I'm all the time thinking I'm so much cooler than everyone around me, and I have to let them no it by being the smartest, strongest, and funniest thing since Calvin Coolidge, put together. Recently, however, I've become aware that I am fundamentally insecure, and I'm all freaked out about making sure nobody knows about the ugliness I see inside. That's where the pride comes from. I try and hide my many faults, end up overcompensating, and come off as prideful and arrogant, which I recognize and add to my list of things wrong with me as a person.
While my self-image may be somewhat skewed by my history as a really mean kid, which I deplore about myself, there is a lot of truth to be found in my insecurity. Theologically, it's all about the depravity of man. I am, as a human being, naturally inclined to evil. I am flawed. I am a hopeless case of selfishness. And, in a way, it's good that I recognize that about myself. Amazing grace saved a wretch like me, not a basically good person like me. Paul was all vibin' on that.
The epiphany I had the other day was that I am insecure, but not humble. I still have to learn that it's okay that i'm scumm and that I don't need to hide behind my own puffed-up coolty.
(The word SCUMM in the last paragraph, by the bye, is a very, very oblique reference to the Script Creation Utility for Maniac Mansion, with which most of my game collection was made. Adventure games forever!)
So, yes. I looked up and saw that it was a blue moon, and since I write a deep post about once in every one of those, I figured it was time to plumb the slimy depths of my tattered soul and dreg up something for all y'alls enjoyment.
Incidentally, senioritis is running rampant at the moment. Only three days of compulsory schooling left... ever!
Friday, June 01, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Melancholy Post #54
My room is rank with the stench of dying flowers from last weekend's recital. It's quite depressing, really. My last recital is over. Forever.
For the few people who I have not yet regaled with this tale, I'll tell it again, briefly. At dress rehearsal, I slipped and fell in the middle of Swan Lake. At the first show (which, of course, was the one that was videotaped), my left pointe shoe slipped off my heel, which is pretty terrifying. As the piece went on, the entire shoe slipped off my foot and hung from my ankle like a ball and chain. I finished out the piece as best I could, cranking up the smile more and more as the thrice-accursed shoe slipped further and further off my foot. For the rest of the weekend, I was completely paranoid and continually and compulsively adjusted my shoe.
Sunday night, at the last curtain call, I did something I'd always thought would be fantastic. I strutted out there wearing the white swan lake tutu from Ballet IV, walking gracefully in my pointe shoes- and the bright orange top from my Modern IV costume. It seemed to me that the applause doubled in volume when I came out.
After the show, clutching my flowers, I retreated to the shop behind the stage, which, every year, dancers have been running through to get to stage right in time for their entrances. I burst into tears. I cried for the better part of a half-hour. Sobbed, in fact. I was joined, before long, by other seniors and some hangers-on who wanted to comfort us.
I really ought to get rid of these rotting flowers, but it feels like they're the last remnant of my time at Hosanna.
I keep forgetting that I still have until August.
For the few people who I have not yet regaled with this tale, I'll tell it again, briefly. At dress rehearsal, I slipped and fell in the middle of Swan Lake. At the first show (which, of course, was the one that was videotaped), my left pointe shoe slipped off my heel, which is pretty terrifying. As the piece went on, the entire shoe slipped off my foot and hung from my ankle like a ball and chain. I finished out the piece as best I could, cranking up the smile more and more as the thrice-accursed shoe slipped further and further off my foot. For the rest of the weekend, I was completely paranoid and continually and compulsively adjusted my shoe.
Sunday night, at the last curtain call, I did something I'd always thought would be fantastic. I strutted out there wearing the white swan lake tutu from Ballet IV, walking gracefully in my pointe shoes- and the bright orange top from my Modern IV costume. It seemed to me that the applause doubled in volume when I came out.
After the show, clutching my flowers, I retreated to the shop behind the stage, which, every year, dancers have been running through to get to stage right in time for their entrances. I burst into tears. I cried for the better part of a half-hour. Sobbed, in fact. I was joined, before long, by other seniors and some hangers-on who wanted to comfort us.
I really ought to get rid of these rotting flowers, but it feels like they're the last remnant of my time at Hosanna.
I keep forgetting that I still have until August.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Graduation announcement
This is the exact text that will be on the announcements/invitations that I need to send out soon. Just for fun, since it's recital weekend, and I really am not able to engage my brain long enough to come up with anything insightful at the moment. So I'll settle for something preexisting that is somewhat clever. Here it goes:
Edit: The party's actually off. Never mind the content, just enjoy the verse. Here it goes:
Eleven years of toil spent in school
Now finished! And, to celebrate the day,
Iambic greetings send we to our friends
To say, “Come, revel on the tenth of June,
‘Twixt the hours of two o’clock and six!”
The Honors I have earned may yet serve well,
As ought North Scholar. All in but three years!
‘Tis but the dawn of life’s first journeys forth
Into a wider world –Slovakia,
Where I will be soon dwelling for a year.
In this last couplet, I entreat thee, come
And with me celebrate what I’ve become.
Edit: The party's actually off. Never mind the content, just enjoy the verse. Here it goes:
Eleven years of toil spent in school
Now finished! And, to celebrate the day,
Iambic greetings send we to our friends
To say, “Come, revel on the tenth of June,
‘Twixt the hours of two o’clock and six!”
The Honors I have earned may yet serve well,
As ought North Scholar. All in but three years!
‘Tis but the dawn of life’s first journeys forth
Into a wider world –Slovakia,
Where I will be soon dwelling for a year.
In this last couplet, I entreat thee, come
And with me celebrate what I’ve become.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Pass the Ketchup, 'Cause I'm Eating My Words
I went to prom last night.
I had a lot of fun.
I realize now that high school doesn't totally blow, it's just that I didn't try to make it fun.
Friday, I called to make a reservation at Ambrosia, to which my parents had a gift certificate which they donated to us. I asked for a 6:00 reservation.
"Well, we don't actually have a 6:00 slot open."
"Oh."
"But we give you a 20-minute grace period before we give away your table, which gets you to 5:50, and then if you called and said you were running a few minutes late, then we'd definitely hold your table until 6:00."
So on Saturday, Ryan showed up at my house in his Jetta and a tux. We got in the car, which, mysteriously and suddenly, refused to start. Half an hour later, I was pulling my parents' new hybrid out of the garage.
"I love your parents," said Ryan.
