And the whole time, I'm asking myself how on Earth I'm going to explain this to Joey.

My Book Review

This is for AP Gov. It's still in progress, so any help you can offer is very welcome.

I am the kind of person who likes books, but I just couldn't stand Hardball.

Hardball's first turn-off to me was the cover. If you're a supermodel or Johnny Depp, it's okay to put a picture of you on the cover of your book. If you're a rather unattractive guy with a bad eye and nose combination, then your picture should be reserved for the back flap. The book is something of a manual for the aspiring politician. Matthews begins by telling us how important it is to meet and make friends with every available person, especially the people who we might come into contact with later in our political carrears. He uses Johnson as an example of someone who, unable to persuade masses of voters, sold his policies retail through connections in Washington. He tried to make those connections when he first got to Washington, introducing himself to every other congressional secretary. Later, when he was elected to congress, he did his research, learning everything there was to know about the habits of his fellow Democratic senators. He would persuade them one by one, that they were the most important person to him and that he cared about the things that they wanted. Johnson was an old style politician, never fully understanding television and the huge role that it would soon play in national politics, and choosing to avoid cameras at a time when many others would have welcomed them. Matthews then moves on to discussing the contrasting strategies of Carter and Regan. Carter, running as an outsider to Washington, never associated with influential Democrats and even sold the presidental yacht, which had been useful in persuading congresmen to pass bits of legislation. Regan was much smarter in his strategy, running on the same kind of outsider platform, yet he managed to make friends with influential people, which ended up being rather useful to him. Next, Matthews goes on to explain how all politics is local, a chapter that can be boiled down to one sentence: No mattter how big you get, don't forget the people who got you there. In the third chapter, we learn how to enlist supporters who care an awful lot about your cause. If they feel as though they've helped you, they're invested in you. Once they're invested in you, they'll do anything to help you win. In this chapter, Matthews uses Carter to explain the perfect way to create a network of supporters. Carter would round up Democratic candidates who had lost their races and enlist them and their supporters. The people who had lost would be looking for something new and someone who wasn't like the standard presidental candidate. Before his candidacy, Carter was a nobody, but this network that he had created made him into someone who was the underdog, with lots of underdog supporters. The Kennedys had a similar strategy, in which they asked their costituants to help them gain office, and when they were elected, they had supporters, not just voters on their side. The next chapter focuses on the party equivilant of being loyal to your voters, which is keeping your promises. If you say you'll never raise taxes, you should never raise taxes, no matter who in washington is pressuring you to do so. Your party helped you get where you are, and you have to do the things they expect you to do. This also means that it's mandatory to associate yourself with the right kind of people. If there's a scandal involving someone who you're close to, the scandal can bring you down too. The next chapter has a very simple point, which is to watch your enemies far more closely than you would ever watch your friends. The sixth chapter follows trend and tells us the entire point of the chapter in the title, which is “Don't get mad; don't get even; get ahead” Instead of getting mad and, most likely, doing something stupid, just ignore it and move on. Matthews uses the example of a campaign manager on a vandetta to get rid of a former employer. He was successful, but it was unnessecary and, frankly, quite silly. At the end of the chapter, he uses an example of Newt Gingrich causing the shut down of the government all because he had to sit at the back of Air Force One. Matthews hits the point home that getting even in politics will only succeed in making you look foolish. The next chapter focuses on how to react when you're criticized. Matthews reccomends catching everything thrown at you and either refuting it or admitting to it and doing your very best to spin it. One way to spin things is to hang a lantern on your defects. If you're not from washington and you aren't nearly as influential as other candidates, you say that you don't come from washington and you're just a regular guy, someone they can identify with. The next chapter is obvious in it's point, but so many people miss it. No one, especially not a politician, should ever talk unless they know they're going to say something that makes them look smart. When you're silent, you're always the smartest one in the room. When you dare to open your mouth, it gets to be questionable. The chapter after this focuses on how to persuade others, agreeing with them on point after point, and then bringing them over to your side for a single point, the one thing you disagree upon. The next chapter focuses on the exact same thing as the third chapter ago, in reacting to criticism. Most authors would have combined reiterative chapters, but not our dear friend Matthews. Nope, he gives us the same stupid message over and over. Thanks for that. The next chapter goes on and on about the same concept, spinning news so that it suits your interests. The rest of the stupidest fucking book that I've ever read goes on and on about the. Same. Exact. Thing.

No one cares. Also, the author is ugly.

Very True.

I'd also probably demand that the older version of myself take me to Hogwarts, because-- let's be honest-- if time travel exists and Hogwarts doesn't, the universe doesn't have its priorities in order.
HayleyGHoover