We went and picked up classmate Bobby, who, despite being a cool dude, inexplicably didn't have a date and would be coming with us for dinner. I tried to make the car tell us which way the restaurant was, since none of us had any idea, but for some reason she thought that another restaurant called Ambrosia in Seattle would be a better place for us to eat and was desperately trying to get us on the freeway. We ultimately found the place, no thanks to the car's navigation chick, but I had to call them again and say we would be even later than I had already said we would be. The restaurant was full of other high schoolers headed to prom a couple of blocks away.
"Hey, how'd you get two dates?" one girl asked jokingly.
"Well, the others couldn't make it," I answered, smiling dazzlingly. Well, at least it felt dazzling. Wit and makeup make me feel dazzling when combined properly.
Ultimately, we walked to the MacDonald Theatre, dropping off our leftovers in the trunk on the way. A number of students were already waiting for the doors to open. One girl had already taken her shoes off.
The dance, though it contained relatively little true dancing, was really strangely fun. The three of us largely stayed together the whole time. After four hours of moshing in high heels (try it sometime. It's no picnic), we hit the coat check and then went to get some milkshakes at Shari's. We dropped Bobby off and went home to see about Ryan's car, which they subsequently managed to jump start.
I'm really still just surprised that I didn't end up sitting in a corner alone the whole time.
I had a lot of fun.
I realize now that high school doesn't totally blow, it's just that I didn't try to make it fun.
Friday, I called to make a reservation at Ambrosia, to which my parents had a gift certificate which they donated to us. I asked for a 6:00 reservation.
"Well, we don't actually have a 6:00 slot open."
"Oh."
"But we give you a 20-minute grace period before we give away your table, which gets you to 5:50, and then if you called and said you were running a few minutes late, then we'd definitely hold your table until 6:00."
So on Saturday, Ryan showed up at my house in his Jetta and a tux. We got in the car, which, mysteriously and suddenly, refused to start. Half an hour later, I was pulling my parents' new hybrid out of the garage.
"I love your parents," said Ryan.
We went and picked up classmate Bobby, who, despite being a cool dude, inexplicably didn't have a date and would be coming with us for dinner. I tried to make the car tell us which way the restaurant was, since none of us had any idea, but for some reason she thought that another restaurant called Ambrosia in Seattle would be a better place for us to eat and was desperately trying to get us on the freeway. We ultimately found the place, no thanks to the car's navigation chick, but I had to call them again and say we would be even later than I had already said we would be. The restaurant was full of other high schoolers headed to prom a couple of blocks away.
"Hey, how'd you get two dates?" one girl asked jokingly.
"Well, the others couldn't make it," I answered, smiling dazzlingly. Well, at least it felt dazzling. Wit and makeup make me feel dazzling when combined properly.
Ultimately, we walked to the MacDonald Theatre, dropping off our leftovers in the trunk on the way. A number of students were already waiting for the doors to open. One girl had already taken her shoes off.
The dance, though it contained relatively little true dancing, was really strangely fun. The three of us largely stayed together the whole time. After four hours of moshing in high heels (try it sometime. It's no picnic), we hit the coat check and then went to get some milkshakes at Shari's. We dropped Bobby off and went home to see about Ryan's car, which they subsequently managed to jump start.
I'm really still just surprised that I didn't end up sitting in a corner alone the whole time.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Rotary District Conference- Part "the rest"
So I decided it was too much work to give you the play-by-play of my weekend. So here are the highlights in handy bullet-point format.
Saturday
Now, for something completely different, I will relate a tale related to me, in turn, by my dear sister, Tanner.
Apparently, Kerry came up to her in dance and said "Can you say I'm the coolest thing since sliced bread? "Tanner, in her infinite wisdom, recalled a statement I had made recently, and responded, "No. Aubrianne is the coolest thing since sliced bread."
"Oh." Kerry said morosely. "Well, can you say I'm the coolest thing since Aubrianne?"
Yay for Kerry. That was exactly the best answer possible. You will receive your free t-shirt in the mail within 6-8 months.
On a similarly random note, I am going to Prom on Saturday.
Saturday
- Sat around all day.
- Talent showed. Ostensibly supposed to begin at 8:30, the award thingie preceding us went long. Very long. By the time we started, the buses were waiting to take us to...
- Back to the house. Primped to go to...
- The "dance". Which was actually in a bowling alley. The plan was for us to stay there all night, partying. However, I and several of my cronies raised Cain, saying that we had AP test this week, and we could possibly stay up all night, thank you very much. So around 2:30, the most praiseworthy Giff rescued us whiners and took us to...
- Their house in Sunriver, where, upon entering, he informed us we could avail ourselves of the hot tub if we chose. So, for all my moaning about staying up all night, I found myself at three thirty AM in a hot tub with three guys, only one of whom had thought to pack some swim trunks. The scene was thus: Me, in my 'kini, which was all I had thought to pack, that kid Gary, bound for Sweden next year, in his undies, Victor, who's going to Chile, wearing a pair of trunks, and Albin, from Sweden, also in his undies. Yep. It was a good time.
- Next morning-slept all the way home.
Now, for something completely different, I will relate a tale related to me, in turn, by my dear sister, Tanner.
Apparently, Kerry came up to her in dance and said "Can you say I'm the coolest thing since sliced bread? "Tanner, in her infinite wisdom, recalled a statement I had made recently, and responded, "No. Aubrianne is the coolest thing since sliced bread."
"Oh." Kerry said morosely. "Well, can you say I'm the coolest thing since Aubrianne?"
Yay for Kerry. That was exactly the best answer possible. You will receive your free t-shirt in the mail within 6-8 months.
On a similarly random note, I am going to Prom on Saturday.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Rotary District Conference- Part Two
For part one, see yesterday, for parts three through ___, see tomorrow.
Friday, we woke up and, for a time, the house echoed with the sounds of girls showering, blow drying, make-uping, eating, and whining about the polos we were expected to wear- some of which came down to the knees of their unfortunate wearers. Finally, we piled into the car and drove back to the conference center, where we sat in the dungeon until called forth into the meeting. We were paraded across the stage with the flags of our respective countries, then sat through several hours of Rotarians telling other Rotarians how great Rotary is. We were finally released back into the dungeon for an hour or so before lunch.
"One student to a table," they said. I found a table to myself near the corner just in time for the doors to open and the room to flood with hungry Rotarians. I ended up between a man from India and some guy named Bill. Throughout the meal, Bill would occasionally go on a tirade about the political party he was planning to set up to revolutionize the world, using Rotary both to promote his system and as a model for the way things would be run. Since I was being paid, essentially, to make a good impression, I sat and listened politely, nodding and making listening noises occasionally. Since I felt as though I had done noting but eat all weekend (even though it was only Friday,) I only ate about 2/3 of the food offered. During desert, some terribly important guy from Thailand came up and spoke for a very long time. All the while, the remaining 1/3 of my cake was sitting on the table (on a plate, obviously. They were at least that classy) tempting me.
After lunch, we were permitted to go back into the dungeon and change back into real-people clothes before setting off for a nearby bowling alley, where I played a couple of frames, getting steadily worse as the afternoon wore on. We eventually returned to the conference for "talent show rehearsal". In other words, we sat around in the dungeon for a very long time.
We finally were driven back to the house, where we ate a nice meal and sat around talking about different countries' attitude toward nudity, which lead to several embarrassing stories. Before you ask, I have no idea how the topic came up. Ultimately, after some ice cream, we slept.
Friday, we woke up and, for a time, the house echoed with the sounds of girls showering, blow drying, make-uping, eating, and whining about the polos we were expected to wear- some of which came down to the knees of their unfortunate wearers. Finally, we piled into the car and drove back to the conference center, where we sat in the dungeon until called forth into the meeting. We were paraded across the stage with the flags of our respective countries, then sat through several hours of Rotarians telling other Rotarians how great Rotary is. We were finally released back into the dungeon for an hour or so before lunch.
"One student to a table," they said. I found a table to myself near the corner just in time for the doors to open and the room to flood with hungry Rotarians. I ended up between a man from India and some guy named Bill. Throughout the meal, Bill would occasionally go on a tirade about the political party he was planning to set up to revolutionize the world, using Rotary both to promote his system and as a model for the way things would be run. Since I was being paid, essentially, to make a good impression, I sat and listened politely, nodding and making listening noises occasionally. Since I felt as though I had done noting but eat all weekend (even though it was only Friday,) I only ate about 2/3 of the food offered. During desert, some terribly important guy from Thailand came up and spoke for a very long time. All the while, the remaining 1/3 of my cake was sitting on the table (on a plate, obviously. They were at least that classy) tempting me.
After lunch, we were permitted to go back into the dungeon and change back into real-people clothes before setting off for a nearby bowling alley, where I played a couple of frames, getting steadily worse as the afternoon wore on. We eventually returned to the conference for "talent show rehearsal". In other words, we sat around in the dungeon for a very long time.
We finally were driven back to the house, where we ate a nice meal and sat around talking about different countries' attitude toward nudity, which lead to several embarrassing stories. Before you ask, I have no idea how the topic came up. Ultimately, after some ice cream, we slept.
Rotary District Conference- Part One
Thursday, I went to school for a couple of hours, having spent much of the previous night packing. (I was very proud of having fit EVERYTHING into one bag, including sleeping bag and pillow.) I hopped into the car with my parents, drove across town, picked up a bunch of other kids, including inbounds from Germany and Belgium, and drove for about three hours, stopping only once for a visit to the world's most vomit-inducingly unsanitary rest stop, and finally arrived at this nice, new conference center. We all disembarked, said goodbye, and lugged our luggage inside, where, near both a prodigious fireplace and a waterfall that spanned two floors, we received nametags and packets full of junk inexplicably advertising this conference we were already attending. My nametag, unfortunately, was misspelled "Aubrienne", so I spent a good quarter-hour trying to get it fixed by a particularly loquacious registrar-type guy. Finally, with my slightly smeared, but correctly spelled nametag in tow, we were ushered downstairs, past the silent auction and behind a curtain into a very odd space indeed. The walls were lined with empty cardboard boxes with "Office Furniture" stamped on them, and a large section of the floor was covered in neat rows of these boxes, perhaps two hundred in all. The floor was cold, plain concrete, but at least someone had thought to use one of the mysterious boxes as a table for some store-brand granola bars. Throughout the course of the weekend, whenever we were not needed, we were herded down here into what I will affectionately refer to as "the dungeon".
Shortly after our arrival, we outbounds were pulled aside to be given our official Rotary blazers, complete with an embroidered Rotary Youth Exchange logo, a unisex (aka elephant-sized) white polo with the same logo, and a name badge in the shape of Oregon. Interestingly, my name was spelled "Aubriann" on the badge. We were told that we were to wear these all the next day, along with the khaki pants we had brought and the "rotary smile" that we were expected to be able to muster up, despite looking like four-year-olds playing dress up with their dad's old clothes that went way out of style a decade ago ("Mommy, look! I'm a pilot!").
In all fairness, these people are paying thousands of dollars to send me and my comrades all over the world. The basic point of the weekend was not that we have a good time, but that we be paraded out on stage to show these people who their money's going to.
We were then given several hours of "free time", where we sat around the dungeon, sometimes sneaking out into the silent auction to nab some of the chocolate, popcorn, coffee or tea that had been set out for the Rotarians. Over the course of the weekend, I managed to make off with six teabags of assorted flavors. Eventually, we were told to come upstairs to meet with the families that would be hosting us for the weekend. One by one, my fellows were picked up by strangers, until finally there were only fourteen girls left. We were told that we would all be staying in a rental house that Rotary had managed to acquire for the weekend, since they couldn't get enough host families. We arrived, unloaded our suitcases, and left to get dinner at the Mongolian Grill.
This particular establishment provided relatively decent foodstuffs, but as I poured my sixth ladle-full of lemon sauce on the stack of noodles I had pieced together, my converse slipped and stuck in the remains of others' Mongolian endeavors. Leftovers in tow, we trooped back into the cars and set off for the house, where we were offered yet more food, mostly desert-like. Eventually, we settled in to sleep in various bedrooms around the house.
To be continued...
Shortly after our arrival, we outbounds were pulled aside to be given our official Rotary blazers, complete with an embroidered Rotary Youth Exchange logo, a unisex (aka elephant-sized) white polo with the same logo, and a name badge in the shape of Oregon. Interestingly, my name was spelled "Aubriann" on the badge. We were told that we were to wear these all the next day, along with the khaki pants we had brought and the "rotary smile" that we were expected to be able to muster up, despite looking like four-year-olds playing dress up with their dad's old clothes that went way out of style a decade ago ("Mommy, look! I'm a pilot!").
In all fairness, these people are paying thousands of dollars to send me and my comrades all over the world. The basic point of the weekend was not that we have a good time, but that we be paraded out on stage to show these people who their money's going to.
We were then given several hours of "free time", where we sat around the dungeon, sometimes sneaking out into the silent auction to nab some of the chocolate, popcorn, coffee or tea that had been set out for the Rotarians. Over the course of the weekend, I managed to make off with six teabags of assorted flavors. Eventually, we were told to come upstairs to meet with the families that would be hosting us for the weekend. One by one, my fellows were picked up by strangers, until finally there were only fourteen girls left. We were told that we would all be staying in a rental house that Rotary had managed to acquire for the weekend, since they couldn't get enough host families. We arrived, unloaded our suitcases, and left to get dinner at the Mongolian Grill.
This particular establishment provided relatively decent foodstuffs, but as I poured my sixth ladle-full of lemon sauce on the stack of noodles I had pieced together, my converse slipped and stuck in the remains of others' Mongolian endeavors. Leftovers in tow, we trooped back into the cars and set off for the house, where we were offered yet more food, mostly desert-like. Eventually, we settled in to sleep in various bedrooms around the house.
To be continued...
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Not feelin' so hot....
Well, unfortunately, several of the shiny things that I blogged ebulliently about last week are pretty well dead.
The AP Japanese test? Sorry, no. The dude at Churchill called and told me that they couldn't give the Japanese test after all, and no other school in the state that is giving the test can admit an extra student. So, barring a miracle and a school in Washington somewhere having someone drop out from taking the test, my 12 years of Japanese will all be for naught. Well, not naught, but not college credit.
The Vivaldi? Guess when the concert is. That's right. The night of dress rehearsal for the recital. Before then, I need to invent a time machine so I can be in two places at once. All I have to do is find a way to travel at right angles to reality, and I should be set.
Unfortunately, I have 5/3 of a chapter of history and a 1000+ word essay due Monday, so the time machine will have to wait until next weekend.
Just kidding. Next weekend is some Rotary district meeting thing, including a talent show. For reasons I cannot fathom, "weekend" in this sense includes both Thursday and Friday.
And it's only gonna get busier. I have to get a job this summer.
I'm $10,000 a year short of Whitworth.
For these and other reasons, I burst into tears the other night in ballet and then came home and literally cried myself to sleep.
The good news:
Jeff Harris gave me a CD by E.S. Posthumous, which is awesome.
I somehow found someone to go to prom with me.
I watched Stranger than Fiction last night. Excellent film. I'll post my family's discussion of it some other time.
Mom made bread pudding for breakfast this morning. Nothing like carbs, sugar and fat all in one convenient, delicious food.
The AP Japanese test? Sorry, no. The dude at Churchill called and told me that they couldn't give the Japanese test after all, and no other school in the state that is giving the test can admit an extra student. So, barring a miracle and a school in Washington somewhere having someone drop out from taking the test, my 12 years of Japanese will all be for naught. Well, not naught, but not college credit.
The Vivaldi? Guess when the concert is. That's right. The night of dress rehearsal for the recital. Before then, I need to invent a time machine so I can be in two places at once. All I have to do is find a way to travel at right angles to reality, and I should be set.
Unfortunately, I have 5/3 of a chapter of history and a 1000+ word essay due Monday, so the time machine will have to wait until next weekend.
Just kidding. Next weekend is some Rotary district meeting thing, including a talent show. For reasons I cannot fathom, "weekend" in this sense includes both Thursday and Friday.
And it's only gonna get busier. I have to get a job this summer.
I'm $10,000 a year short of Whitworth.
For these and other reasons, I burst into tears the other night in ballet and then came home and literally cried myself to sleep.
The good news:
Jeff Harris gave me a CD by E.S. Posthumous, which is awesome.
I somehow found someone to go to prom with me.
I watched Stranger than Fiction last night. Excellent film. I'll post my family's discussion of it some other time.
Mom made bread pudding for breakfast this morning. Nothing like carbs, sugar and fat all in one convenient, delicious food.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Shiny news!
One big piece of news and four small ones.
"Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail."
-Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.
Don't ask why I was reading it in April...
- In Japanese, Patrick Sensei pulled aside the smart kids (e.g. me and all the kids with Japanese parents) and said that we were going to learn the 450ish kanji required for the AP Japanese test. Now, I am the only one taking the test, and I would have had to learn them anyway, but now I have specially sanctioned classtime to do it in rather than wasting my precious sleeping time on it. Huzzah!
- Orchestra. Johnny (the second most qualified cellist) and I have been working on Vivaldi Concerto in G minor for 2 Celli for the past few months with the intention of playing it at the end of the year concert. Wednesday, the rest of the orchestra got their parts for the piece, so I will be playing with a whole orchestra accompaniment. I need to practice before I can get too excited, though. Huzzah anyway!
- Japanese again. At the start of class, Patrick sort of pulled me aside and told me (in Japanese, of course) that he had nominated me for some award for foreign language students. "You'll probably get it," he said. Actually, he said, 「たぶん、もらえる。」 but I knew what he meant. Huzzah!
- Report cards came. I had been anticipating an unprecedented two B's, one in AP English and one in AP History, but when the envelope was opened, low and behold, I had three A's and two A-'s. Not half bad. Huzzah!
- Ok, here's the big one. I received an email that informed me of my fate for the next year. I will be staying in the city of Banska Bystrica in Slovakia. Yay for mountains! It's about the same size as Eugene, and even has a university. It was also the center of anti-Nazi activism during WWII. What with the political activism and all, it sounds an awful lot like Eugene, but about 700 years older and a lot snowier. Just in time to tell all those lovely Rotary folks at this weekend's meeting. Super Huzzah!
"Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail."
-Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.
Don't ask why I was reading it in April...
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Mary Poppins Bag
I'm cleaning out my purse tonight. Always eager to dispose of as many of both birds and stones as possible, I am posting a list of its contents. Lists are excellent blog fodder: easy to write without all that tedious engaging of the neural synapses. Psychoanalyze away.
Things that aren't in my purse at the moment, but have been recently:
Now you know why I was cleaning it. That mess was heavy. I could have lived through a Russian winter on the teabags alone.
- Hand Sanitizer- Warm Vanilla Sugar scented
- A mint teabag
- Planner
- Reminder for last week's Orchestra field trip
- Checkbook, including receipts from lunch at the Safeway next to my school, my AP tests, Buffalo Exchange, Fred Meyer, and Paintball Palace.
- A leotard (dirty)
- A lemon ginger teabag
- My Creative Zen (aka FauxPod)
- Two programs from church
- Keys
- Another mint teabag
- Three (3) granola bar wrappers (incidentally, bought at Safeway)
- A second lemon ginger teabag
- My Life, by Isadora Duncan
- A CD that my friend asked me to bring to my dad for the recital
- A "Mint Medley" teabag
- Cell Phone
- Bookmark, sans book
- A third lemon ginger teabag
- Headphones
- A fold-up-able umbrella (never been used)
- A set of blank notecards
- A plain old lemon teabag. The package says "Lemon Lift", but it's actually plain old lemon.
- Colloquial Slovak, by James Naughton
- 7 pens and pencils, ranging from a highlighter to a golf pencil.
- Dove "cool essentials" deodorant. Apparently it is "Ultimate Clear".
- A packet of Emergen-C
- Cello Rosin (cracked)
- A Japanese fan
- a toothpick (used)
- A fourth lemon ginger teabag
- The official DMV Guide to Provisional Driver License Restrictions
- Burt's Bees lip balm, in plain, champagne, and nutmeg
- Two tootsie roll wrappers
- Six dollars (Cash)
- A cello mute
- Nine hair clips
- A large binder clip
- a button that came off of my dress last week
- Sixty-two cents in change
- 3 ponytail holders
- Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion
Things that aren't in my purse at the moment, but have been recently:
- Three apples (They weren't that good. I gave them away.)
- Metronome (I took it out because it started ticking... and someone yelled "BOMB!")
- A Kanji dictionary (I put it in my school bag)
- The cord to my lappy (if it were in my purse, then I couldn't be posting this now)
Now you know why I was cleaning it. That mess was heavy. I could have lived through a Russian winter on the teabags alone.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
An Emo Post.
At this point, I don't know who I am, exactly. Up to this point, I have been Aubrianne: dancer, cellist, flinger of witticisms, fairly good looking, and generally okay. Who knows, however, who I will be next year.
I know that this means my identity is misplaced, since, if I were centering myself around being a child of God, I would be fine when everything else in my life changes as it's about to.
I've been going through some sort of identity crisis lately. I have come to the conclusion that I am less afraid of leaving my surroundings than I am of losing myself, shucking the things I used to define myself by like an ear of corn. What will be left? Not a creamy nougat center, I'd wager.
I worry about leaving people and places pretty much to the extent that I define myself by them.
Who am I?
I know the right answer, but for once it's not enough.
I know that this means my identity is misplaced, since, if I were centering myself around being a child of God, I would be fine when everything else in my life changes as it's about to.
I've been going through some sort of identity crisis lately. I have come to the conclusion that I am less afraid of leaving my surroundings than I am of losing myself, shucking the things I used to define myself by like an ear of corn. What will be left? Not a creamy nougat center, I'd wager.
I worry about leaving people and places pretty much to the extent that I define myself by them.
Who am I?
I know the right answer, but for once it's not enough.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
A post a week?
I have recently come to the conclusion that the "one post a week" rule currently informally in place within the Carson extended family is entirely fallacious. If I have nothing to say, I shouldn't waste my time and yours trying to come up with something that will not turn out to be entertaining, insightful, or edifying. On the other hand, one should probably have at least one entertaining, insightful, or edifying thought worth articulating per week. However, I am hereby declaring my renunciation of making up fluffy posts with no substance just so I can say that I have posted this week.
Incidentally, today is one such day. I have nothing to say, but I said it brilliantly. (Oscar Wilde said that. Either that or Dr. Who. One of the two.)
Incidentally, today is one such day. I have nothing to say, but I said it brilliantly. (Oscar Wilde said that. Either that or Dr. Who. One of the two.)
Friday, April 06, 2007
Tag, I'm It.
I have been tagged with this survey thing by my dear Aunt Cathy. Never one to pass up an opportunity to go on and on about myself, I am posting it here.
1. What time is it?
11:43 when I started this madness, 12:15 when I finished.
2. Name (include any nicknames):
Aubrianne MacKenzie Carson. My parents certainly didn't scrimp on syllables. Nicknames: Aub, Baub, Baubitt, Bibbidy Baubitty Boo, Bibbit, Auby-Bauby (an old one, c. 7th grade)
3. What are you most afraid of?
Being inferior.
4. What do you drive?
White Dodge Caravan, baby!
5. Have you ever seen a ghost?
No... but in elementary school my friend told me she had. I laughed at her.
6. Where were you born?
Sacred Heart Hospital, Eugene, Oregon, USA, Earth.
7. Ever been to Alaska ?
No.
8. Ever been toilet papering, or rolling in decorating trees?
No. I live a dull life.
9. Croutons or bacon bits?
Croutons, with or without salad.
10. Favorite day of the week?
No.
11 FAVORITE RESTURANT?
Cafe Yumm. I like the Yumm baby and the edamame Yumm. Rice kicks butt!
12. Favorite flowers?
Ummm... not carnations. Those things just look fake. I like lilies, I guess.
13. Favorite sport to watch?
Dance is a sport. Anyone who says otherwise can convince me by getting a football team to wear pointe shoes without complaining.
14. Favorite Drink
Various tea-related cold beverages, but not just iced tea.
15. Favorite Ice cream:
I have recently decided to eat ice cream despite my lactose intolerance, so, for the first time in my life, I have an actual answer to this question! In my opinion, it's hard to go wrong with a good vanilla.
16. Favorite fast food restaurant:
Eaugh. Why don't you just deep fry my soul while you're at it?
17. Hobbies?
Aside from the obvious dance and cello, I enjoy crocheting, origami, reading PG Wodehouse (favorite author of the week), reading Douglas Adams, reading almost anything I can get my hands on, eating, playing "classic" (i.e. old) Lucasarts adventure games (They have done nothing but Star Wars for far too long. Just who do they think they are, trying to make money? Sheesh.), exploring unusual relationships to gravity, sleeping, and boiling water in my 'lectric kettle.
18. What color is your bedroom carpet?
Dirt color. Not because it's dirty, it came that way. At least this way I don't have to vacuum.
19. How many times you failed your driver's test?
None. Ha!
20. From whom did you get your last email?
Someone who had some update about some Rotary exchange thing.
21. What do you do most often if you are bored?
See hobbies and TV shows.
22. Bedtime?
No.
23: Favorite TV show(s):
Mythbusters, Dharma and Greg, Whose Line is it Anyway?, Scrubs.
24. What are you listening to right now?
David Crowder band.
25. What are your favorite colors?
Either green or dark gray, depending on my mood.
26. How many tattoos do you have?
None, but I've had two henna tattoos.
27. Do you have any pets?
Not unless you count Tanner.
28. Which came first the chicken or the egg?
God came first. Then he made both.
29. What would you like to accomplish before you die?
Skydive, learn to fire a bow and arrow, hike around Europe for a while, fall madly in love, go on a LONG road trip, grow dreadlocks, go vegetarian for a while, play the cello in a tutu, do aerial ballet, play a major role in a Shakespearean play (Beatrice, maybe?), etc. Didn't I do a post about this a while ago?
I tag... Tanner. And Dad. So you guys had better answer these questions. I'll be looking.
1. What time is it?
11:43 when I started this madness, 12:15 when I finished.
2. Name (include any nicknames):
Aubrianne MacKenzie Carson. My parents certainly didn't scrimp on syllables. Nicknames: Aub, Baub, Baubitt, Bibbidy Baubitty Boo, Bibbit, Auby-Bauby (an old one, c. 7th grade)
3. What are you most afraid of?
Being inferior.
4. What do you drive?
White Dodge Caravan, baby!
5. Have you ever seen a ghost?
No... but in elementary school my friend told me she had. I laughed at her.
6. Where were you born?
Sacred Heart Hospital, Eugene, Oregon, USA, Earth.
7. Ever been to Alaska ?
No.
8. Ever been toilet papering, or rolling in decorating trees?
No. I live a dull life.
9. Croutons or bacon bits?
Croutons, with or without salad.
10. Favorite day of the week?
No.
11 FAVORITE RESTURANT?
Cafe Yumm. I like the Yumm baby and the edamame Yumm. Rice kicks butt!
12. Favorite flowers?
Ummm... not carnations. Those things just look fake. I like lilies, I guess.
13. Favorite sport to watch?
Dance is a sport. Anyone who says otherwise can convince me by getting a football team to wear pointe shoes without complaining.
14. Favorite Drink
Various tea-related cold beverages, but not just iced tea.
15. Favorite Ice cream:
I have recently decided to eat ice cream despite my lactose intolerance, so, for the first time in my life, I have an actual answer to this question! In my opinion, it's hard to go wrong with a good vanilla.
16. Favorite fast food restaurant:
Eaugh. Why don't you just deep fry my soul while you're at it?
17. Hobbies?
Aside from the obvious dance and cello, I enjoy crocheting, origami, reading PG Wodehouse (favorite author of the week), reading Douglas Adams, reading almost anything I can get my hands on, eating, playing "classic" (i.e. old) Lucasarts adventure games (They have done nothing but Star Wars for far too long. Just who do they think they are, trying to make money? Sheesh.), exploring unusual relationships to gravity, sleeping, and boiling water in my 'lectric kettle.
18. What color is your bedroom carpet?
Dirt color. Not because it's dirty, it came that way. At least this way I don't have to vacuum.
19. How many times you failed your driver's test?
None. Ha!
20. From whom did you get your last email?
Someone who had some update about some Rotary exchange thing.
21. What do you do most often if you are bored?
See hobbies and TV shows.
22. Bedtime?
No.
23: Favorite TV show(s):
Mythbusters, Dharma and Greg, Whose Line is it Anyway?, Scrubs.
24. What are you listening to right now?
David Crowder band.
25. What are your favorite colors?
Either green or dark gray, depending on my mood.
26. How many tattoos do you have?
None, but I've had two henna tattoos.
27. Do you have any pets?
Not unless you count Tanner.
28. Which came first the chicken or the egg?
God came first. Then he made both.
29. What would you like to accomplish before you die?
Skydive, learn to fire a bow and arrow, hike around Europe for a while, fall madly in love, go on a LONG road trip, grow dreadlocks, go vegetarian for a while, play the cello in a tutu, do aerial ballet, play a major role in a Shakespearean play (Beatrice, maybe?), etc. Didn't I do a post about this a while ago?
I tag... Tanner. And Dad. So you guys had better answer these questions. I'll be looking.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Today
I just got home from dance. Of course, by "just got home," I mean "said 'Hi' to Mom, went into the kitchen, gulped a huge glass of water, refilled it with juice, gulped that, then came upstairs, put the kettle on, checked a few websites, contemplated checking either the 11 emails or 20 voicemails that somehow stacked up while I wasn't looking, put on pajamas, came back to the computer and opened a new post, went to get a sweater because the sweat had dried and I was cold, got a lemon-ginger teabag out of my purse, threw away the teabag left in the otherwise empty mug on my desk, turned on the David Crowder Band, rinsed the mug a little, made the tea, and finally mosied back to the computer and started typing."
Today was a crazy day. Yesterday, I overslept until 10:30, missing all of Orchestra and part of Japanese. I'm still feeling a little off. Today, I woke up (relatively) bright and early, took out the curlers that I had put in my hair the previous night for no real reason other that boredom, went to school, and was pretty much bored all day. After school, the sun was shining, I'd managed to slip out of class a minute or so early to beat the rush out of the student parking lot so I wouldn't be late to teach my little ballet girls, and all was right in the world. Plus my hair was curly, which is always a plus.
On my way out of the parking lot, I passed some weird kids with the windows rolled down and some hip hop music blaring. The lightbulb went on above my curly head. Down went my windows. Up went my volume. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was cruising down River Road, Vivaldi blaring at an inexcusable volume. In a minivan. I did turn it down before I got to the studio, just in case one of my little girls' parents started to question my fitness for the job.
We tried on costumes today. All twelve of them looked fantastic in their little orange leotards. Unfortunately, many of the yellow and orange feathers molted off of their costumes and lay on the studio floor as if Big Bird had got in a fight with...um... something orange...and feathery.
Nonetheless and never the more, they looked adorable.
After class, I went home and played this silly game called Outpost Kaloki X on the Xbox that I have become shamefully addicted to. It's basically like Sim Space Station. Except funny. I had rescued the princess and was trying to build a wildlife reserve, but by the time I had enough money, all my power sources were exploding. I hate it when that happens.
I was about five minutes late for dance, but that was okay since class started about five minutes late. All through barre I was feeling about as shiny as a happy hippy, but without the drugs. Center went by without any serious problems. We put our pointe shoes on and went to run our Swan Lake stuff for the recital. By the way, it's really, pickin' hard. Roughly five exhausting minutes later, we finished, bowed and walked serenely off stage (left, right, left, step small so I don't run Kyla over, right, left), then collapsed, gasping, all over the floor and crawled painfully over to our water bottles. Mrs. Jennifer then said the thrice-accursed words: "Okay, let's do it again." I stood painfully, leaving a small, muddy puddle of sweat on the marley.
The second time through was torture. Before we had even made it to the cabrioles, I was literally wheezing. The air was thick with pretty much everything but oxygen. My throat wouldn't relax enough to let what little air there was into my lungs. By the time we got to the baby swan variation, I was in tears. It was no good.
So here I am. Feeling crusty and sore. Tomorrow are the auditions for the junior company (Hosanna Prepatory Ensemble, or HoPE), and I'm on the spot, teaching choreography I'm working on to "I Saw the Light" by the David Crowder Band. It's pretty cool that, even though I'm old and leaving, there'll be a piece in the repetoire with my name on it for quite a long time to come. I've got roughly 45 seconds of the 3:10 minute piece done. Tonight, I need to read two poems for AP Lit and a half-chapter of Lord of the Flies for my English for the Apathetic/Ignorant.
O, pray for me. I am so very weary.
Today was a crazy day. Yesterday, I overslept until 10:30, missing all of Orchestra and part of Japanese. I'm still feeling a little off. Today, I woke up (relatively) bright and early, took out the curlers that I had put in my hair the previous night for no real reason other that boredom, went to school, and was pretty much bored all day. After school, the sun was shining, I'd managed to slip out of class a minute or so early to beat the rush out of the student parking lot so I wouldn't be late to teach my little ballet girls, and all was right in the world. Plus my hair was curly, which is always a plus.
On my way out of the parking lot, I passed some weird kids with the windows rolled down and some hip hop music blaring. The lightbulb went on above my curly head. Down went my windows. Up went my volume. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was cruising down River Road, Vivaldi blaring at an inexcusable volume. In a minivan. I did turn it down before I got to the studio, just in case one of my little girls' parents started to question my fitness for the job.
We tried on costumes today. All twelve of them looked fantastic in their little orange leotards. Unfortunately, many of the yellow and orange feathers molted off of their costumes and lay on the studio floor as if Big Bird had got in a fight with...um... something orange...and feathery.
Nonetheless and never the more, they looked adorable.
After class, I went home and played this silly game called Outpost Kaloki X on the Xbox that I have become shamefully addicted to. It's basically like Sim Space Station. Except funny. I had rescued the princess and was trying to build a wildlife reserve, but by the time I had enough money, all my power sources were exploding. I hate it when that happens.
I was about five minutes late for dance, but that was okay since class started about five minutes late. All through barre I was feeling about as shiny as a happy hippy, but without the drugs. Center went by without any serious problems. We put our pointe shoes on and went to run our Swan Lake stuff for the recital. By the way, it's really, pickin' hard. Roughly five exhausting minutes later, we finished, bowed and walked serenely off stage (left, right, left, step small so I don't run Kyla over, right, left), then collapsed, gasping, all over the floor and crawled painfully over to our water bottles. Mrs. Jennifer then said the thrice-accursed words: "Okay, let's do it again." I stood painfully, leaving a small, muddy puddle of sweat on the marley.
The second time through was torture. Before we had even made it to the cabrioles, I was literally wheezing. The air was thick with pretty much everything but oxygen. My throat wouldn't relax enough to let what little air there was into my lungs. By the time we got to the baby swan variation, I was in tears. It was no good.
So here I am. Feeling crusty and sore. Tomorrow are the auditions for the junior company (Hosanna Prepatory Ensemble, or HoPE), and I'm on the spot, teaching choreography I'm working on to "I Saw the Light" by the David Crowder Band. It's pretty cool that, even though I'm old and leaving, there'll be a piece in the repetoire with my name on it for quite a long time to come. I've got roughly 45 seconds of the 3:10 minute piece done. Tonight, I need to read two poems for AP Lit and a half-chapter of Lord of the Flies for my English for the Apathetic/Ignorant.
O, pray for me. I am so very weary.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
My life on the Internet
So, if I post twice in one week, am I covered for the next two weeks?
Anyway, I just thought I'd tell you that, while looking through my list of sites that I check periodically (i.e. daily), I found myself going to my own blog to see if it had been updated. Sad. This marks a new chapter in my absentmindedness. By the way, my blog hadn't been updated, and, frustrated by the lack of updates I had found on the sites I frequent, I decided to do something about it in a sudden, unwonted burst of activism. I do live in Eugene, after all, which is right on the corner of Activism Street and Protest Lane.
"Just what are these sites that you frequent?" I hear you ask. Well, since I don't have much else I should be doing at the moment, and because this post is far too short to warrant your attention, I present to you: THE LIST!
Anyway, I just thought I'd tell you that, while looking through my list of sites that I check periodically (i.e. daily), I found myself going to my own blog to see if it had been updated. Sad. This marks a new chapter in my absentmindedness. By the way, my blog hadn't been updated, and, frustrated by the lack of updates I had found on the sites I frequent, I decided to do something about it in a sudden, unwonted burst of activism. I do live in Eugene, after all, which is right on the corner of Activism Street and Protest Lane.
"Just what are these sites that you frequent?" I hear you ask. Well, since I don't have much else I should be doing at the moment, and because this post is far too short to warrant your attention, I present to you: THE LIST!
- World of Monkey Island
- Homestar Runner
- Facebook
- Ask a Ninja
- Grumpy Gamer
- My own blog, to see if anyone commented on the latest lame thing I had to contribute to cyberculture.
- The "add a post" page for my blog, which I stare at for a while and then decide that I have nothing to say.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The Adventures of Little Baubitt
Christmas 1995ish- Little Baubitt is hard at work sticking peppermints on a gingerbread house (actually made of graham crackers). Dad comes up behind her with a video camera. Ever eager to be immortalized in film, I look up sweetly and say, "Can you say I'm very creative?" (Actually, it was more like "cerative", but I thought you might not know what I was saying.) Dad, stifling a laugh, obligingly says, "You're very creative." Little Baubitt, satisfied, gives a little half knod and returns to decorating her house. Sometime when you're at my house ask Tanner to show you the video.
The reason I bring this anecdote up is that, apparently, even at the tender age of five, I liked people to give me words of affirmation. Nice words. It's probably the primary way that I receive love from others. Hugs, I could take or leave. Sorry, Tanner. I can appreciate it when people do practical things for me, but it doesn't mean much to me. Presents are nice, though. Quality time drives me nuts since I always think I ought to be doing something else. So say nice things to me. The end.
The reason I bring this anecdote up is that, apparently, even at the tender age of five, I liked people to give me words of affirmation. Nice words. It's probably the primary way that I receive love from others. Hugs, I could take or leave. Sorry, Tanner. I can appreciate it when people do practical things for me, but it doesn't mean much to me. Presents are nice, though. Quality time drives me nuts since I always think I ought to be doing something else. So say nice things to me. The end.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Life Lessons
Just to remind myself that school isn't totally pointless, here is a list of some things I've learned this year:
- Pi day (3/14) is only commemorated by people writing "Pi day!" on the whiteboard in the school.
- Homework for fourth period can almost always be done during lunch.
- Getting hit by a car is an excellent way to get out of things
- Whatever you might think a poem is about... you're completely wrong.
- The librarian refills the candy dish at the start of lunch.
- Assemblies are never mandatory.
- The secret to writing a good essay is coming up with one good point and restating it as many ways as you can.
- Even if you did the assigned reading, looking over the sparknotes can still save your bacon.
- $5.00 is two weeks of lunch money.
- Never, ever try to invade Russia in the winter.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Good news is good news!
Happy day! Here's why:
You're coming up to the top of a hill and you can't see what's on the other side. Do you:
a) Slow down
b) Speed up to get there faster
c) Honk your horn and turn on your fog lights
I almost laughed out loud in the middle of the DMV. A small mountain of paperwork and a camera flash later, I was a licensed driver. Afterward, Mom wanted to see the route we took on the test, so I tried to reconstruct it. Ironically, I almost got in about three wrecks. Since then, I've been driving myself and others to school and dance while mom does DDR.
- My knee is hardly even purple anymore
- I got my license last Friday
You're coming up to the top of a hill and you can't see what's on the other side. Do you:
a) Slow down
b) Speed up to get there faster
c) Honk your horn and turn on your fog lights
I almost laughed out loud in the middle of the DMV. A small mountain of paperwork and a camera flash later, I was a licensed driver. Afterward, Mom wanted to see the route we took on the test, so I tried to reconstruct it. Ironically, I almost got in about three wrecks. Since then, I've been driving myself and others to school and dance while mom does DDR.
- I got accepted to Whitworth! With honors!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
My latest adventure in stupidity and DDR
Last week on stupid things I did I poured boiling water on my foot. In today's episode, I get hit by a car.
So yesterday, as I was riding my bike home after going home for lunch and my free period, I was kind of zoning out, and of nowhere there's a car right in front of me pulling out of a driveway. I don't remember if it was moving, and I can't stop at this point, and there was a split second in midair where I thought "Oh my gosh. I just got hit by a car," followed shortly by "Hmm... I seem to be screaming." I hit the ground on my hands and knees (yes, I was wearing a helmet). I picked myself up carefully, shaking like it was Friday night. The driver got out of his car and helped me put the chain back on my bike, and I proceeded to school, choking on sobs. After all, I had an in-class essay in History. I'd like to add at this point that while there was a car involved, I could just as easily hit any stationary object with similar effects. I locked up my bike, went inside, took off my coat and went to the bathroom to try and get some of the mud off my knees, the adrenaline still moshing in my system. Back in class, I started to calm down enough to feel my knee ache a bit. Rolling up my pants I saw a bit of a scrape, so I went to the teacher and asked to go the nurse's office because I was "kind of hit by a car". That's when people started freaking out. He sent me to the nurse's office, all right, with an escort in case I passed out or something. Twenty minutes later, I was back at home with a leaky baggie of ice on my knee playing Psychonauts. As I calmed down, the pain got worse, and, on the school nurse's recomendation, Mom took me to the doctor to get it checked out. Since I had was having a hard time walking, I got a to ride in a wheelchair while I sat around the waiting room. Fortunately, it's just "soft tissue trauma", which is a pity-eliciting way of saying "the queen mother of all bruises".
In less traumatic news, my mom just went out and bought DDR for our 360. While I was trying to illustrate the concept of an upbeat, I had a brilliant idea, in kind of a super dorky musician kind of way- Conduct Conduct Revolution for the Wii! I crack myself up.
So yesterday, as I was riding my bike home after going home for lunch and my free period, I was kind of zoning out, and of nowhere there's a car right in front of me pulling out of a driveway. I don't remember if it was moving, and I can't stop at this point, and there was a split second in midair where I thought "Oh my gosh. I just got hit by a car," followed shortly by "Hmm... I seem to be screaming." I hit the ground on my hands and knees (yes, I was wearing a helmet). I picked myself up carefully, shaking like it was Friday night. The driver got out of his car and helped me put the chain back on my bike, and I proceeded to school, choking on sobs. After all, I had an in-class essay in History. I'd like to add at this point that while there was a car involved, I could just as easily hit any stationary object with similar effects. I locked up my bike, went inside, took off my coat and went to the bathroom to try and get some of the mud off my knees, the adrenaline still moshing in my system. Back in class, I started to calm down enough to feel my knee ache a bit. Rolling up my pants I saw a bit of a scrape, so I went to the teacher and asked to go the nurse's office because I was "kind of hit by a car". That's when people started freaking out. He sent me to the nurse's office, all right, with an escort in case I passed out or something. Twenty minutes later, I was back at home with a leaky baggie of ice on my knee playing Psychonauts. As I calmed down, the pain got worse, and, on the school nurse's recomendation, Mom took me to the doctor to get it checked out. Since I had was having a hard time walking, I got a to ride in a wheelchair while I sat around the waiting room. Fortunately, it's just "soft tissue trauma", which is a pity-eliciting way of saying "the queen mother of all bruises".
In less traumatic news, my mom just went out and bought DDR for our 360. While I was trying to illustrate the concept of an upbeat, I had a brilliant idea, in kind of a super dorky musician kind of way- Conduct Conduct Revolution for the Wii! I crack myself up.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
The Two Stupidest Things I've Done Recently
- So I have this habit of sitting on my vanity counter and soaking my feet in the sink. The hot water feels really nice, and I will often sit there for hours reading a book and perpetually draining and refilling the sink as the water cools. So the other day, while I was thus engaged, it occurred to me that the water might be just a little bit hotter. Now, if this were a movie, you would cut to a shot of the new electric kettle sitting right next to me. So, yes. I poured boiling water, 100 degrees C, directly on my foot, leaving an angry red burn. Not my most intelligent moment.
- I was making my bed with fresh sheets for the first time in two or three months when it occurred to me that I hadn't posted to this blog for a while. So naturally, I decided to regale you all with tales of my own idiocy.
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